In the following two weeks, Mike and Micky enjoyed spending some quality time together, making up for lost time on tour. It hadn't all been plain sailing though; word had gotten out about Samantha's pregnancy, and Micky had faced some rather difficult questions from his friends and other members of his family. Micky was getting tired of having to justify himself and his actions, but at the same time a part of him was glad it was out in the open - that was one less secret he'd have to keep, anyway.

Mike and Micky were hanging out at Mike's place that evening, eating a take-out pizza in front of the TV. It had been a relaxing evening, but after several minutes silence, Micky spoke up.

"You know what we need to do?" Micky begun in an excited tone.

Mike looked at Micky suspiciously. "Do I wanna know..?"

"We need to spend a day at the lake." Micky replied. "Maybe even a night! My dad used to take me to this really groovy lake when I was a kid, we'd go fishing and just hang out and climb trees and it used to be so much fun. I'd really love to take you there. We could even camp, just you and me in a tent in the woods with no one around us for miles and miles. How cool would that be?"

Mike looked a little uneasy. "I ain't sure about camping, Mick."

"Why not?" Micky asked, feeling disappointed. It didn't take him long to realise what Mike's issue was. "You think someone will see us?"

Mike looked down at his slice of pizza. "We need to be careful." He said a little regretfully.

"We don't have to worry, because this place is super quiet. It's not like touristy or anything." Micky said optimistically. "I think it'd be so much fun. You and me, down with nature."

"I ain't really big on the whole campin' thing though, Micky. I ain't ever camped in my life." Mike admitted.

"You've never been camping?!" Micky gasped. "Well then we have to go. It's so much fun. We can build a log fire and then snuggle up under a blanket beneath the stars. It'd be so romantic."

Mike wore a slightly pained smile. "Maybe."

Micky chucked his pizza crust into the now empty pizza box, and slid closer to Mike on the couch. "Please." He whined. "You'd love it, I promise."

"Maybe we could go for a day, just fishin', but I really ain't sure that camping is a good idea." Mike said, tilting his head to the side. "Suppose someone else is around? And suppose they see us settin' up our tent, just two men in the wilderness on their own?"

Micky sat back and let out a little sigh. "At least say you'll think about it."

"I will think about it, but I ain't makin' no promises." Mike replied, standing strong.

Micky went back to watching the TV and remained silent.

"Hey," Mike jabbed Micky on the arm. "I ain't tryin' to be a party-pooper, you know."

Micky looked at his partner and smiled sympathetically. "I know you're not, babe." He said. "I'd just really love it if we could get out of the house and do something fun together, just the two of us, and not have to worry about anything."

"But we always have to worry about something." Mike said, giving Micky a knowing look. "We have to watch our backs, baby."

"I know we do." Micky sighed. "But trust me; this place is super quiet. That's why my dad used to take me there. I was on TV at the time, and so was he, so it was good to just be away from everybody; no distractions, no nothing. Just me and my dad in the woods. It'd just be so cool to do something like that with you. When we go to parties and clubs together, it's not the same, because we have to pretend that there's nothing going on and it just- I don't know. It's a drag, I guess. But that's not me saying I'm not happy with how things are, so please don't take that the wrong way."

Mike smiled at his partner, lightly touching the side of his face. "I know, Mick." He replied. "And I will think about it, I promise. Maybe we could give it a try... but I'm tellin' ya, babe, if we see one person, we can't stay. I mean it. It ain't worth the risk."

Micky nodded. "That's fair enough. I can agree with that." He said.

"Good." Mike smiled.

The couple were silent for a few moments, going back to watching the TV.

"You know," Mike begun, a hint of cheek in his tone. "I might get the wrong idea about you wanting to get me alone in the woods. I mean, what if you take advantage of me?"

Micky smirked, looking at his lover. "Would that be such a bad thing?" He flirted.

Mike shrugged, a coy smile on his face. "Well that depends." He said. "But just so you know, I can give as good as I get."

"Oh yeah?" Micky said, raising his eyes.

"Yup." Mike nodded. "Remember, I know your weak points."

"And what are my weak points?" Micky wondered, a silly smile on his face.

"Well, there's this for starters," Mike replied, and before Micky knew it, Mike started attacking him with tickles, digging his fingers into Micky's ribs, causing the curly-haired man to wriggle and laugh uncontrollably.

"No no no no!" Micky giggled, squirming beneath Mike's tickling. "Stop! Stop it! I-I- oh my god, stop!"

Mike had no intention of stopping, and he carried on tickling his lover, laughing himself at Micky's completely vulnerable state - Micky was utterly helpless, reduced to a hysterical giggling mess as he was overcome by Mike's tickles.

"See, I know how to defeat you!" Mike joked, almost pinning Micky to the couch as he tickled him further.

Micky flailed his arms and legs, trying to push the Texan off of him but being completely helpless. "Stop!" Micky squealed.

Just then, the phone started ringing, and Mike decided to give Micky a break. Mike quit the tickling and sat up straight as Micky tried to pull himself together.

"You are so mean to me." Micky laughed, sitting up. He rubbed his body with a shudder, itching himself. "You know I hate being tickled!"

The phone continued to ring, and Mike rose to his feet. "I need to get that." He said before pointing at Micky, giving him a playful, warning look. "But this ain't over!" He joked.

Micky giggled some more as Mike left the room to answer the phone. Micky rested his head back on the couch, catching his breath after his little laughing fit. He smiled to himself, imagining what it'd be like if he could actually get Mike to go camping with him. Micky had been getting tired of he and Mike not being able to go out and do things that normal couples do; going to dinner or seeing a movie together was out of the question in Mike's eyes, even if Micky tried to persuade him that two men could go to a movie theatre without it looking like they were a secret couple on a date. But Micky also understood and respected Mike's views, and he knew that the Texan was right to try and protect what they had - even if it meant Micky couldn't do the things he wanted to do. But a little camping trip might be the perfect compromise, Micky thought, and he really hoped that Mike would agree to the idea.

A few minutes passed, and Micky waited patiently until Mike returned to the room. Micky looked up as the Texan entered, before looking back at the TV again.

"Who was it?" Micky asked, referring to the phone call.

When Mike didn't answer, Micky looked up and immediately noticed that something was horribly wrong; the colour had drained from Mike's cheeks, and he looked like he was shocked. Shocked and sad.

"What's happened?" Micky asked, a wave or worry washing over him.

"She's gone." Mike replied quietly. "Grandma... she's gone."

Micky's heart sunk into his stomach. "Mike..." He said quietly. Micky quickly stood, turned off the TV, and approached Mike slowly. "Wh-what? What happened?"

"She passed in her sleep." Mike replied, looking at the floor.

"But... but I thought she was getting better." Micky said, now standing in front of the Texan.

Mike shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh baby... Mike, I'm so sorry." Micky said, quickly pulling his partner into a hug.

Mike's arms wrapped around Micky loosely, and Micky felt like Mike was a block of ice in his arms. It was only a few moments before Mike stepped back, sniffing hard - although he wasn't crying - and taking a deep breath.

"I need to get to Texas." Mike said, sounding determined.

Micky nodded. "First thing in the morning we'll go straight to the airport and get a flight."

Mike looked taken aback. "We?"

"Well, yeah." Micky replied. "You've just lost your grandma, there's no way I'm letting you go to Texas on your own."

Mike rubbed his head with his hand, turning away from Micky and taking a deep breath. "You can't come with me."

"Of course I can." Micky said with a frown. "Your family won't even have to know I'm there; I'll stay out of the way, I can just tell people that I'm going to support you as a friend."

Mike turned to face Micky once more, and he now looked stressed as well as sad. "No. That ain't happening because you ain't coming."

"But I want to be with you." Micky said, holding onto Mike's arms. "I want to support you."

Mike turned away again, rubbing his eye. "I really don't need this right now..." He muttered.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Micky stressed, not wanting to complicate things or mess up Mike's mind even more.

Mike looked at his partner. "I'm fine. I don't need you to hold my hand." He said bluntly.

Mike's voice was cold, and Micky was a little taken aback - but at the same time, this was Mike he was dealing with, and Micky wasn't sure why he was surprised.

"I should see if I could get a flight tonight." Mike said. He scratched his nose, and he looked like he was trying to take control of the situation.

"Why? Baby, you can't go tonight." Micky said, looking at his watch. "It's nearly 10'o'clock. There's nothing you can do tonight; just wait until the morning."

Mike actually seemed to listen to Micky. "You should go home." He said, coolly. "I ain't gonna be very good company tonight. You should go have some fun; I think Harry's throwin' a party tonight. You should go."

"Wha- what?" Micky asked, totally stunned by that comment. "Mike, you- why would you even say that? Do you seriously think I'm going leave you on your own?"

Mike was silent.

"I'm not going anywhere." Micky said, his mouth downturned and sadness bubbling in his stomach.

"I need to pack." Mike said, turning to leave.

Micky quickly reached out and grabbed hold of Mike's hand. "Don't be silly, you don't need to do that right now." He stressed, starting to worry deeply about the Texan. "Please, Mike. Just sit down for a second. You've had a huge shock. Please, let's just sit down."

"I need to do something." Mike said, his cool exterior breaking slightly - Micky could sense a little distress buried deep within his partner.

"Okay, well let me help you then." Micky asked. "I can help you pack."

"I don't need any help." Mike snapped. "What'cha trying to smother me for? I can pack a few goddamn bags on my own. I don't need you to help me. I ain't a child."

Micky held up his hands in a surrendering fashion. "Okay, okay." He stressed, trying to calm Mike down. "I'm sorry. I'm just- I'm just trying to help."

"I'm goin' to take a shower." Mike said, and before Micky could say anything else, Mike had turned and left the room.

Micky stood there totally flummoxed; things had changed so dramatically in just a few minutes, and Micky felt a little overwhelmed. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle Mike in this state, and he was so frustrated that the Texan seemed to insist on pushing him away.


Micky stayed downstairs a little longer, giving Mike a bit of space. Micky made himself useful by tidying up the pizza box and glasses from their meal, and he turned all the lights off and made sure the house was locked up before he headed upstairs to Mike's bedroom.

Micky perched himself on the edge of the bed, waiting for Mike to emerge from the bathroom. Mike was taking his time, and Micky resisted all temptation to call through the door and ask if Mike was okay.

Soon though, Mike appeared - dressed in boxers and a t-shirt - and he almost looked irritated to see Micky sitting on the bed waiting for him.

"I said you should go." Mike said, going to the chest of drawers and taking a few items of clothing out.

"You know damn-well that I'm not going anywhere." Micky said. "Just like you wouldn't leave me if the tables were turned."

Mike paused, his back toward Micky, clearly taking in what Micky had just said.

Micky stood, and he walked up behind the Texan. "Please talk to me." He said gently.

Mike turned around. "About what?"

"You know what." Micky said, staring at his lover with narrowed eyes. "Please don't push me away. I want to help you."

"I don't need help." Mike snapped, looking totally confused as to why Micky would ever think he needed help. "I told you, I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" Micky said, getting seriously frustrated. "Your grandmother has just died. She was like a second mother to you. You don't need to act like this isn't hurting you, because I know that it is. You can't lie to me. I know you."

Mike shook his head, turning his back to Micky once more and getting more clothes out of the drawer. Mike dumped the clothes on the couch, clearly getting them ready to pack away the next morning.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Micky asked. "It's okay to be upset, you know. If you wanna- if you wanna talk or shout or cry, you can. It's normal."

"Cry?" Mike questioned in dismay, looking as if Micky had just suggested he eat his own shit. "I don't need to fucking cry."

Micky was stunned by Mike's attitude; earlier on, Mike was nothing short of warm and loving. Now Mike was cold and treating Micky like a virtual stranger.

"Why are you being like this?" Micky asked quietly.

"Why won't you quit hassling me?!" Mike hit back, throwing some more clothes down onto the couch. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm fine? She was an old lady, she's been sick - old ladies die. That's life. That's just the way it is. And talkin' or cryin' about it ain't gonna bring her back, so what's the fucking point? Quit going on at me, boy. I ain't in the mood."

Mike walked out of the room, once again leaving Micky a little speechless and totally unsure what he was supposed to do next. Again, Micky was forced to fight his instincts; every part of him wanted to chase after Mike, but the rational thinking side of Micky said that it was best to leave him alone - for the moment, at least.

So Micky freshened up ready for bed and once again waited for Mike to return. Micky felt sick with worry and he hated not knowing what his partner was thinking or feeling. It was only about fifteen minutes before Mike came back to the bedroom with a few bits and pieces in his arms that he would take with him to Texas.

Micky didn't say anything, he just watched as Mike gently laid out everything out on the couch. Mike then went to his huge closet and pulled out a large suitcase. He laid it on the couch next to his clothes, and started carefully placing the garments inside.

"I love you, you know." Micky said gently, breaking the silence.

Silence was the only thing that followed though. Mike put his clothes inside and stood there, looking over the suitcase as if he had a million thoughts running through his head.

"I know how much you love her." Micky said, a hint of nerves in his voice. "You don't need to pretend you're okay around me when you're not."

"I told you I'm fine." Mike replied, but this time he didn't snap; instead his voice was quiet and gentle.

"But you're not though." Micky said, standing up and walking over to the Texan. "Please, baby. I'm trying to support you. I don't- I don't know what else I'm supposed to do."

Mike stared at Micky, and for a moment Micky saw his partner begin to thaw. Mike glanced down at the suitcase again. "I don't know what else to take." He said, quickly putting those walls back up again.

Micky sighed, feeling a little defeated. "Don't worry about that now, you can figure it out in the morning. You look exhausted. How about we get some sleep?"

Mike looked back at Micky for a moment. He gave a slight nod of the head before walking to his side of the bed. Both Micky and Mike climbed into bed, and Micky reached for the lamp, switching the room into darkness. Mike got himself comfortable as far away from Micky as physically possible while being in the same bed; Mike laid facing out of the bed, close to the edge, his back towards Micky. Micky didn't let this deter him though, and he slid right up beside the Texan, wrapping his arms around him from behind.

Even though it was a warm August night, Mike felt like a block of ice in Micky's arms. Not physically, but emotionally he was as solid as a rock - stiff, almost, and completely resisting Micky's closeness. Micky pressed himself against Mike's back, holding him lovingly, almost protectively, wishing there was something he could do to ease his lover's pain - even if Mike insisted that he was okay.

Micky had no intention of moving, even though he was getting absolutely nothing back from his partner. Mike still laid there, completely tense, his hands clasped against his chest as if he didn't want to touch Micky.

Micky's mind was now in overdrive, and he wondered how the hell he'd be able to sleep with his mind racing like this. Micky was scared, and he felt helpless - he wanted to do something to help Mike, but he had no idea how he was supposed to handle Mike and his reluctance to communicate. Micky wondered why it was so hard for Mike to show his emotions, and he couldn't understand why the Texan insisted on acting like he was so hard when Micky knew that he really, really wasn't.

It was only when Mike fell asleep that Micky felt his partner start to thaw. Micky could hear Mike's now slow, steady breathing, and the formally tense Texan seemed to relax, the ice melting in Micky's arms. Micky started stroking Mike's arm gently, almost trying to coax his lover into an even more relaxed state. After a few minutes, Mike moved, and Micky lifted his arm to allow Mike to roll over. Now Mike faced Micky, still sound asleep, and he pressed himself against the slightly younger man as if he was suddenly desperate for closeness.

Micky's heart broke a little bit, wondering why Mike had to be asleep to let those walls down from around him. Micky wrapped his arms around Mike once more, gently pulling him closer and careful not to wake him. Mike moulded himself into Micky's arms, burying his face in Micky's chest - it was almost as if Mike was suddenly desperate to be as close as possible, whereas when he was awake he couldn't get far enough away from Micky, physically and emotionally.

Micky gently stroked Mike's back, holding his partner close and wondering what the morning would bring. Micky was desperate to go to Texas with Mike; the thought of Mike going alone and pretending that he was fine when he wasn't made Micky feel sick with worry. Micky could only hope that Mike wouldn't try to push him away again in the next day.


Micky woke early the next morning to the sound of movement in the bedroom. Micky opened his eyes, and Mike was no longer sleeping soundly next to him. Instead the Texan was up and fully dressed, putting a few final things into his suitcase which had had fully packed while Micky had been asleep.

Micky rubbed his eyes and sat up. He looked at the clock - it was 7:30.

"Mike," Micky said, rubbing his face. "What are you doing?"

"The sooner I get to the airport, the sooner I can get a flight." Mike replied, zipping up his suitcase.

Mike then walked over to the bed and placed his hand on the side of Micky's face before kissing the top of his head firmly.

"I'm gonna leave now." Mike said gently, stroking Micky's curls. "It's early; go back to sleep."

Micky watched as Mike walked towards his suitcase, and he felt overcome with sadness. "Please let me come with you." Micky begged. Mike shook his head, lifting his suitcase. "Please. It won't take me long to pack, or-or I don't even have to get the same flight. I could meet you there later. I won't- I won't even tell anyone I'm coming. Nobody will have to know I'm there."

"No, Micky." Mike replied quietly, gathering his things.

"Please." Micky pleaded, and he shuffled to the bottom of the bed, staring up at the Texan with sad eyes. "I'll stay out of the way, your family won't have to see me. They won't even know I'm there, but-but I'd be there for you. I can't stand the thought of you being alone like this-"

"For god's sake Micky, this ain't about you." Mike said, turning to look at his partner in desperation.

"I know it's not about me!" Micky said. "It's about you. You're hurting and you're pretending you're okay when you're not. I don't want you to deal with this by yourself."

"Please, Micky." Mike said, stepping closer to the bed. He stared at Micky in much the same way Micky was staring at him; with a look of desperation, pleading for the other to do as they say. "You can't come with me."

"At least let me drive you to the airport." Micky said, looking up at his partner.

"I've already booked a cab. It'll be here any minute." Mike replied.

Micky looked down, shaking his head. He felt totally defeated.

"Please don't make me leave you like this." Mike said. "I need you to understand."

Micky looked up. Mike was trying to look so assured, so strong, but Micky could see that behind the tough facade Mike was in pain, and Micky didn't want to add to that.

"You have to call me." Micky said, looking his partner dead in the eye. "I mean it, Mike. Every day or-or whenever you want. I don't give a shit what time it is, if it's in the middle of the night or early in the morning - if you need me, call me. Please, Mike. Promise me."

Mike looked at Micky hard, and he nodded his head. "You don't need to worry about me." He said, placing his hand on the side of Micky's face. "I'm fine. Honestly I am."

Micky shook his head slowly. "Why are you lying to me?" He asked. "Why won't you just tell me how you really feel? You have nothing to be ashamed of. It's okay to grieve - it's normal. You don't need to act like you're fine-"

"Micky," Mike said sternly, though not aggressively. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly. "I love you." He opened his eyes. "I'll be okay. Please don't worry about me."

"How can I not worry about you?" Micky asked.

Mike leaned in, kissing his partner gently on the lips. "Are you okay to lock the house up for me?"

"Of course I am." Micky replied.

"Good boy." Mike said, still stroking the side of Micky's head. "I'll see you soon."

Micky opened his mouth to speak, but Mike turned, grabbed hold of his suitcase and swiftly left the room. Once again, Micky was left feeling completely helpless. He was frustrated, sad and angry, although his anger wasn't necessarily aimed at Mike; Micky was angry that they lived in a world where they couldn't be honest about who they really were and what they had together, and as a result he couldn't even support his partner in a time of crisis.

Micky rubbed his face with his hands - he felt sick. He knew Mike wasn't as hard as he made out, and the thought of the Texan suffering in silence broke Micky's heart. Micky knew that Mike would be with his family, but that wasn't the point; at night Mike would go back to his house in Texas, and he'd be all alone with his thoughts. Micky couldn't bear the thought of Mike being alone, and Micky just knew that Mike wouldn't confide in his family, either. Mike would try to be strong for them, because that's what Mike did - but who would be strong for Mike? Micky felt like that was his job right now, but his stubborn partner wasn't letting him do it.

Micky climbed off the bed. He walked to the window and peered outside to see Mike putting his case in the back of a cab that was now in the driveway. Micky peaked out from behind the curtain; every part of him wanted to knock on the window, to blow a kiss or give his partner a little smile to say goodbye, but he knew Mike would kill him if he did that - and the cab driver probably wouldn't be too pleased, either.

Micky watched as the cab slowly pulled away, and it killed Micky that he wasn't in the car as well. Micky wanted to be there every step of the way. He wanted to sit with Mike waiting for the flight. He wanted to sit next to Mike on the plane and hold his hand - even if the Texan didn't want to talk. And Micky wanted to be there when Mike met his family, or at least when Mike got back to his Texas-home at night. Micky wanted to cuddle his partner and tell him that everything would be okay. He wanted Mike to open up to him, to confide in him, to expose his feelings to him, and to not push him away.

But Micky couldn't have any of those things, and all he could do was sit. Sit and wait. Sit and wait for a phone call that, knowing Mike, might never come. Micky thought about how frustrating it was that they couldn't do things that "normal couples" did, but all of that seemed meaningless in comparison to this. For the first time since he and Mike had gotten together, Micky was devastated that they couldn't be like everyone else, and it broke his heart.