"Ugh, motherfucker," Jeremy screeched as soap-slicked water seeped into his socks.

His frustrated wail prompted Michael to check out the cause of the noise.

"You sound like a—ah, what the—" he said as he stepped into the same pool of gray-tinted sudsy water. "Oh, you bastard," he hissed at the washing machine. "Explains why you sound like a dying fruit bat."

Jeremy threw his hands up exasperatedly and looked up at him with a what-the-hell-else-did-you-expect-asshole? expression. Michael responded with a halfway agitated, halfway amused expression with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Water continued to pool around their feet.

"I told you the washer needed work," he said smugly.

Shaking his head and not quite grinning, Jeremy raised his middle finger up at Michael.

"Alright, well now it does," Jeremy said. He sighed. "Ugh, now what?"

"Uh…" Michael said. "I dunno. Clean up the mess and go to that laundromat a couple blocks away?"

"I guess," Jeremy groaned.

As the rest of the wash drained from the basin and onto the floor, Michael made his way to the towel rack to clean up the mess. He seemed less adversely affected about the mishap than Jeremy did, which actually managed to calm him down.

Comically enough, as Michael walked, his shoe made a shrill squeal sound across the linoleum when he lost traction to the soap. Jeremy watched wide eyed, as Michael's legs shot out from beneath him and his back hit the floor. He splashed down into the mess, surprisingly quiet like he hadn't yet processed what just happened. Droplets of water hit Jeremy's clothes and face. The vibrations of his impact made ripples in the pool of it.

Before he had the chance to respond to it and ask if he was okay, Michael spread his arms into the drenched floor and began shrieking with laughter.

"What the hell just happened to me?" he cried, letting loose another wave of rasping laughs. Jeremy started laughing too, loud and hard as he took in the sight of a red-faced, sputtering Michael sprawled at his feet.

As he gained his composure, he extended a hand to help Michael to his feet. Before he could register what was happening, Michael gave a sharp yank on his arm to pull him to the flooded linoleum too. The bathroom blurred as he fell forward. A loud splash and a thump later he was lying on top of Michael in the floor, head spinning. His clothes went soggy quickly and the cold slimy soap slicked his skin. The strong floral stench of the detergent filled his nose.

He couldn't believe what Michael had just done, or worse yet, he could. The guy was lucky he was so handsome because he was more devilish than angelic at times; a definite handful. He was both a chatterbox and a ball of energy.

Jeremy's knees throbbed where they had hit the hard floor and one of Michael's ribs was jabbing into a soft spot of his stomach. He squirmed where he'd fallen on top of him.

"Oh, what'd you do that for?" he groaned, trying not to laugh harder. Water sloshed around their two bodies as he shifted his weight into a more comfortable-ish position.

"For fun," Michael grinned. The taller man gripped Jeremy's hair and yanked him forcefully into a kiss, breathless and sloppy.

"Fun," Jeremy scoffed. "You're an asshole."

"And you love me for it," Michael said smugly.

Jeremy nodded and finally broke his composure, wheezing as he laughed until his stomach ached. He ran his fingers through Michael's drenched hair and kissed his face.

"Hm," Jeremy hummed against his skin. "Now we have a bigger mess."

Michael snickered wickedly and said, "Laundromat."

Jeremy pushed himself up on unsteady legs and checked his watch.

"Are laundromats open this late?" Jeremy asked. "It's like ten PM."

"Usually. There's gotta be at least one in town that's twenty-four hours," Michael said.

Jeremy nodded, helping Michael collect towels. Jeremy worked to wipe the floor dry as Michael washed the sudsy mess of detergent water out of his hair.

"Quit watching me shower, you creep," Michael said, grinning. His eyes remained closed but he clearly sensed Jeremy's eyes on him.

"But you're so pretty," Jeremy retorted. "A free show is a free show."

"Fuck you too, Jere," Michael chuckled.

The handle squeaked as he turned the water off, dried himself, and put the dirty shirt back on. Droplets fell from his hair as he toweled it.

"You're gross," Jeremy said.

"Yeah well, I've got clean jeans but this shirt is all that's left. Everything was in the wash," Michael defended.

"Fair enough," said Jeremy. "I'm gonna go change."

Once he came back, the two loaded their soggy laundry into a hamper and set off into the cold night.

Michael's driving was so much steadier than his own, Jeremy mused. The man worked his hands smoothly on the steering wheel like a natural motion. His shoulders rested lax against the seat and his face was peaceful. He appeared so at ease and sure of his movements. He hummed as he drove, soft and low in his throat. It placed a sense of safety in Jeremy's chest, a security he hadn't previously felt. Sometimes he thought of simply driving somewhere all night; sleeping to his soft hums and gentle maneuvers as the world rushed by.

Clouds of smoke left his mouth as he drove; cigarette darting smoothly between his lips and a resting place against the steering wheel. He had an attractive, comforting sort of rhythm as he drove and smoked. The warmth of his secondhand smoke and body heat relaxed Jeremy.

Michael eased the car into a parking spot at an empty laundromat, vacant but still lit up.

"Told ya," Michael smiled. "Open. Let's head in."

With that, he put his cigarette out, heaved the dripping laundry hamper out of the car, and walked up to the door. Jeremy held it open for him as he carried the load. The laundromat was cool and not cold inside, a relief from the biting Jersey winter.

Laundromats piqued Jeremy's interest somehow; the way no two were alike. This one was rather abused; the walls were graffitied and stained, the washers and dryers were dented, and the lights flickered occasionally. Out of order vending machines sat lonely in the back corner.

Michael tossed the soggy laundry into washers while Jeremy changed cash into quarters to pay for the machines.

Jeremy quirked an eyebrow as Michael stripped his shirt off and threw it in the washer.

"Oh shut up," chuckled Michael. "It's my favorite shirt and nobody's here."

"I wasn't complaining." Jeremy smiled and kissed the exposed man's forehead.

"God, it's cold," Michael hissed, nipples hardened and skin prickling with goosebumps.

Smirking, Jeremy put his hands on Michael's bare skin and traced the lines of flesh and ink down his back. He liked the soft sensation of his chilled skin beneath his fingertips. Humming, Michael leaned in close to absorb some of the heat emanating off him.

"You're so warm," Michael whispered, shoulders falling slack as Jeremy's fingers ghosted over the raised flesh of scars on his back.

He planted a chaste kiss on the tattoo at the side of his neck and pulled him closer. He yelped as Michael wickedly stuck his icy fingers up his shirt to warm them on his back.

Stripping the sweater off himself, he handed the warm fabric to Michael and stood awkwardly in his remaining tee shirt. Eagerly, the taller man put the shirt on and hummed contentedly.

The world passed them by, left in their comfortable silence as the washers took their sweet time. An endearingly menacing streak of mischief crossed Michael's face, in all eventuality. Usually the expression meant something bad or fun was about to happen; most often both, in Jeremy's experience. He must have terrorized all of heaven with his reckless impulsivity once.

Just like that, Michael seized a rickety laundry cart and clambered into it. The thing rattled with the motion and gave a small squeak of protest. Lacking no sense of glee, he awkwardly pushed himself around the laundromat with his arms sprawled aloof. He grinned and let out a series of small whooping noises as the cart gained velocity. It left Jeremy only to watch as a grown man—a fallen angel no less—fly around a vacant laundromat in a cart letting out a variety of loud happy noises. Frequently he'd reach his feet out to a table or a washer, give himself a good shove, and burst into careless laughter as he spun around at top speed and crashed into various speeds.

He fumbled around to get out of the cart and finally said, "Come on, Jer! Live a little!"

"You're such a teenager!" Jeremy retorted, grinning wide.

"Goddamn fucking right. I'll be young and dumb forever and I don't regret it a bit. Get your ass over here," he giggled.

Shaking his head in mirth, disbelief, and pure amusement, Jeremy complied.

Being smaller than Michael, it wasn't quite as much as a squeeze getting into the cart. His knees hung over the edge and he kept his hands grasped firmly on both sides of the thing. He couldn't believe he was doing this but he'd be damned if he wasn't having the time of his life.

Cheering in all joy and reckless abandon, Michael shoved the Jeremy-filed laundry cart away hard, sending him into a whirlwind of adrenaline and wheezing laughter. He kicked his feet around as he spun around and rolled loudly across the room. His knee banged the side of a washer pretty damn hard, which really just made him laugh harder.

It went on for some time, probably leaving a ridiculously incriminating video on the surveillance cameras. For once Jeremy didn't care what the world thought. There was only the rush of dizziness behind his eyes and the shrill sound of Michael's laughter in his ears.

The rough teenage-reminiscent escapade slowed to a stop as Jeremy pushed himself off a wall and collided sharply, cart and all, against Michael's legs. The man winced from the impact at first but stuck to his playful mood, thrusting his hands into Jeremy's hair and forcing the remainder of his hyper mood into a kiss. The sprawled man in the cart reached back for him. He held him there and hummed against his mouth. He liked the roughness of his tattooed fingers resting on his scalp and tugging his hair.

Michael left the excitement there on his lips and set off on a mission to fold laundry as the final drying cycle finished with a resounding buzz. Feeling young, dumb, and in love, Jeremy really couldn't imagine it getting better than this. In its simplicity and ease, he loved the life he'd built since that crazy day Michael (quite literally) crashed into his life.

The snow on the pavement under their feet crunched like a whisper, crisp and barely there as they loaded the basket of folded laundry into the car.

"God, turn on the heat," Michael hissed, rubbing his hands together as he cranked the car.

Shaking his head, Jeremy complied. The steady swoosh of hot air licked at his skin and began to fog the windows.

He watched Michael leaning blissfully into the stream of hot air, long eyelashes adorning his closed lids. He hummed contentedly as he stopped shivering and relaxed himself.

Jeremy didn't think as he gave heed to the pulsing sensation beneath his flesh; he just leaned over the center console to bring his mouth down on Michael's. The other man reacted in an instant, gripping his shoulders and sighing hotly against his cheek. It stayed soft and chaste at first, filled with affection and gentility.

The moment Michael's resolve snapped sent his system rushing with adrenaline. Jeremy gasped sharply as his chilled fingers journeyed from his shoulders down to his waist. The sting of his bottom lip catching between his teeth injected a shiver into his spine.

Michael pulled away for a breath and pressed his forehead head to his own, evening out the movement of air in his lungs.

"Backseat," Jeremy pleaded, meeting his soft eyes.

Michael smiled. "Jer, I've got work tomorrow."

"Mm, that's a shame," he smirked, tracing Michael's collarbones softly enough for it to tickle.

"Fuck it," Michael finally hissed, shuttling the ignition off and roughly pulling Jeremy out of his chair to shove him into the backseat.

His breath clouded in the cold air, further fogging the glass. Each sense overloaded in the familiar motions of Michael all over him; fast, rough and affectionate.

Jeremy squirmed under the man's weight as he pinned him hard into the backseat. It was poetry; Michael working his belt undone, teasing his hands across his inner thighs, kissing his cheek and breathing heavily into his hair. The whole world slipped far away as he gave himself over into the rhythmic sensation of Michael's hips rolling against his own. The same noises he knew so well, the contradiction of rough hands and soft lips, the shuddery heat of Michael coming around him… It was art.

Michael pressed his cheek into his shoulder as Jeremy went soft beneath him. His sweaty hair brushed against his bare skin as he eased off him and stayed silent, drenched in afterglow. He smelled like cigarettes, laundry detergent, faded cologne, and warmth.

The two eventually regained composure and dressed themselves before the cold became overwhelming.

Jeremy sat up, only to be pulled back down by Michael.

"I don't want to go home," he whispered. He grasped for Jeremy, still sounding wrecked and faded. "Stay here with me, please, Jer."

"Okay," Jeremy said softly, kissing his temple.

He shifted his body weight to lay down behind the taller man, conforming to the shape of him and resting his chin against his neck. Michael sighed slowly as Jeremy wrapped his arms around his chest and leaned into him to hold him safe and keep him warm.

They rested there for a long time, wordlessly. He never wanted to lose this security.

"I've got an idea," Jeremy whispered timidly, unsure of himself.

"Mm, tell me," Michael said.

"I don't know," Jeremy said, doubting the concept in his head.

"Tell me what you're thinking," said Michael, turning to meet his eyes.

The words fell from his mouth all at once, shrouded in affection. They sounded more confident out loud than in his own mind.

"Marry me," he said, desperately searching Michael's face for a reaction.

He felt foolish, blurting something a proposal so suddenly. Maybe this was the part where he finally fucked all of this up.

But Michael's eyes shined. He just hummed and planted a light touch of his mouth against his.

"Of course," he whispered casually, resting his head against him and closing his eyes.

"Really?" Jeremy said, taken aback.

"Yeah," Michael grinned, eyes still closed. "Now shut up, it's late."

"I love you," he murmured into his hair.

"I love you too, Jer."

This life wasn't heaven. Maybe they did live in a fractured world but he was sure he loved Michael for his flaws most. All his imperfections and rough edges, lined here against his own. It was enough, he decided, and he closed his eyes and fell into the warm abyss of sleep.

Fin.