C3 - SATURDAY/CHRISTMAS, NIGHT
Micky was glad to have convinced Mike, who went along with mostly painless agreement, that they should spend the night at his mom's house. The latter had the concern that he might be overstepping into even more private family time, to which Micky assured him was "no way" the case, and that was the end of that discussion. The younger man really did miss sleeping over with his family for Christmas like he had all his prior years, so Mike wasn't about to deny him that. Staying over made sense anyway because the weather had not been forecasted to be fantastic, and by the time it had gotten dark, it had started to rain a little.
It was around this time that the ladies of the house requested they all sing some festive music before the little ones had to be put to bed. The guys took no convincing, though Mike was still a little shy about such things. But he covered for himself well when Micky started them off with "Jingle Bell Rock" and he and the rest of the family joined right in, gatherning around in a circle in the living room. That was followed by "Do You Hear What I Hear?", "God Rest You Merry, Gentlemen", and, thanks again to Micky beginning it, the Paul & Paula version of "Jingle Bells". To the enchantment of their audience, Mike and Micky finished alone with their rendition of "Riu Riu Chiu" in two parts instead of four, a brief round of applause following their last note.
Coco had snapped her last two photos of the night having no idea if they would turn out or not. The grandparents said goodbye to everyone and wished Mike well before the left. With the evening having wound down, and with Janelle having settled the two youngest girls in for the night well past their normal bedtime, she asked her eldest, "Coco, why don't you sleep with me tonight like you did last year so Mike and Micky can have your big bed?"
The girl had taken over and redecorated Micky's room when he had moved out of the house, thrilled to have her own space away from her younger sisters. So upon hearing her mother's idea, she was parts annoyed that her brother might mess with her stuff and parts intrigued at having a handsome boy like Mike gracing her room's presence. Due to more readily entertaining the latter thought, she stopped short of complaining.
When it came to Mike, however, the suggestion had the singular and instant effect of putting him on high alert. Sharing a bed with Micky a second time? And under his mother's roof? He quickly glanced around for alternate accommodations. "Don' worry 'bout me.", he said aloud. "I can take the couch."
"Don't be silly. You'll be far more comfortable in the queen-sized bed." Janelle's tone was firm.
The last thing he wanted to do was to be rude and argue with his generous host, but all the same... This can't happen again. Least of all here.
Cool as a cucumber, Micky looked over to her, then back at Mike with a shrug. "It's true; the couch is lumpy. Here, you can go ahead and use the bathroom first, and I'll go second." He nodded his head toward the hall. In the meantime, Coco changed into her pajamas in her room, but in no time she opened the door to leave, taking a few items into her mother's bedroom with her for the evening.
Once in the doorway to the newly vacated bedroom, Mike took in the situation at hand and, feeling a little detached, blinked. "I'll sleep on the floor." He meant for his voice to sound stronger than what it had actually come out as, which was more achy and surrendery.
Micky, who had already gone in ahead of him, had fished out his own pajamas from his overnight bag. "Are you crazy?" He popped up to notice that Mike had taken his overnight bag in hand once again. "Put that back down, change, and get in bed already. It's no big deal. I'll be back in a jiffy." Before leaving him to it, he lingered just a hair long enough, his line of sight tracking to Mike's lips and back up, indicating he'd briefly considering something and then thought better of it.
After he left the room, Mike relaxed a miniscule amount and breathed out. Putting his bag back down on the floor, he got to work changing into his pajamas before Micky had a chance to get back. He turned down the covers and slid in, starting to get settled in on the near side of the bed. Him sleeping nearest the door had been their arrangement ever since they had started sharing a room because Mike was almost always the one to wake up first, and it allowed for him to make the least disturbance. He clicked on the lamp on the nightstand next to him. After a minute, he heard a "shave and a haircut" tap on the door, to which he verbally answered "Ten cents." without batting an eye.
Normally they wouldn't bother knocking for one another — politely averting their eyes was enough — but Micky thought it best to knock in case Mike was, he gulped at the thought, naked and his sister or mother who were still up might catch a glimpse of him. After Mike's answer, in came Micky on cue, his own clothes changed, and he saw that Mike's were too. Micky was still in good spirits but was quickly running out of steam from all the romping with his sisters coupled with his lack of eight hours of sleep the night before due to certain activities they'd engaged in. He wondered how Mike was internally handling all socializing and if he was tired out too. "Whatcha got there?", he asked more quietly than he would have were the younger girls not asleep, tossing his cothes from the day onto the floor in front of the closet next to their bags.
There were a handful of brightly-colored teen magazines on the bed which Coco had not thought to clean off and which Mike had moved into a pile. One of them, the red one which Micky had specifically referred to, Mike had picked up to look at half a minute earlier. At Micky's inquiry, he flipped it back to the front and read the top tag line: "'The Beatles: Is this their farewell fling?'"
Reading Mike's mind on that notion, Micky commented, "Let's hope not." He clicked off the overhead light switch by the doorway, padded over to the far side of the bed, and flopped down, looking over the other magazines by the light of the lamp. He picked out a yellow one that also had The Beatles on the cover. "'Exclusive Photos, Intimate Secrets'.", he read, following it with a quiet, low, scandalous whistle.
Mike chuckled, his heart having slowed again to a normal pace before Micky had taken up residence on the bed next to him. The mere feel of Micky's presence next to him made his conscious thoughts start to blur a bit.
"'Are Summer Romances Doomed?'", he read the second tag from the one Mike was still holding, glancing toward him with eyebrows lifted. "Good thing it's December!"
"Shhhhh.", he chastised softly, scandalized at the thought of Micky's family overhearing. And at the same time, he internally froze up at Micky hinting at their ...temporary — no, previous — situation.
Undeterred, Micky slid the magazines around to pick out a different one and moved up the bed closer to Mike, stage whispering. "'Perfume tips for a more kissable you: Get with a swish hairdo and a snazzy dress, slosh on lots of perfume, and go where the boys are.'"
Mike made a face imagining being easily overwhelmed by chicks with girly perfume. "I'm not so sure about that one.", he replied, laying down the magazine he'd been looking at.
"You said it yourself: You're too fussy. But I won't complain because you not taking this advice has worked in my favor." Before Mike could respond, Micky had flipped the pages, stopping on one, and was speaking again. "The art of being kissable: Being Mike Nesmith." He scratched his head as if astounded that's what was written there. "Huh."
"Oh, hush." Though still paranoid about being overheard and still disturbed at having improper thoughts about Micky in general, he rolled his eyes, blushing imperceptibly in the low light. "It does not say that."
"But it does!", Micky grinned widely, leaning over with the magazine and pointing at the cover, "accidentally" leaning in close enough to peck Mike on the cheek in the process before the Texan realized what was happening and could move away. "And he doesn't reek of perfume, either! My lucky day."
Though smiling impulsively, Mike was hardly comfortable enough in someone else's house to put up with the small display of affection. "We gotta cool it here, Mick." His plan, such as it was — having so far coalesced into nothing more than a vague and ephemeral idea — was to let him down gently.
"Yeah, yeah, I know.", he said, shifting the magazines back into a pile and dropping them on the floor on his side of the bed. But his spirit was not dampened. "Just one smooch in the dark. Then I'll behave myself. Promise." Although he had never gotten up to any funny business in his mother's house before, he was well aware she would be less than pleased if he tried it with his little sisters around. And with Mike? He for sure didn't want her to find out about them that way any time soon.
One quick kiss and done? Though he himself remained silent, Mike's eyes suggested he couldn't possibly figure out how to say no to that measured offer. One last kiss. The thought was as somber as it was calming.
Micky stretched across him, bracing himself on one side with a hand on the bed before clicking off the lamp by the bedside with the other. On his way back down, his now-free left hand found the side of Mike's face, his lips willingly obliging Micky's when they subsequently met.
To Mike's great enjoyment, with Micky's fingers caressing his temple and cheek, the kiss lasted a satisfactory length time and was sweet without becoming hot.
Micky broke it off, and they both took a breath, for a moment staring at one another in the dark. Sated, Micky retreated and settled down on his back, pulling the covers up over the top of them both. He then found Mike's hand between them. Loosely interlacing their fingers together, he gave it a squeeze, which was, he was charmed to feel, returned.
"G'night, Micky.", he bid to sleep the one who held his heart, as much as he had tried not to admit it. He was a little frustrated in himself for accepting the kiss; he didn't want to lead him on more than he already had. And boy had he. But all the same, he couldn't help it.
"Good night, Mike.", he replied with a happy smile.
As they lay side by side in the bed roomier than their own, not needing to be smooshed together even if they had wanted to be, the older boy got to thinking. Maybe I should bring it up to him now. It'd be less pressure for us to argue about the rationale of it in this environment, anyway. No doubt he'll be a little disappointed. But some disappointment for one day'll be better than a whole heap a' years'-long regret. After all, he likes girls, and that's the way it should be. It wouldn't be fair for him t' catch hell and get stuck with an undetachable label just because a' me. His mind on overdrive in contrast to the late-ish hour, he finally, softly spoke up in the darkness. "Hey, Mick?"
But he must have been drifting in thought for too long before he spoke up because he was met only with silence and uniform breathing; Micky, fingers now limp, was already out cold.
Boy, when he's awake, he's sure awake, but when he ain't... It's like he has a switch on him just like a light. Fingers still mostly interlaced, he ran his thumb over Micky's, ever so lightly and slowly so as not to wake him, and tried to calm the tender ache that was building in his chest. On the way home tomorrow., he told himself. We'll break this off on the way home.