C6 - MONDAY, MORNING

An on-the-surface replica of their first morning together, Mike awoke when the sky was just bright enough to illuminate their bedroom. The difference this morning was that he knew right away in what bed he was and with whom he was. And this time, Micky was facing him, asleep, looking downright angelic. Mike's eyes sluggishly traced the barest peaks and shadows on the familiar face so distinct and dissimilar from his own, the face that never failed to alight his heart, the face he would never tire of looking at because of who it belonged to.

I need to tell him. He frowned. I shouldn't'a 'llowed myself to fall back in bed with him last night. He closed his eyes in shame, wishing for anything he could only enjoy rather than think. His mind's eye drifted over the form next to him, desperately wanting to hold on to the feeling of being with him, stretching the moment out, but knowing it was wrong to want it, dangerous to want it. But I don't regret it.

He listened to Micky's soft, warm breathing that touched his face from those few inches away, and he let his mind wander. It took him a good ten minutes to decide he would wait just a little while longer on telling him; he couldn't wake Micky up now, especially with him looking so peaceful. He didn't want to spoil that. He didn't want to spoil Micky at all.

And then he considered that it wouldn't be a great idea to be in bed with him when he woke up. Chances were good that Mike would once again end up thinking with some combination of his heart and dick rather than his brain, and that was what he unquestionably needed to avoid in order to amend their situation. Micky luckily wouldn't think a thing of him not being there given that it was a rare event Mike would still be in their room at all when Micky would finally come to. Heck, if it ain't a work day, everyone in the neighborhood is awake by the time Micky gets up. Yesterday morning's early rise was probably a fluke., he thought, due to Micky's continued excitement and the circumstance of sleeping in a different place.

Giving himself only a few more seconds, Mike made the decision to go. He carefully moved the cover and sheet back into place from where he had been lying so that Micky wouldn't get chilled, and he closed the door behind him and pattered down the stairs to the bathroom down there. Pushing somber thoughts to the backburner again, he decided to spend time messing around piecing together a new song based on a series of notes he'd thought of the day before.

In-between gigs and leaving enough time for practicing, Mike and Micky had both been working part-time jobs for awhile and had put in quite few hours for a couple months before Christmas rolled around. Micky felt obligated to pitch in more with a part-time job. This was not only to help hold the band's fort down but to send money back home to his mom for her and his sisters. With only residuals and an occasional side income now when Janelle wasn't overloaded with the kids, they were understandably not as well-off as they had been before his dad passed away.

When it came to the other two, Peter had taken on most of the chores and cooking duties to compensate whereas Davy was busy finishing up his schooling which included after-school play rehearsals and rehearsals for summer shows to keep his green card valid, so it didn't leave him much extra time during the day. They were trying their best to function as a self-sufficient unit and band while having a little travel money to spare. Mike particularly didn't want to fall behind again financially like they had earlier in the year and part of the year prior.

Nights were typically free for most of them to allow for practicing and auditions and gigs — or just lounging around the house when they felt like it, or in Davy's case, chasing tail and occasionally doing homework, the older three guys helping him out with the latter endeavor when requested. And that Davy even chased tail shy of his age of majority had been a small concern of Mike's because, with Davy's producer friend who was also his green card sponsor accountable for him during daylight hours, Mike had felt it was his responsibility to otherwise keep the kid's future in America secure until such time. Peter and Micky at least had their parents to vouch for them until they hit twenty-one.

After Mike spent a good while meandering around a tune, the phone rang. He managed to get across the large room to the end table to answer it on the second ring. "Hello?"

On the other end of the line was Joe Wilson, the owner of the music/record store owner where Micky worked. He wanted to know if his energetic employee could come in to work for the next couple of days which was earlier than he'd expected to be back, later in the week. Mr. Wilson's wife and kid had come down with the flu on Christmas, and their other part-time employee was out of town with his family. Mike jotted down Mr. Wilson's home number just in case Micky didn't have it on hand and said that if he didn't hear from Micky, he could expect him to be there, normal hours. Placing the receiver down, he thought maybe he should also get some hours in at the grocery store if they needed him since he wouldn't have anything of substance to do alone in the pad. So he rang up his boss who told him he would be a big help and to come on in.

"Mick?!", he called upstairs, hoping he was loud enough to get Micky's attention if he were awake but not so loud as to necessarily wake him up. Often noise wouldn't bother Micky since he could undoubtedly sleep through a nuclear explosion, but they had gone to sleep early enough, and it was late enough now that the ring of the phone could have done the trick.

"Mike!", the Micky bubbled back in response. He was in fact awake.

With an unconscious smile forming due to Micky's sparkling personality being directed his way, Mike proceeded to relate that it was Mr. Wilson who had rang and the why-for of it.

"Oh yeah, I can do that.", he called back down.

"Okay. I told him you'd ring 'im if you couldn't make it; otherwise you'd just show up."

"Sure. You up for taking me, or you wanna hang out here or whatever? I can walk." He was hoping Mike would offer so they could spend a little more time together.

"Naw, I'll take ya. I called in ta work too. They can use an extra hand." Maybe the song'll keep rattlin' around my head while I'm stocking shelves.

"Oh, right on. Groovy, groovy." Just then, Micky thought back to yesterday when they were driving across town and recalled the slightest hint of squeak he had heard. That car was Mike's baby, he knew well. The guitarist had driven to the west coast in an old jalopy which he'd soon traded in for it. With that, plus the extra money he'd set aside for a place that he hadn't needed by himslf since they all so quickly got this house together, he bought the shiny, brand new GTO. It and his old six-string were his prized as well as only substantial possessions, but Micky would concede to being pretty attached to the car himself. And admittedly it did a little for his own ego that he was the only other person Mike had ever allowed to drive it. "How long've we got?"

"Less'n an hour an' a half."

"That'll be fab." He grabbed Mike's car keys off the dresser and shoved them into his jacket pocket hanging nearby before moving toward the door and explaining. "The brakes started sounding the teeensiest bit off yesterday.", he gestured over the balcony where Mike could see. "I'll go work on 'em, grab a shower, and we can go." He turned and went back into their room.

Mike, distracted for a split second by Micky's naked upper half, was confused; the Pontiac wasn't that much over a year old, and he wouldn't say they had driven it a crazy amount. "The brakes're already goin' out?", he called up to him.

Partly muffled by throwing a shirt on, Micky explained, half-yelling so he could be heard downstairs. "You remember we had some crazy times out on the road this year. And fast brake fading's a thing with these kinds of cars. But — and I know, stick with me on this — I planned ahead and bought a set already." Micky loved to build things and to tinker, and if nothing else, he would be glad to poke around some under the GTO. He'd gotten to work on his dad's car and friends' cars growing up, which he enjoyed quite a bit, just not quite as much as he enjoyed music, so he knew his way around them well enough to perform standard repairs.

Hands on hips, Mike looked up. "Lemme get this straight: You bought brakes for my car?"

"Yeah. I knew it'd need some sooner rather than later.", he replied, shrugging his jacket on before sliding down the spiral stair railing with practiced ease. "Don't want to wait until we need brakes to go get brakes in the car that needs brakes, right? All show and no go?", he said as he landed on his feet.

Mike was befuddled. "W'll, when'dja do that, then?"

"Last month.", he shrugged, ambling around the staircase over to him.

"That's... that's awf'ly kind of you, Mick. Gettin' new brakes and changin' 'em out?" A modest, dumb grin plastered itself on his face.

"Don't mention it, babe." A smiling, squinty-eyed Micky leaned forward and pecked him on the lips, then without another thought bounced over to the sink to half fill and swig a glass of water.

Oh. That's nice. Mike hadn't expected the effortless kiss. He didn't know why he hadn't, but he hadn't, and his heart bounced. Real nice. And then his brain caught back up to him. It's sweet a' him to be doin' this. "You shoulda mentioned it t' me sooner. I'll go an' get you the money for 'em.", he started to head up the stairs whence Micky came in order to retrieve said money.

"Don't be square."

"They ain't cheap.", he shot back, already to the first stair. At twenty-five dollars, almost three full eight-hour days' worth of work, they were not cheap indeed. It was more than anyone had ever given Mike before, and truly, it was too much for him; he felt he should be paying for that expense out of his own pocket. Mike didn't know how to feel about Micky's presumption to pay out of his.

"Mike.", he rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about it. I've been working at the store a lot, so I could spare it. This'll be fun for me." He rubbed his hands together in a display of preparatory excitement as he headed to the door that went out to the garage.

That Micky would do all that made him a little uncomfortable, although he couldn't quite place his finger on why beyond nobody having done anything that significant for him before. But he decided it was easier to just go with it rather than think too hard about the reasoning. "Thanks, Mick.", Mike spoke while he was still within earshot. "I'll go shower and make us some breakfast." It's the least I can do., he thought.

-—-—-

Later, on the way to dropping Micky off at the music store, he had to admit the ride did sound cleaner. Micky had been right about the brakes. At least these should last just as long, he thought to himself, assuming we don't get into too many crazy situations this next year. I'll have to remember to budget for 'em next time 'round. "Thank you, Micky.", he told him sincerely.

It was a fact known to Micky that Mike smiled a lot more, and more easily, these days than he had when they'd all first met, and every last one of those smiles made Micky's heart happy. This one was no exception. He smiled right back, glad that Mike was glad. That was all he needed to get by, he thought, was to see his flame content if not outright upbeat. He wanted to hold his hand and connect more with the feeling, but they were out in public, and he knew better than to risk it for either of their sakes.

At the same time, Mike was entertaining a distinctly different thought. It needs to be today., he reminded himself. With the holiday season speeding along and work life getting somewhat back to normal, he felt the tug of distress. There'll be enough time for us to straighten things out between us when I pick him up this afternoon. Mike told himself.

Mike rolled the car up to Wilson's Music, bright posters embellishing the windows above and around where a few instruments were displayed. Micky jumped out and give him a sunny look accompanied by a "See you later, babe."

"See you later.", he responded, his smile this time a bit forced. When Micky turned and bounded off into the shop, Mike sat there with a small frown as his heart dropped a ways in his chest. Oh, that's what it is., his memory jogged. That was why he had been uncomfortable with the Californian's generosity earlier: By bringing up the topic of cooling things off completely, Mike felt like he was taking away. It was the opposite of Micky's giving. That feeling he was suddenly dealing with was, undeniably, guilt. His head lolled back in frustration at himself. He didn't want to string Micky along. He swore he wasn't trying to. But Micky isn't stupid; I'm sure he'll understand completely, an' anyway, I'll tell him as gentle as possible. Although, after a few days of their little vacation of sorts, it was still likely to come off kind of rough. So Mike would do his best to try and think of something, a less problematic way than to be with him, that would still make Micky feel ...appreciated like he should be.