C9 - TUESDAY, EVENING
Mike parked in the pad's driveway early that evening instead of bothering with the garage; it was supposed to be a nice night, and besides, they would probably need to go to L.A. and pick up Peter in a couple of hours anyway.
Because it was that time of year, it was already dark outside, but Micky nevertheless stayed smart and took no chances in public. He waited for him to unlock and open the front door and go inside, then slipped in behind him, tossing the presents onto the bureau just inside. Mike had closed the door in the interim, but he hadn't quite finished relocking it when Micky shoved his left hand in front of him to manhandle him by his thin tie and turn him fully around. Ugh, he makes ties so damned sexy., Micky thought as he smooshed him up against said door with his body, holding Mike's narrow hips in place with his own, his other hand coming to land on Mike's waist. He then angled his head and pressed his mouth decisively against the other man's, tongue gliding right in.
He was just about to open his mouth to tell Micky... something. It was something serious, he'd thought. But whatever it had been was off in a fog to him now, so it must not've been that important. Without thinking, Mike pulled his unprepared hands smoothly up and over Micky's biceps and from there continued to where he draped his arms loosely around Micky's shoulders. His right hand curled around the back of Micky's neck to massage the hair at the nape, his monkey keychain with house and car keys dangling from a finger of his left hand that hung down. His movements were an instinctively welcoming response to getting pounced on by his boy, and their closeness and Micky's essence had instantly soothed him. "Ahh, Mick.", he sighed in thoughtless satisfaction when he came up for a gulp of air, though not moving away, their noses brushing.
Micky, pleased as could be, let his steadying hands roam downwards to take hold of Mike's ass. Up top, he went back in again for more, and his mark was all too willing to forget the rest of the world existed for now and follow Micky down to whatever depth of oneness he chose.
A hint of a noise was faintly heard but not recognized, which they each in their distraction assumed originated from the other. But the sound repeated itself, more loudly this time and clearly emanating from the back of a throat, followed up by a creakily-voiced greeting. "All right, guys?"
"AAAAAHH!" Micky immediately shrieked as he jumped and spun around. At the same time, the keychain on Mike's finger went flying up into the air as he flung his arms away, and with a clatter it landed on the floor nearby. The both of them had flattened themselves side-by-side against the door and the wall beside it, hands down, ending their movements blanched and frozen at attention. "Davy!", Micky yelped, eyes darting across the pad over to where the lamp was that he then noted they had not left on. By it, their roommate stood next to his luggage, his tambourine now forgotten in his hand. "Hh— How did you get here?", Micky inquired in a squeaked falsetto.
"Tracked down a bloke going the same way out of the airport. We split the gas." Davy would have shrugged had his body not been in shocked, suspended animation. "Cheaper than hiring a car since you didn't answer the phone earlier today." This was about the time of day when he would have normally expected the two of them to be home after swinging by from work to pick him up from school. Due to it being the holiday season, he was neither at school nor did he expect Mike to be in town or either of them to be at work, so he hadn't thought of calling their jobs to see if they were there.
"Oh. Uh. Great! Haha.", Micky sputtered idiotically. "You didn't stay with your family? I mean, your birthday...", he trailed off due to nerves, fingers brushing the door behind his upper thighs. He could hear to the extent of almost feel Mike's intensely labored breathing over to his right. The last time Mike had made a sound like that, they'd been naked in bed, Micky's hand grasped tightly around Mike's cock and lips and tongue suckling at his neck. Get your mind out of the gutter, Micky. Now is not the time.
"There's a blizzard coming down from Iceland.", Davy answered. "Flew back just in time to miss it; otherwise I wouldn't've been able to get back for at least days more. Anyway, I've been gone a week." He looked to Mike specifically. "Wot about you, then? Wot are you doing back already?"
Having stared off into the distance for a split second since initially spotting Davy, he still couldn't make eye contact or respond and was on the verge of hyperventilating.
"He missed his flight.", Micky supplied helpfully.
Davy harrumphed, though non-judgementally.
"No, I'm serious. He missed it by accident, and it was too expensive to rebook."
Their standoff continued in silence for another few seconds before Davy shifted his weight and commented with curiosity rather than asked a direct question. "'S odd. I don't think I've ever seen Mike kiss anyone before."
Micky absently chuckle-giggled. "Funny you should mention that. He said the same thing on Christmas Eve after he kissed me for the first time. Lucky me, right?"
"Micky?", soon came a choked interruption from next to him.
"Yeah, Mike?"
His words came out staccatoed and soft and raised in pitch as if he had a gun pointed to his head. "Please stop talking now." He'd barely calmed down any from his near panic attack to communicate that simple sentence.
At that, Micky's brain caught up with him, and he winced slightly. "Too much information. Right. Sorry."
Another few seconds ticked by.
"Look, guys. I'm not miffed or cheesed or anythin'. Just bloody gobstruck is all. Didn't see it coming. But I don't ...mind." The last word almost sounded like a question.
Micky blew out a breath and looked up at the ceiling for a second, incredibly relieved. He was so very glad to hear that from Davy, to essentially get his blessing and to not have him be horrified or disgusted. Although he'd considered that alternate possibility when he was at his mom's house, he had since put off any real thought about how they would share their relationship with their friends. This accidental reveal to Davy, the one who Micky had been worried about, had thankfully gone over well enough. And as far as Peter was concerned, he was always so accepting of everyone that Micky had a feeling he would welcome and accommodate the two of them being together no matter how they presented the idea to him.
"Please don't say anything to anyone about this.", Mike spoke up again, sounding only marginally more human this time. His pleading eyes then flicked over to their English friend whom he'd addressed.
"I won't. Not to worry.", he tried to sound casual, mostly over the apex of his shock by then. He placed the tambourine he'd been holding onto the chaise longue, having taken it across the pond with him to demonstrate to his grandfather in person a sampling of the songs the four of them had been working on. A thought occurred to him then. "So, this, ah, 'thing'... You're going to tell Pe'ah when he gets back, right?" He closed his suitcase back up and clasped it shut, now with just his clothes and necessities remaining inside it.
Mike returned to imitating a deer in headlights, unwilling to engage further with the idea of sharing any information at all, while Micky stuttered a response. "Uh, of course. I mean, we'd have to ask if he's cool with it too, ya know?"
"Okay, just so long as I don't have to find a way to bring it up or explain it to him." Davy took hold of his suitcase and started their way, between them and the spiral staircase. It didn't take a rocket scientist to determine there was something going on between Mike and Micky regarding being caught that they needed to work out in private. "You guys ...have a good night. I'm gonna sor' out my things and crash.", he nodded past them towards his bedroom door.
"Sure. Um. Need any help?", Micky offered daftly, his back coming unplastered from against the door.
"I'm good, thanks."
"Okay. Great."
On his way by, Davy paused to scoop up the keys that had gone airborne in fright earlier and handed them to Micky who was closest to him.
Micky smiled his thanks and awkwardly watched his friend retire into the bedroom just a few feet away with his luggage. Once they heard the door click shut, Micky relaxed noticeably with a lungful's rush of air, his face distorting to a laughing position without producing much noise. That could've gone so much worse than it did. He's okay with it!
Mike however didn't relax at all, and he wasted no time crossing in front of Micky to fly up the stairs, away, into their bedroom.
Micky's expression quickly evened back out as he watched him go, picking up on a worrisome hint that something wasn't right.
Once inside, Mike came apart internally. Davy's abrupt arrival had brought reality crashing back. His mouth a tight line, he ripped his wool hat off and released it unceremoniously to the floor. I shoulda ended this already., he lashed out at himself, tension rising, and he pulled off and threw his shoes to the side of the door where they hit the wall before he collapsed to sit on the edge of the far side of his bed, squeezing his temples and running his hands over his face repeatedly. Mike had just plowed smack into this massive failure he had himself created, and for the first time since before he had thought to leave his old life in Texas behind, he felt trapped, unable to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Only after he was situated there did he hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. When he'd had the chance, he wished he had instead turned around and run out the front door where Micky couldn't as easily follow.
Micky quietly stepped in the room then and, with concern twinge in his heart, contemplated Mike's restless, hunched-over form. Just as quietly, Micky closed the door behind him in case Mike would be upset about Davy hearing any of their impending conversation even though chances were the kid was already out like a light. He wasn't sure what was going through Mike's head about this situation — embarrassment, most likely? — so he placed Mike's keys down on the dresser inside the door and hesitantly decided to go over and sit across from Mike on the edge of his own bed, hoping he'd be able to talk to him about it so they could work through whatever Mike was having trouble with.
Please don't. You're too close. This is too much. I can't do this., Mike thoughts ached.
When it looked to him that the older man wouldn't have an interest in shifting his hands from his face any time soon, Micky finally spoke up, his voice as reassuring as he knew to make it. "Davy's solid, babe. It's no sweat."
"Davy's solid.", Mike repeated in a beaten-down tone, voice rumbling in the recesses of his throat. Stonefaced, he dropped his hands, then shook his head and stood up. Removing his coat, he dumped it on the floor, an uncouth act which couldn't've been less like him, and turned around and crawled deep into the covers of his bed facing the wall away from Micky.
To Micky, it felt like Mike had pulled himself a million miles away and had taken all the oxygen in the room with him. Mike hadn't ever acted like this with him before. And it made no sense as it was too early for them to hit the hay. Micky was clueless as to what was going on here, so it didn't make it easy for him to come up with something say to fix whatever had gone wrong. Was Mike really that upset with him for telling Davy he'd kissed him the other night? Maybe that's it., he thought with gloom. He really didn't want me saying anything to anyone, and I guess I screwed up. "I'm sorry if I said anything you were uncomfortable with." But Davy's okay with it. He said he was, and he's good like that.
Just when Micky had sat there, ignored, for a handful of seconds feeling increasingly uncomfortable to the extent of disheartened, Mike, eyes screwed shut in acute displeasure, quietly answered him back with a croaked non-answer. "Night."
What?, Micky wondered. Though it assuredly sounded like a dismissal, at least it was something. But he frowned; he didn't like or want Mike being upset, either with him or in general, and he still obviously was very upset at something. Sensing Mike would be jumpy if he tried to touch him, Micky moved off the bed to instead pick up Mike's discarded items and do his own uncharacteristic move of tidying things up, He placed Mike's green hat next to his blue hat on the dresser by the keys and hung his jacket up on their coat rack to the right of the door, taking off and hanging up his own jacket on the rung next to it. He then turned back to collect Mike's shoes, took off his own, and straightened them all up in their normal row against the wall. Having allowed a few moments pass during this whole process, he looked back at the lumpy blanket hiding his seemingly benumbed best friend who hadn't moved, and Micky frowned harder. It hurt him to see Mike so unsettled. Surely he's just freaked out from Davy seeing us kissing, and knowing someone knows about us kissing, all he needs is time. Maybe he does just need to sleep it off; he'll feel better about things in the morning.
Micky turned off the light and shuffled back over to his own bed, getting under the covers, and lying down facing Mike's blanketed back for lack of anything more important to do than to just supportively be in Mike's presence. "Night, babe.", Micky told him delicately. Since moving into the pad, they had almost always said some version of good night and good morning to each other. The past four days, though, the pleasantries had been imbued with a more intimate tone. A simple "night, babe" this time around, when Mike sounded like he was struggling, seemed to Micky like it left a whole lot to be desired. As with the presumed bad luck of failing to kiss underneath a mistletoe, he didn't want to leave Mike hanging, regardless of whether or not the other man would be especially receptive in his current state. All Micky wanted was to help smooth this over, to help Mike feel like he could be more at ease with things again. So the moment had lulled before he added on "I love you." to fill the newfound void between them.
"Don't say that.", Mike shot back through clenched teeth, his heart clenching at the same time. No. Why'd you have to go an' say that...
Message received and promptly returned to sender. Over the next few seconds, Micky's throat tightened, and in the darkness of the early winter evening, he blinked in confusion. "Well, it's the truth." Why would he snap at me for saying that?
"You shouldn't." Though still a snap, the guitarist sounded more tired and defeated this time.
A small part of Micky's brain found that response a little funny. He'd met a few people in the last year or two who might say Mike was a difficult person to love, but Micky thought the Texan was sweet and kind and handsome and funny and just right. There really wasn't anything he could think of that he would want to change about Mike that would make him feel more strongly about him, not even if he could up and change him into a girl. And after four days of intimacy that Micky would swear went beyond mere sexual activity, it was natural to hazard a guess that Mike felt at least marginally similarly about him. He likes me, at least. I think more than as just a friend. Doesn't he? The younger man adjusted the pillow beneath his head, moving his fingers to grip the pillowcase's flat corner, and hoped out loud that it was true. "I think you feel something for me too."
After a demoralized sigh, there was a space of dead silence followed by flat-sounding "It don't matter how I feel."
That cryptic answer caught him off guard. What does that mean? "I think that's all that matters."
"Micky," he could be heard grumbling as he turned over his direction, "we can't do this."
Why not? "We already have been doing this. Nothing's changed."
Finding himself unable to look Micky's way even in the dark, Mike flopped onto his back. "But now we have to stop." It came off as if he were chastising a child. "What we were doin' was never supposed to happen, and it sure wasn' s'posed ta last. I never wanted it ta get this far. And I never shoulda let it happen in the first place."
That stung. Every inch of that past-tense confession was weighty, and it stung. It took Micky a long, dragging moment to work around the implication and the rawness it caused as it worked through him. "So, what," he answered with the confidence of optimism that it wasn't true, but at the same time, the seed of doubt growing exponentially, "you were just experimenting on me because I don't mean anything to you?"
"No, of course not!", Mike slammed his hand on the bed in front of him in an unfamiliar and concerning display of anger. Sighing in frustration, Mike lowered his voice back down. "Us bein' together ain't realistic. And we're young yet. You'll find a good girl you'll want to settle down an' have kids with. I won't keep you from that." Micky c'n be easily led, and I had no right ta take advantage of that no matter how I feel. That was so wrong of me. He rubbed his temple again and tried to assure himself things would work out. But he'll be fine. He's just talkin'. He'll get over this easy enough and move on, and I ain't gonna hold him back.
Thoroughly confused now, Micky shook his head and sat most of the way up. "But I only want you." As truthful as he was, it came out sounding whiny and terribly naïve, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Okay, so is he scared about having feelings for me? Or is he just scared about other people knowing he has feelings for me? And he's probably also worried it could mean he's a homosexual. I get it because I was dealing with those same questions at Mom's house when she told me she knew. But he's always so easygoing about everybody that I didn't realize he'd have such a big hangup about it. Neither one of us have ever really talked about stuff like that, though. But if that's the case, it's okay. We can work through it.
'But I only want you.' A tremor went through Mike from hearing Micky say those five words, and he reminded himself he had to be strong. "You're not even twen'y years old yet. You'll meet the right girl soon enough. It'll be easy that way."
"Nope. Nuh-uh. I'm not buying it. If you think you're shooting me down in the dark for no good reason after making out with me not even ten minutes ago, you're nuts."
"The sooner you accept reality, the better." He hated the acrid way it sounded before it had even left his mouth, but he couldn't help it. If being firm and detached, if not presumably cruel, was what it took to turn Micky off of him, then so be it. Mike would have to live with that, and he would find a way to work to smooth things over after the fact.
Micky wasn't yet convinced that this was what Mike wanted were he able to get past his hangup. He held on to the idea that it was only what Mike thought would be best for Micky. Well, forget that. He chose to believe that Mike having what Mike really wanted was in both of their best interests. "Nothing has changed for me or is going to change for me. I love you, and I'll still feel the same way in the morning." After offering this last buttressing admission, he hoped Mike would see the sense in it by the time they woke up and intended on letting him be until then to deal.
Micky's tender words echoed in his head. He can't. Hit with emotion, Mike's eyes closed once more, his face crumpling along with the movement. It took all he had not to let out a sob as an uninvited tear slipped down his cheek and splatted overly loudly onto the pillow below. With reluctance, his mind came to and settled on a thought: If he can't move on on his own... maybe there's no other way out. His insides churning, he had nothing further to contribute to the conversation; he just lay there, irredeemably tense. The pain and guilt from what he had said and from what he was now thinking of doing made it too difficult for him to fall asleep.