Hey! I'm back. . . again! After all that waiting (and kind reviews pressuring me to update) I have finally given my brain some time to think of something similar to a decent chapter.

6

"J.D. . . you're not wearing pants." Stated Michael, as he looked about ready to burst into maniacal laughter.

No shit.

"No kidding. I was thinking of going 'commando' but changed my mind and realized I was going to be late so. . ." J.D. noticed Michael wasn't falling for it and he stopped talking, silently clearing his throat. "A dog stole them. But don't worry! I fought him hard. Would've taken my arm otherwise."

"I see." Michael nodded. Suddenly, the door across the hall began to creak open. Michael grabbed J.D.'s collar and pulled him into his apartment, slamming the door closed behind him.

"What's going on. . ."

"Shhh. . . the woman across the hall is a busy-body and a nymphomaniac, I swear. She'd act like the dog expect she'd probably take off more than your pants."

"Oh." J.D. waited in silence for footsteps to pass and contemplated why his heart even attempted a backflip.

He just opened the door and looked at me. I'm such an idiot.

Michael straightened his back and made his way to a closed door. J.D. walked over to an old, leather cracked couch and sat down, immediately regretting it. The couch was very cold.

"I'll get you some pants." Michael opened the door to what J.D. assumed was Michael's room. Five minutes later, Michael still hadn't come out and J.D. was genuinely worried, mostly for the sake of his legs.

"Are you still . . . alive in there?" J.D. called out and shifted uncomfortably on the couch, making an annoying squeaking sound.

"Yeah. Yeah." Came the muffled response. "I just got. . . ow! Stupid. I'm okay. . . ow, ow, ow. Dammit! Maybe I'm not okay. . ." Michael grew silent again. J.D. burst out laughing and after he calmed down, looked up at Michael who was holding a pair of jeans out to him.

"What happened?" J.D. gratefully accepted the torn pair of jeans and pulled them viciously on.

"I got a splinter." Michael eventually admitted, showing J.D. the long piece of wood snuggled into his palm.

"That's all? Do you have tweezers?"

"Well, duh. That's what I was using. Here." Michael placed them in J.D.'s hand steadily. J.D. cleared his throat but said nothing and pulled Michael's hand up close to his face.

"That's a pretty big piece of wood there." J.D. continued to inspect the hand, wondering how he was going to go about removing the long splinter. "It's also very deep in there. What'd you do stick it in there yours…" J.D. stopped talking and blushed.

I really do have problems. What the heck is going on! Keep acting like this, J.D., and I'll end up throwing myself out the window. . .

"J.D.?" Michael asked softly. J.D. looked up slowly, a faint shade of red still on his cheeks.

"Sorry. I realized what I was saying was a little. . ." J.D.'s cheeks flushed completely again.

"Were you looking at my hand?"

"What? Yeah, yeah. Why did you. . . oh."

"Then it's okay. Just get this out. It kind of hurts." Michael smiled and flinched as J.D. did not hesitate to dig the tweezers in. "Ow, ow, ow…" he moaned and J.D. looked up.

"Baby." He grinned.

"I am not!" Michael gasped and put a hand to his heart in an obvious over dramatization.

"Are too! I'm barely touching you and you're crying already!"

"I'm am most absolutely not crying!" Michael replied indignantly. J.D. burrowed the tweezers in and in less than a fifth of a second, the splinter was gone. "How. . . how did you do that?" Michael inspected his hand carefully.

"I'm a doctor, remember?"

"A damn good one, I might add." Michael smiled politely and suddenly felt the urge to kiss the other man's cheek. He knew, though, providing for the reaction of J.D. the last time they kissed. He ended up giving him a gentle pat on the hand.

That's it? A pat on the hand? Am I losing my touch?

"Do. . . do you remember why I came here in the first place?" J.D. finally sat up and looked at the clock, which now read 11:32 pm. He'd only been there for a half hour?

"I think we were going to talk about the horrible mistake I made last night." Michael embarrassingly stared down at his lap before going to search for a band aid to cover his wound.

"Oh. Yeah. I wouldn't say it was horrible. . ." J.D. shrugged and scratched an itch annoying his head. He made a face as he performed such a task, but Michael failed to notice.

"But it was a mistake, is that what you're saying?" Michael rejoined J.D. on the couch and stared intently into J.D.'s eyes.

Bravo. Great.

"It was just a . . . surprise. That's it." J.D. knew he was getting nowhere fast and figured that now would be an excellent time to leave. He stood quickly and headed for the door.

"Wh-where are you going?" Michael was more than startled as he stood, not knowing how else to react.

"I realized everything I've said isn't helping. I'm just going to go home." J.D. pulled the door open. He didn't quite understand why he was doing this himself, but he knew that if he didn't get out, things would get incredibly awkward. Unfortunately, he had a hard time saying exactly what he just thought.

"But . . ." Michael blinked and J.D. swore that he saw his Michael's bottom lip quiver a little. All J.D. managed to let pass his lips was the word:

"Awkward-ness." Which wasn't even a real word in on itself, J.D. realized as he walked out, closing the door softly behind him.

And as he eventually made it outside and went to catch a bus, Michael sat back on his couch and cried. Mostly because he was mad at himself and also, he hoped he got his pants back at some point.

Because, the pants didn't technically belong to Michael in the first place. And the owner of them was coming back in two days.

And the so afore mentioned owner would kill Michael if he knew he had kissed another man while he was out.

Michael had just realized. . . he was screwed.

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I'm sorry if that was really bad! I promise it will get better. Promise!