When Mike's consciousness slowly climbed back up again the next morning, it took him some time to realize why his bed suddenly had the faint scent of expensive leather. When he opened his eyes, reality immediately kicked in. He was at Harvey's. His own house was gone.
He lied on his back staring at the ceiling.
Mike still hadn't decided whether he was relieved or saddened that everything he owned was consumed by fire. A bit of both probably.
Thank God he was insured. The only things he was really attached to were some pictures and letters from his parents. But he always carried them around with him. His grandmother had warned him that he would probably lose them and she told him that he should put them in a safe place in his apartment. He was glad he had ignored her advice.
He looked at his watch. It was still early. Harvey would probably be fast asleep. Imagining Harvey asleep, so close by, sent a little, very pleasant shiver down his spine.
Why not indulge myself?
Without making a sound, he got up from the couch. Treading carefully he walked over to Harvey's bedroom. He looked up and said a quick prayer. While holding his breath he ever so carefully pushed the door handle down. He opened the door just wide enough to see Harvey lying in bed.
He knew beforehand that he would enjoy the view, but the effect it had on him exceeded his expectations.
Harvey was indeed fast asleep. He was lying on his back and the white silk blanket formed the perfect background for his beautiful body. The thin line of hair that appeared from the edge of his black boxers and up his gorgeous torso completely mesmerised Mike. He felt his own body waking up in all the wrong places. Fighting off an overwhelming urge to get in there and do all kinds of things that would probably make Harvey kill him on the spot, he pulled away and gently closed the door again.
He leaned against the doorframe and tried to catch his breath. He had always been attracted to Harvey. Who wouldn't be? But he had somehow always managed to keep it at some distant level. Like how you knew some people were just drop dead gorgeous, but completely out of reach. He had never even contemplated kissing Harvey.
But now that temptation had suddenly become very real and tangible. And now he found himself imagining what it would taste like to follow that trail of hair with his tongue, all the way down...
Jesus Mike, get a grip! He had to snap out of it before Harvey would wake up. He needed a shower. Either very hot or very cold.
And so, after a short but very effective cold shower, he walked over to the kitchen to make coffee and scrambled eggs. Making Harvey a decent breakfast was the least he could do to repay him for letting him crash on his priceless couch.
While he gathered all the things he needed from the fridge he wondered if there was a way he could prolong his stay here.
-
Harvey awoke to the sound of muffled cursing and the tantalizing aroma of sizzling bacon.
It took him a moment to remember last night's unexpected—and unwelcome—visitor, but his rational mind told him that Mike and the scent of breakfast cooking were somehow related. With a groan, he looked at his alarm clock, blinking repeatedly and scrubbing his hands through his mussed hair. Why was Mike up this early and more importantly, why was he making so much noise?
With a groan he heaved himself out of bed and stumbled into his seldom-utilized, state-of-the-art kitchen.
Mike was flipping some sort of egg concoction in a skillet, completely unaware of Harvey's presence. Harvey spied the bacon, cooking perfectly in the pan on the stove, and the plates set out on his dining table. He adamantly ignored the feelings this setting elicited and instead went to stand blearily behind Mike.
After a minute, and a loud throat clearing noise, Mike finally noticed Harvey's presence. He jumped a bit and nearly sent the spatula flying across the room. "Jesus!"
"No, just me, I'm afraid," Harvey smirked.
"Ha. Ha." Mike returned to the skillet and began fiddling with the knobs on the stove. "Go sit down. It's almost done."
"Mike," Harvey said, not moving from his spot.
"Yeah?"
"It's five-thirty in the morning."
There was a pause before a reply came. "I know," he defended.
Harvey sighed and seated himself. After a minute or so, Mike was scraping some sort of egg scramble onto their plates, heaping bacon slices atop them, and pouring them orange juice and coffee.
"This better not be because you screwed up my couch and you just don't want me to notice," Harvey quipped tiredly.
Mike smiled around a large forkful of egg. "I screwed up your couch and I don't want you to notice." At Harvey's glare, he added, "Thanks for letting me."
Harvey grunted out something that sounded almost but not entirely unlike "You're welcome".