I'd just like to thank those lovely ladies for their reviews, and those people who have favourited or followed. I apologise sincerely for the delay... and I lied... it's going to be at least three chapters. So the Muse doesn't want to shut up and wrap the story up nice and concisely it would seem!
I hope it is worth the wait. Feedback would be appreciated. :) xo
Title: Two of Us 2/3?
Author: Kylie (kyliesmilie26)
Pairing: Who else? M/E
Rating: R. For swearing and mentions of adult themes – alcohol (it seems to crop out a *lot* in this chapter), and drugs
Summary: Okay… let's attempt to do a proper summary. Michael and Eric have been in a relationship – of sorts – for several years. One has realised that he is in love with the other person; question is, does that other love him back? Or have any kind of deep feelings for him at all? And what will happen when an attempt is made to talk about it?
Disclaimer: I don't own, or have anything to do with, the amazing Michael Palin or Eric Idle. Or the other fabulous Pythons. They are real people and own themselves. I just fawn over them like the squeeing fangirl that I am.
*M&E*
Previously…
"Fucking hell Mike. I never knew you were into men that way…"
Michael shrugged, completely at a loss at what to say that could possibly explain why he just kissed his best friend.
"Sorry Tel." It seemed to be the only thing that his mouth could say.
"Maybe I'm not the one you should be apologising to." Terry eventually said, gesturing with his facial expression to his left.
Michael could not believe his eyes. Eric was standing there, seemingly frozen to the spot with the saddest look etched in those baby blues.
Fuck… how much did he see?
He had a strong inkling that that expression would be forever imprinted in his mind.
"Eric…"
"Don't Michael. Just don't."
*M&E*
He anxiously walked into the room. The sight on the bed that greeted, (greeted – huh, there had to be someone laughing down at him at that – oh the irony of it all), him just about shattered him to the core. Oh hell…
He couldn't move for several moments as he absorbed the seriousness of the other man's – his lover, there was no denying that now – condition. There were tubes everywhere; he was hooked up to just about every machine in the hospital surely. The intensity of the situation was overwhelming. Oh I'm so so sorry… this is all my fault…
He slowly approached the bed and slumped down wearily into the chair beside his comatose lover. He scooted his chair closer; he needed to be close to him. He carefully wove his hand in between that of his lover's. It eased his shot nerves a touch to feel the slither of warmth coming from that delicate hand – it was the reassurance that he was indeed still alive and breathing. That was a lie; the machine was breathing for him, but still he was alive at this point, and that was all that mattered...
He leaned in and tenderly kissed his forehead, careful to avoid the recently patched up angry wounds and the forming dark bruises found there.
"I'm so sorry. You have to get better and open those eyes… you just have to…"
I don't think I could ever, ever forgive myself if you don't…
*M&E*
Thirty-six hours earlier…
Oh shit. What the hell have I done? Michael thought miserably as he sadly watched Eric's lightning retreating form. That look on his face… bloody hell. Kill me now. Perhaps I do *like* Eric. Like him a lot. And I've just gone and fucked it up. This is a nightmare… it has to be a nightmare.
"What the fuck was that about Mike?" Terry asked, his emotional tone seeping through Michael's inner frenzied ramblings. And in amongst all those chaotic thoughts, not once did he think about how it affected Terry; the only thing that suddenly mattered was Eric. That look of utter devastation imprinted into Eric's features was an epiphany for the Python.
Michael shook his head, as if to clear his mind of the extensive reflections clouding his conscious. He could tell that Terry was still shaken and angered by the kiss. You're a dickhead Palin.
"I'm so sorry Tel. I don't know what I was thinking."
"That much is obvious. Don't mind about that. What I want to know is what the hell is going on between you and Eric. Now after that display you cannot tell me nothing is going on…"
Michael sighed, putting his head in his hands, which ran a wild path through his dark tendrils. "I've fucked up Tel. That's what I've done. I think I might have broken a man's heart…"
*M&E*
Michael kissed Terry.
Michael kissed Terry.
Michael kissed Terry.
Snap out of it Idle. You should have seen this coming. It only proves he feels nothing for me, that's all, no big deal.
"Keep telling yourself that Idle. You might believe it one day." He muttered quietly to himself, rolling his light blue eyes. "Fuck I need a fag. No scratch that – a joint or three and a dozen cans of strong scotch would be better." He just had to get legless; he had to get to the point where he did not care, feel anymore.
He had fled from the 'scene of the crime' as soon as he heard Michael's voice calling out to him. Until that moment he could not move, it was like Michael's voice had acted as a trigger for his brain to move. He had seen it all in painstaking detail. Terry and Michael – his Michael – in a close, and heated conservation, no doubt about them, and in horror watched Michael lean in and kiss Terry. Hard. Time stopped to the typical slow motion one saw in pivotal moments in movies.
Why Mikey… why?
What did I do wrong?
"Eric?"
Oh fuck. I do not want to talk to him…
"Eric, are you in here?"
How on earth did he find me?
"I just want to talk to you, please?"
For what? So you can rub my face in it? No thanks.
*M&E*
Terry, bless his heart, had listened patiently; and more importantly attentively, to Michael's heartfelt story. And for once, kept his mouth shut as Michael poured his heart out. About everything that had been haunting his being since the falling out with Eric. He simply listened, and did what old friends should do – be a sounding board when required.
Which is what brought Michael here now, trying to coax Eric out of his hiding spot in the toilet cubicle. Terry had all but ordered him to find Eric now and firstly apologise and tell him what he had just heard. "He needs to know that Mike. It's pretty clear from his reaction to what he saw how much he loves you. You have to make this right."
Michael recognised this with painful clarity. As soon as he saw those distraught, horrified baby blue eyes staring dejectedly back at him, he knew he had to fix what he had broken…
He couldn't be one hundred percent sure that Eric was hiding in the toilet, but his intuition told him otherwise. It was not like Eric to cower in a toilet, (that's not to say that he wouldn't do other things in a toilet cubicle… Oh save that thought for another time Palin), but Michael knew that his actions with Terry had most likely temporarily reverted him back to the mindset of a young child. You're an idiot Palin. And a coward.
"Eric, I know you're in here. I understand if you don't want to talk to me right now. But will you please hear me out?"
He paced round the relatively small, but nicely furbished bathroom while he waited for a response. As expected he didn't get one. Eric was nothing but stubborn at the best of times. Especially so when upset. I know him so well; yet I don't really know him at all.
He sighed, and slowly approached the closed door of the cubicle. He could have sworn he heard someone softly weeping. He's crying? Oh bloody hell Eric what are you doing to me?
Michael sighed for the second time in minutes. "Look Eric, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had seen that-"
"Oh so I wasn't supposed to see it… well how was I supposed to find out? Through Gray being all sympathetic – oh poor Eric…" Eric interrupted, finally unable to maintain his silence on the matter.
No wonder he took that the wrong way Palin… "That's not what I meant! You shouldn't have had to see it at all. It was a mistake-"
"A mistake that I happened to see it you mean? Fuck Michael I just happen to work with you both!"
"No! You're completely misinterpreting what I'm saying! I didn't mean to kiss him at all!"
"Yeah you didn't mean to stick your tongue down his throat. Of course not."
Michael hated how Eric seemed so defeated by this. At the same time, he was trying to keep a lid on a simmering anger at Eric's complete lack of desire to even try to understand. "Look I said I was sorry okay! I was just confused about everything and it just happened… I am sorry Eric, really." How can I explain it all so easily to Terry, and I barely even know where to begin to Eric?
"So you kissed Terry because you were confused?"
"Yes-"
"Confused about what? Me?"
He sounded so lost. Michael envisaged a six year old Eric for the second time in ten minutes. "Well… yeah-"
"So you kissed Terry because you were confused about me. Hope it helped Mike."
"Don't be like that Eric." Michael all but pleaded, "I wanted to know if I felt anything like that for any other men."
There was silence from the other side of the cubicle. Mike hoped that he might have finally said something that got through to Eric what he was trying to convey. That he was indeed genuinely sorry that he kissed Terry – he wasn't lying when he said it was a mistake through nothing but fatigue brought on by all his constant and confused thoughts about Eric. It did make one thing clear though – he certainly did not have any romantic feelings for Terry or any other man… except Eric.
"Eric?"
What seemed like an eternity later he heard the lock click and door slowly open. A rather dishevelled Eric emerged – his hair a mess (it looked like he had been continually running his hands through it), clothes rumpled and eyes red (oh hell, he had been crying) – peering through the door. "And?"
"And what?"
"Did you feel anything?"
Michael shook his head, a small smile threatening to escape.
"Oh." Eric mumbled, looking down at the tiled floor.
Why did he sound so disappointed at this?
"I should go…" Eric tried to move away, but Michael refused to let him leave and flee. Not again.
"Michael, please get out of my way."
Mike shook his head, pinning him to the bathroom wall.
"Michael…"
He silenced Eric by fusing their mouths together. He had to show Eric that he was the only one he had any feelings for (and that he was so sorry for kissing Terry). What better way to do it but kiss him? And, this kiss was far, far superior to the one he had stupidly, foolishly initiated with Terry earlier, despite Eric's lack of response…
Eric could feel himself melting into the kiss… until his unforgivingly stupid conscious remembered why Michael was kissing him in the first place…
He broke the kiss, pulling away. He was finding it so very hard to look at Michael at this point in time. "No, I can't."
Michael couldn't help but feel hurt by Eric's rejection. "Why, what's wrong?"
His eyes were again on the floor. "I can't get that kiss out of my mind."
"I am sorry Eric, you have to believe me." Michael pleaded, grasping Eric's hand in his and cupping his face with the other in a last ditch attempt to get Eric to accept his apology.
Eric nodded sadly, "I know… but every time I close my eyes I see you kissing him… it fucking hurt Mike. I love you, but I just don't know if I can forgive you…"
Michael nodded in defeat; it was his turn to cast his eyes to the floor. He stepped aside so that Eric could make his escape.
"Fuck…"
What do I do now?
*M&E*
Two of us, just the two of us
Not too many or too few of us
Two of us together in any kind of weather,
Two of us together just the two of us…
He had to get that fucking song out of his head. It was only bringing back wonderful memories of yesteryear, now tinged by Michael's indiscretion and lack of judgement. Does the person upstairs hate me that much? He thought bitterly, finishing the last of yet another scotch, shuddering at its not so pleasant aftertaste.
Three's a crowd…
Oh the bloody irony. "Mike'sh probably giving Terry a nishe old fuck… and I'm the fucking third wheel…" Miserably, he stumbled off his uncomfortable loveseat and unsteadily made his way to the kitchen to grab another scotch. "Oh it'sh the lasht one… how many did I 'av?" Six? Eight? Twelve? He couldn't remember, and he didn't much care.
The image of Michael kissing Terry was on constant replay in his overwrought mind. This, combined with the copious amounts of alcohol fuelled a continuous image of Michael banging Terry; pounding at a furious pace. It was a vicious cycle, as this only made him want to drink even more; to get into a state of drunken oblivion. Allow himself at least a few small hours to forget… (Although truth be told a part of him knew that deep inside he wouldn't be able to drown the memory away…)
"Oh god Tel. You're so fucking tight."
"S'good Mike, so s'good. Don't stop."
"Wouldn't dare Tel. Please tell me you're close baby."
"Mmmm, fuck Mikey…"
"Only I can call him Mikey, Jonesh." Eric slurred dismally. "No one elshe…" He desperately hoped that he would not see any more of that image than his mind had already conjured.
"Why Mikey? What'sh wrong wif me? 'Sides from the fact I'mma fucked up… usheleshhs loosher…"
There was a soft thumping coming from somewhere. Eric couldn't quite work out where it was coming from or what it even was. By now, Eric had sunk to the cold, hard floor of his kitchen, physically unable to stand. "Oh I'm fucked…"
There was that thumping noise again. "Go 'way." He said to the noise, it was hurting his head.
"Oh Eric, what have you done to yourself?"
"Michael?" I am fucked – I'm seeing things…
Except he wasn't. Mike was indeed standing there beside him. In his haste to make himself legless Eric had forgotten to lock the door behind him when he got home hours earlier.
Michael had let himself in. He had been worried about Eric, the words "I love you, but I don't know if I can forgive you" weighing heavily upon him. (He also felt horrible about this mess they found themselves in). And rightly so given his current drunken state. His alarm had increased upon finding the door unlocked. He had been deliberating on whether or not to give Eric some space for a day or two, but his increasingly guilty conscience won the battle. Whatever shit I cop from him is no less than I deserve.
He crouched down so he could join Eric on the floor.
"You're not here, you're fucking Jonesh…" Eric drunkenly muttered, obviously not quite believing what he was seeing. He was staring mindlessly at what he thought had to be a hallucination…
"Now how can I be doing that when I'm here? How many of those have you had Eric?" Mike asked, his tone depicting his concern as he gestured to the can of scotch lying limply in Eric's hand.
Eric's glassy gaze fell to the drink in his hand. "Dunno. Not enough…" Came the slurred response. Michael knew Eric well enough to know that depending on what frame of mind Eric was in prior to drinking profoundly influenced whether he was a happy, giggly drunk, or a miserable, angry drunk.
Eric suddenly found it rather difficult to keep himself upright. He rested his head on Michael's shoulder. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was Michael sitting there next to him. Nothing… "What'sh wrong wif me Mikey? Why don'tch you like me?" His words were almost incomprehensible; such was the extent of his slurring, and combined with his sullen mood.
"Oh mate there's nothing wrong with you. And I do like you Eric." Michael replied, deliberating when would be a good time to take the can out of his hold. Not just yet.
"No you don't. You kisshed Jonesh."
"I still like you Eric, not Terry or Gil, or Gray or John or Carol or anyone. I like you." He couldn't quite believe that he found the sudden courage to divulge that piece of information, or where that courage had come from… Oh well, it's out now… if it appeases Eric even a little, then I don't care. Will he even remember? I hope so… even just a little bit… not sure if I could so easily reveal all when he's sober…
Eric looked up at him once he had processed what he had just heard. His blue eyes, which currently had a glazed countenance, were wide open in surprise. "You do?"
Mike nodded, smiling. He looks absolutely adorable. "Well I like all of us Pythons, but I like you."
A small smile was threatening to escape; Michael could see the corners of Eric's mouth twitch. "D'you mean it Mikey?"
Michael could not help but chuckle at this. He really was adorable. Why on earth did it take me so long to realise that? "Yes I do."
That smile turned into a full on drunken grin. "Goosh, cos I like you too. I like you a lot." He slurred, and again laid his head on Michael's shoulder, sighing contentedly.
Michael grinned and felt his cheeks turn red. He took this opportunity to gently pry the half empty can of scotch out of Eric's grasp.
"I ain't finished that…" Eric whined.
Mike chuckled for the second time in a matter of minutes. "I think you've had enough Eric. You're going to have one hell of a sore head in the morning."
"Mmm perhapsh." He mumbled sleepily.
Michael smiled, "Okay, time to get you to bed."
"Whats are you imply… imply… implying Mr Palinsh?" He chortled, as he hiccupped drunkenly.
"Nothing in your condition Idle. You need a glass of water and a good night's sleep."
"You're no funsh anymore Mikey."
"Perhaps, but you'll thank me in the morning. Come on, let's get you up eh?"
"Mm'kay." Eric replied, unable to hold back a yawn.
"Lift your head up." Michael instructed, referring to the fact that Eric still had his head resting comfortably atop of his shoulder. As Eric complied, Michael moved around so he was facing poor Eric and took the blonde's hands in his. "You ready? One two three." Together, they stood up, Eric swaying almost violently due to the alcohol flowing inanely through his system.
"Oh my god…" Eric moaned, Why the fuck did I swallow all that scotch? So going to hate myself in the morning… "Can't dosh itsh Mikey. It'sh too hard."
"I've got you; you'll be okay when you're all tucked up in bed."
"Oh fuuuccck…"
Michael turned to look at Eric at this latest protest. He had turned pale; a sickly grey kind of colour. Uh oh… "Are you okay? Do you need to be sick?"
Upon hearing the word 'sick', Eric turned all but green and pursed his lips together in a desperate attempt to hold back the rising bile that he knew was coming. He loathed being sick with a passion. "No…"
Mike could not help but be concerned for Eric's immediate welfare at this point. He was verging on paralytic judging by his level of intoxication. He had never, never seen Eric this bad… (And Eric had been plenty pissed plenty of times), and he knew it was his entire fault. "You sure?"
Eric nodded grimly, gritting his teeth. "Ugh… fuck I'mma be sick…"
Thankfully they were still in Eric's small kitchen and Michael had had the forethought to walk towards the sink, having suspected that he would need to be sick. Eric was too out of it to really notice. Hell, Mike didn't really know if Eric still thought that he wasn't actually there…
Michael couldn't help but feel for him; his guilty conscience having conniptions as Eric heaved and spat pathetically all that his stomach had to offer and then some down the sink. He couldn't look; as the sight of sick made him want to hurl, however he made sure that Eric had all the support he needed – a firm arm around his waist and his free hand keeping his long, blonde locks out of the way.
"Ugh I'mma fucking fucked Mikey…" Eric eventually murmured some minutes later. He was leaning heavily against the sink, his elongated fingers gripping the edge tightly.
"Yeah I think you are. But you'll be fine this time tomorrow, I promise." Michael replied, unable to refrain from placing a tender kiss on Eric's forehead.
Eric looked up at him, those hazy blue eyes showing a myriad of emotions; soft being the most prominent. "Mhm." I am definitely imagining things… there's no way he can be really here… saying all these wonderful, delightful words to me…kissing me…
"Come on, time for bed mate."
It took a while, (with Eric barely able to walk let alone climb the stairs to his room – stumbling on almost every step), but finally Eric was safely tucked up in bed with a glass of water and aspirin on his bedside table. "You get some sleep Eric. I'll come and see how you're doing sometime tomorrow."
Eric had snuggled deep into his pillows; whether he had heard him Michael wasn't sure. He was half-asleep already. "Mmm… stay Mikey, pleashe?"
Gah… he's so hard to resist when he's like this…
"I should go…" Maybe if I slept on the couch just in case?
"Pleashe Mikey, me 'ead 'urts."
Michael rolled his eyes at his own powerlessness to not succumb to Eric's childlike behaviour. "Alright Eric, I'll sleep on the couch okay? If you need me just sing out."
Eric somehow sunk even further into his pillows, seemingly content with this response. "Mmkay, night Mikey."
Michael smiled, as he switched off the light, "Night Eric." As he walked down the stairs, he could have sworn he heard an "I love you" come from the bedroom…
Oh Eric… I think I love you too…
*M&E*
Eric did not have the most plentiful night's sleep in history. He tossed and turned all night… the effects of the alcohol becoming more evident with each passing hour. If he wasn't holding his head in his hands and whimpering at the pain, he was stumbling blindly to the bathroom to throw up.
Needless to say Michael didn't fare much better. He winced in sympathy when he heard the taller man's moans and groans echoing down the stairs in an excruciating clarity. It seemed to happen on the hour, every hour. The first couple of times he had woken to Eric's plaintive moaning he had bolted and practically bolted up the stairs to help his increasingly hungover friend, making sure he got to the bathroom alright and that he was rehydrating with water. In the end, he opted to simply stay in the bedroom with him, despite the lingering stale smell of booze and sick (a frightful combination) – it had to be better than continually going up and down the stairs all night. The only thing he had to make sure of was that he was not there when Eric woke up in the morning… That might not turn out too well…
It was well past ten when Eric finally awoke from his troubled sleep, his eyes fluttering open.
"Oh shit…" He murmured, holding his head in the softness of his pillow, seeking some relief from the blinding pain rampaging through his head that seemed to transcend throughout his thirty year old body. "Did I get hit by a truck or something?" He wondered, "And where the hell am I?"
Several moments later he had managed to ascertain that he was in someone's bedroom… Mine? Can't remember a fucking thing…
Disjointed images came to life. Going home early (and embarrassingly in tears). Immediately heading for the fridge to empty it of its alcohol supply. Collapsing to the floor because he could no longer stand up. Getting sick? Michael...
Mikey?
It was then other images jumped to the forefront of his conscious. Michael kissing Terry, Michael having sex with Terry… Okay, so he wasn't one hundred percent sure that the last one wasn't just a product of his imagination but still…
"Fuck kill me now…"
His heart shattered for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. How am I going to face them again? It just hurts…
"Ugh…" He had to stop thinking; it was hurting his poor head too much.
He then noticed a glass of water and some pain killers sitting on his bedside table. How did they get there? He decided he didn't care and fumbled for the tablets and glass, wolfing them down. They better be fucking industrial strength.
As soon as had he taken the medication, he slumped back down into his pillows. That effort had taken all his strength. That's pissweak Idle…
Sleepily, he closed his eyes and drifted once again into a restless slumber…
"What?" He asked, laughing. "Why the hell are you staring at me?"
"Your eyes…"
"What about my eyes?"
"They're so pretty."
"What? You're talking bullshit." He felt his cheeks maddeningly redden from embarrassment. This should not be affecting him so…
"I'm serious. They're lovely."
"Oh my god you are completely and utterly fucked aren't you?" It would be so much easier to handle this is he was pissed also (no doubt he'd kiss him senseless and rip off his clothes), but he'd hardly touched a drop. So why did a part of him still want to do that?
"Maybe, maybe not… but that doesn't mean I'm not being completely and utterly serious. And it's not just your eyes. It's your hair – it's so… it's so… magnificent. Long and so golden. I could put my fingers through it all day and it smells so good…"
Was this a dream? He didn't actually seem wasted…
"Mike, you're creeping me out here." His whole face seemingly flushing a deeper shade of red. But he could not deny what the other man's words were doing to him…
Michael was even closer now than mere seconds ago. And he was doing exactly what he spoke of only moments before, running his fingers through his blonde locks; teasing and threading.
Eric groaned audibly when Michael began to repeatedly kiss his cheek. Hell, this was going all pear-shaped at a furious pace…
"You like that don'tcha Eric?"
Oh god…
"I know you like that Eric." He grasped the other side of his face so that Eric was face to face with Michael. He quickly closed the miniscule gap between them and kissed him… this time on Eric's soft and inviting lips.
Oh to hell with it. It had to be a dream. There's no way in hell Michael would be so loving and eager to seduce him like this when sober in the real world…
Before things got too heated between them something changed. "What do you think you're doing Mike?"
Terry stood there. He seemingly appeared out of thin air. Michael broke off the kiss, turning to face his writing partner and close friend. Eric hoped Mike would tell him to piss off and quickly continue this wonderful make-out session…
To his horror Michael pulled out of the tight embrace they had found themselves in and scooted over to Terry. "I wanted to make you jealous love. Did it work?"
"Oh fuck yes. I'm so turned on right now."
"You were watching the whole time weren't you love?"
Terry nodded.
"Good."
Michael kissed Terry passionately. Again and again…
Eric could scarcely believe his eyes and ears. Never ever had he felt so betrayed…
Eric's eyes flew open, his heart pounding to within an inch of its life. "Thank god that was a dream." He muttered, pleasantly surprised to find his throbbing alcohol-induced headache somewhat dulled. He still felt like death warmed up mind.
But Michael kissing Terry was not a dream. That was real.
"Fuck."
He stumbled down the stairs sometime later, his body moaning in protest. His eyes widened in surprise at what he saw…
"Michael?"
Michael glanced up from the paper he was reading. He had heard Eric, it was almost impossible not to given how much noise he was making. "Hello Eric. How are you feeling?" Truth be told, he had started to worry – it was now past midday.
"What are you doing here?" He asked, completely ignoring Michael. His voice was scratchy and Mike couldn't help but inwardly cringe at the rasping huskiness he heard.
"I wanted to see how you were."
"How do you reckon I'm doing? I feel like I've gone ten rounds with Ali." Eric snapped irritably, answering Michael's query from moments ago.
Michael hummed in sympathy. "Do you want anything?"
Eric stared at him in confusion. What the hell is he doing here and why does he want to help?
"Eric?" Michael's soft voice brought him out of his musings. "Do you need anything?"
Maybe for you to tell me what the fuck you're playing at… "No…"
Michael nodded, and couldn't quite contain the feeling of hurt at Eric's bluntness. Don't be stupid Palin. You had to expect him to be like this…
"Why are you here Mike?"
Okay, he doesn't remember… hardly surprising. "I told you, I wanted to see how you were doing." He replied, shrugging, waiting for the barrage…
"How did you know I would be wrecked? Were you here?" Eric asked, his exhausted and hungover mind starting to put the pieces together.
Mike nodded. "Yeah, I had to see that you were okay after-"
"After what? After you kissing the shit out of Terry and then trying to make it all better by kissing me in the dunny?" His roaring headache was back with a vengeance.
"I was worried Eric! And I meant what I said to you yesterday." Michael exclaimed, trying to defend himself.
"Yeah that you didn't mean for it to happen and only did it because you were confused after me. Ya di ya di ya ya da." Eric retorted, unable to get that heartbreaking image out of his head, despite all the scotch. His hands massaged his weary temples. You fucking idiot Idle – did you really think it was going to work? All it ended up giving you was the worst hangover in history.
Something inside Michael broke. He has to get over it sooner or later. He can't hang it over me forever. Especially not after all the trouble I went to looking after him in his drunken state… "And I also said that it meant nothing!" Michael fired back. "For fuck sake Eric – I tended to you in your inebriated state last night. I stayed here all night – at your request mind you - to make sure that you wouldn't drown in your own vomit or anything and this is the thanks I get! You're something else Idle you know that?"
Eric's eyes softened for a moment upon hearing this. "You stayed with me, the whole night? So I wasn't hallucinating?" He asked, almost to himself more than the other man as fragmented memories again came back to him. Perhaps they were real. Maybe Mikey did say that he likes me… "Thank you Mike, that means a lot."
"Yeah I did. You're an ungrateful selfish bastard." Michael griped, rather harshly, seemingly not hearing Eric's sincere gratitude.
"Fuck Palin. I just thanked you for looking after me you bastard." Eric pointed out, his hands going to massage his aching temples yet again. "Get out. I can take it from here."
"Hope you feel better soon." Michael snapped, making his way for the door. Seconds later, the door slammed with a painfully deafening bang that did absolutely nothing for Eric's agonising forehead and exhausted being.
*M&E*
He stared at his lover's frail, fragile form on the hospital bed. He could not take his eyes away from the horrible, yet very real, sight that would haunt him for some time to come… if not the rest of his days. He could not believe that he was sitting here in this hospital room, watching him fight for life.
His hand continued to hold the other man's. His other hand had found its way to his hair, which now seemed so listless. His fingers seemed to love playing with his hair it seemed. "You do need to wake up okay? I have to make things right and show you exactly how much you mean to me."
TBC…