Archive of Our Own

The crappy dance music that has been playing on an endless loop since Michael was dragged into the club is starting to really get on his nerves, despite the Jack Daniel’s he’s been downing since he got here. He was promised that as long as went to a bar with Calum and Ashton for Cal’s birthday for a little while, they wouldn’t drag him into one of the nightclubs in town, but by using blackmail and guilt tripping him, they got him into “Le Panton Rouge” or something equally horrific. He scrunches his face up in disgust when he even thinks of the name.

He’s been sitting at the bar since he came into the club more than an hour ago, declining Calum and Ashton’s pleads to join them on the dance floor. Already he’s had two girls come up to him, touching his arm and flicking their hair, and he wasn’t even in the mood to turn them down nicely. They just walked away muttering something like “self conceited arsehole”. He didn’t care enough to really listen.

He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, taking it without soda, and relishing the burn that hits the back of his throat when he swallows it. He gestures to the barman with his empty glass, and slides his money over the counter as his glass is being filled up.

He spins around on the bar stool, scanning the dance floor for Ashton and Calum, spotting them almost instantly despite the strobe lighting and mass of bodies obstructing his view. Calum has his arms around Ashton’s neck, and even though they’re being bumped into and are pressed against numerous other bodies, they look like they’re in their own little bubble, the only two people in the club. Michael finds himself unable to look at them much longer, something like jealousy burning a hole in his gut. But he will never admit that to anyone, ever.

He’s not a romantic, not by a long shot, but even he will admit that waking up in someone’s arms, warm and safe, is better than waking up alone in dirty sheets with a hangover that has a vengeance. He lets out a little sigh when Ashton brings his lips down to meet Calum’s, and the smile Calum sends up when they pull apart makes Michael’s heart ache a little.

And since Michael is going home alone he decides he’s going to go home so drunk he can’t even see. He downs the remnants of the whiskey, sucks a cube of ice into his mouth, and turns to put the empty glass on the counter, crushing the ice between his teeth. The bartender just asks “Another?” and Michael nods, his body succumbing to the quantity of alcohol he’s drank and he feels sedated and tired, limbs heavy.  

A glass of whiskey is placed in front of him, and he just stares at it, putting his elbow on the bar and resting his head in his hand. He’s too hot and too tired, the loud music making his bad mood worse, and he could easily head home, send Calum a text explaining his whereabouts, and slide into bed. But he’s still too sober and a little miserable.

He audibly sighs, and is about to take a sip of his whiskey when he feels more than sees someone sit on the stool next to his. “Why so glum?” the stranger asks, and all Michael knows is that it is neither Ashton nor Calum so he doesn’t even want to answer. He wants the stranger to go away so he can sulk in peace.

“’M not glum,” Michael says, still not looking at whoever he’s talking to. “Why would I be glum? My friends force me into a nightclub and then piss off to dry hump each other on the dance floor. How could anyone be glum in a situation like that?”

There’s a laugh then, light and airy, and it intrigues Michael enough to take his eyes from the multicoloured bottles lining the shelf behind the bar and look at the person sitting beside him. His throat goes a little dry when his own eyes are met with bright blue ones, and he can’t help it when his eyes fall, scanning across a wide chest and toned shoulders.

“Would a drink make you feel less glum?” Michael scoffs at the lame pick up line and lifts his glass to show the stranger that he’s sorted in the drink department.

“As much as alcohol helps,” Michael says, “it really doesn’t make this place any less of a shithole.”

“Yeah,” the stranger agrees, lifting a glass from the bar and sucking up the green concoction through a straw.

“So what about you? What’s your story?” Michael asks, watching the adam’s apple bob in the stranger’s throat as he swallow more of his drink. “What’s a handsome guy like you doing all alone and talking to some mopey geezer at the bar instead of dancing?”

“Thought the mopey geezer looked like he could use some cheering up.” And Michael really can’t help but smile back at the face splitting grin that’s plastered on the stranger’s face. “I’m Luke,” he says, holding out a hand for Michael to take.

“Michael,” he answers, taking Luke’s hand and shaking it a couple of times, feeling like a bit of a dick. It’s probably the most formal introduction that’s ever taken place in the night club.

“So, Michael,” Luke starts, “have you been out dancing at all tonight?”

“Nope. I’ve been sitting here so long my butt cheeks are probably engrained into the seat. I don’t dance.”

Luke takes the straw out of his glass and swallows the rest of his drink. “Wanna dance with me?” he asks, placing the empty glass on the bar and wiping his hands on his jeans.

Michael laughs before finishing off his whiskey and placing his glass beside Luke’s. “Oh, hell no. I can’t dance. I’m flattered and all, but no.”

“C’mon,” Luke says, standing up from his seat and grabbing Michael’s wrist. Michael surprises himself when he doesn’t pull his wrist from Luke’s grasp, or even punch him in the face, but allows himself to be pulled from his seat into a standing position. “It’s really fun.”

“I can’t dance.”

“You’ve said that. Look, all you gotta do is-,” Luke says, moving in close to Michael and Michael can actually feel his blood pressure rising. Luke smells like cologne and something fruity, probably whatever he was drinking, and the smell invades Michael’s brain and makes it fuzzy, clouding his better judgment.  Luke grabs one of Michael’s hands and pulls it up behind his neck, before doing the same with the other one, and Michael instinctively locks his fingers together. “-put your hands here. And I put mine here,” he says as he places his hands on Michael’s hips, voice low, “then you just go with it.” 

Luke manoeuvres the two of them onto the dance floor, and as much as Michael hates dancing, he hates the thought of not having his hands on Luke even more. They sway slowly together, even though the music is thumping and around them people are jumping and shouting. But Luke doesn’t seem to care, slowing their pace down even more and pulling Michael closer against him. Luke leans down and whispers “fun, right?” into Michael’s ear and Michael’s knees go a little weak when he feels Luke’s hot breath tickle the shell of his ear.

Luke doesn’t move his head away, his forehead resting against Michael’s, and Michael can’t help but run his fingers through the short hair at the base of Luke’s skull. Luke hums a little, and Michael doesn’t think he’s ever been this intimate with any of his exes, never mind someone he met fifteen minutes ago in a filthy night club. Luke’s eyes are insanely bright, and Michael can’t stop staring into them, his heart rate increasing so much he’s surprised he can still breathe.

Luke’s hands slide from his hips and meet in the small of Michael’s back, and Michael allows himself to be pulled in even closer. He can’t take his eyes off Luke’s face, going from his bright eyes to his plump lips and then back to his eyes again. Something black catches his eye, and when he inspects it he notices the ring Luke has through his lip.

He can’t look away from Luke’s lips, watches as Luke’s tongue peeks out to moisten his bottom lip, his top teeth then messing with his lip ring. Michael wonders what it would be like to play with the little bit of metal, what noises Luke would make if he tugged on it, and then shakes his head to get rid of those images because he does not need them right now.

“Uh,” Luke starts, pulling Michael from his thoughts. “D’you know those two?” Michael follows the direction of Luke’s eyes and spots Calum and Ashton not too far away with smug smirks on their face, and when they see Michael looking, they start making kissy faces. Michael can feel his face turning bright red.

“No. Definitely not,” he says, tightening his hands behind Luke’s neck.

“You sure? They seem to know you,” Luke answers with a little laugh.

“They’re idiots,” Michael says. “Ignore them and they’ll go away.”

Luke laughs again, and Michael can feel it reverberate through Luke’s chest into his own. He hears the dj make some announcement about how he’s only got a few songs left, and when the music starts up again it’s slow. Michael doesn’t recognise the song, but Luke does, singing along quietly.

Luke’s voice is nice, and Michael can’t help but be drawn in. Luke sings quietly, like it’s just for Michael, resting his cheek on the top of Michael’s head and murmuring the lyrics softly into his hair. They stay like that until the song ends, swaying softly, and when it does finish (way too soon if Michael is being honest with himself), Michael is more disappointed than he’d like to admit. The dance music comes back on, people starting to jump around again after having those few minutes to recuperate and get their energy back.

More and more people are making their way to the dance floor, presumably because the dj is finishing and they want to get in the last dance. Twenty five minutes ago, Michael would have been delighted with this, grabbing Calum and Ashton and heading home, but now he knows his time with Luke is running out and now the idea of going home alone makes him feel a little sick.

When he pulls his eyes up from Luke’s chest, Luke is already looking down at him, something almost hungry in his eyes. Michael buckles a little under the intensity of his stare, and before he can really comprehend what’s happening, Luke’s mouth is on his own, soft and warm, and Michael instinctively tightens his hands in Luke’s hair, keeping their heads close together.

He’s not sure how long they stand there in the middle of the dance floor, but he knows it isn’t nearly long enough. He’s a little embarrassed of the noise he makes when Luke stops kissing him, but Luke’s eyes are blown and glassy, and Michael just wants him so damn bad.

 “My apartment is fifteen minutes away,” Michael breathes out, chasing Luke’s lips with his own, gut clenching with the moan Luke let’s slip out.

“Yeah,” Luke says, tightening his grip on Michael’s waist. “God, yeah.”

***

He hates himself a little the next morning when he wakes and his head is pounding, his mouth like sandpaper. The sunlight is streaming in through his open curtains, hurting his eyes and sending death rays into his brain. He needs water but he’ll be damned if he’s getting out from his blanket nest.

So he rolls over, hoping that burying his face in a pillow and getting comfortable will make his thirst go away so he doesn’t have to leave his bed until his hangover is gone. When he lands on the other side of the bed, he notices it’s still warm, and his face scrunches up in confusion when he smells cologne that is definitely not his on the pillow.

And then it dawns on him. The guy from the bar. Luke.

He sits upright, rubbing the crusty sleep out of the corner of his eyes and scanning the room, almost expecting Luke to be crouched in the corner or something. But there’s no sign of him, the only reminder that he even went home with Michael the still warm sheets and hint of cologne.

He throws himself back on to the mattress with a groan, wincing when it sends a new wave of pain through his skull. He’s a little happy that he doesn’t have to deal with the awkward morning after, but a little sad that Luke just left. He shoves this thought to the back of his mind as he reaches his arm out to grab his phone off the bedside table, and when his fingers brush across the smooth surface, they catch on a slip of paper. He grabs it, holds it close to his face to make out the messy cursive scrawled across the back of a take-out receipt.

“got a cab. thanks for a great night. Luke x”

He ignores the feeling in his gut when he sees there’s no number written underneath.

He puts the note back on the dresser and grabs his phone, sees that it’s nearly 11. Way too early for him to be awake after a night out. He also has about fifteen messages from Calum, but after reading “ayy, you scored, he was cute”, “use protection”, and “don’t break anything”  he doesn’t even need to read the rest of them to know what they say.

He locks his phone, pulls the duvet up to his chin, and goes back to sleep.

***

Four hours later, he’s sitting on a stool at the counter in Ashton and Calum’s kitchen swirling from left to right, and waiting for the pancakes Calum has sizzling on the pan.

“That’s impressive,” Ashton says, pressing his thumb against one of the purple marks blooming on the side of Michael’s neck. Michael just swats his hand away, accepting the plate of pancakes Calum is sliding over the worktop.

After giving a plate to Ashton, Calum grabs his own and joins the other two at the breakfast bar. “So, spill,” he says, shoving half a pancake into his mouth. “What was he like?”

“Sweetheart, don’t talk with food in your mouth,” Ashton says, pulling a napkin from the little dispenser shaped like a jukebox and handing it to Calum. Michael thinks the dispenser is the ugliest thing he’s ever seen, and secretly Calum agrees, but Ashton fell in love with it in Target, and Calum would probably let Ashton decorate the apartment with all that tacky decor if that’s what makes him happy.

Calum makes a show of swallowing loudly, opening his empty mouth to show Ashton, and says, “Seriously. He was hot. Question is, was he any good in bed?”

“Was he hotter than me?” Ashton asks, small pout on his lips, nudging Calum with his elbow making him drizzle maple syrup over the edge of his plate and on to the countertop, earning a sigh from Calum.

“Definitely not,” Calum answers, and Michael says “so much hotter” at the same time.

“It’s about time you got laid, bro.” Ashton says as he starts cutting his pancakes into reasonably sized chunks.

“Hey, shut up,” Michael says, pointing his fork at Ashton. “I get laid plenty. We all don’t have someone willing to bend over for us when we get a little flustered after watching Juan on Cake Boss.” Calum laughs, and Ashton just kicks Michael’s shin under the table.

“He’s fucking hot.” Ashton argues, which only sets Calum off giggling again.

“You still haven’t told us anything,” Calum says, eyes meeting Michael’s. “What was his name? Or were you too busy to find out?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.  

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes before answering. “Luke,” he says, pouring more syrup onto his pancakes. Both he and Calum have been on the receiving end of the rant that Ashton has prepared about how much sugar is in syrup and how bad it is for you way too often, and Calum can see Ashton eyeing the amount Michael has on his plate and taking in a breath to berate him, so Calum asks Michael more questions to keep Ashton quiet. He’s not in the mood to deal with both of them bickering.

“You gonna see him again?” He asks, and he can see the disgust etched onto Ashton’s face as he watches Michael mop up syrup with a bit of pancake that is already dripping with the stuff.

“Nope. He left before I woke up. Didn’t even leave a number.” Michael keeps his eyes on his pancakes, afraid Calum will be able to see the disappointment he knows is there. Usually, he’s glad when the one night stands are gone before he wakes, leaving the house because they both know what they are to each other, a fuck.

But Michael thought Luke would have stayed around, or at least left a number to be contacted on. He never feels like this after a one night stand, usually happy after picking someone up and having awesome sex with no strings attached , but this time he just feels empty. He thought with the way they were in the club, the closeness, the singing, that kiss...well, it doesn’t even matter now, because Luke is gone.

He looks over at Calum and Ashton as Ashton takes a bite from a fork Calum is holding for him, and he feels a little more lonely. He envies them, he always did. Even before they were a couple, they were a thing. Getting all flustered around each other, always touching in some small way. And Michael will never forget the night Calum cried in his bed, clinging to Michael like he was the only thing keeping him together, because he walked in on Ashton having sex with some girl at a house party. Michael wishes he had someone like that, someone that just knows him inside out, knows how to make him feel better, how to make him feel loved.

He’s not even sure where this sudden brooding came from. A couple of months ago, the thought of being in a long term relationship made him shiver, but then Calum and Ashton moved in together and dragged him along to shop for appliances and bed linen. And when they were walking around Target, showing each other toasters and glasses, Ashton inspecting things over Calum’s shoulder and kissing his temple every now and then, Michael just wanted it.

“That’s rough, man. Was he worth it?” Calum asks, and Ashton whacks his arm, hissing something like “that’s private, Calum”, before rubbing syrup off Calum’s chin with his thumb.

Michael just smiles over his glass of orange juice at them. “He was, actually. Considerate, you know? Liked teeth.”

“We can see that,” Ashton says, his gaze landing on the mark on Michael’s neck, a smirk on his lips. “You know,” Ashton says, pouring more juice into his glass. “There’s this guy I work with, Ben, and he’s real cute. He moved from Brisbane like three weeks ago. Want me to set you up?”

Michael just shakes his head, forking the syrup remaining on his plate into his mouth. Ashton would have a fit if he just licked it off. “No. Thanks though, but after the last date, I’m never letting you set me up again.”

“Nick was awesome, not my fault you couldn’t appreciate him. He’s the best radiologist in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I know. He told me so when he dragged me to the hospital to give me an x-ray.”

“You’re so ungrateful,” Ashton grumbles, taking their empty plates to dump them in the sink. “Those things are expensive and he gave you one for free.”

“You still slept with him, though.” Calum points out, finishing off his coffee.

“Well, yeah. His idea of what constitutes as foreplay was a little strange, but once the x-ray pictures developed he couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

“Stop right there,” Ashton says. “I still work with the man. I don’t need to know what nasty shit you got up to in the bedroom.”

“Technically, it wasn’t in the bedroom. I mean, as soon as he saw how good my ribs looked-” He doesn’t get to finish what he was about to say, however, as he’s hit with one of the left over pancakes.

“Do not finish that sentence.” Ashton warns, and Calum is doubled over laughing.

“You kind of deserved that,” He wheezes out between breaths.

***

The good thing about being back in college is that Michael only has to go in Mondays through Wednesdays, meaning he gets a four day weekend. The bad thing about this is that people think that means he has nothing but free time and is therefore able to do whatever they need the second they ask.

It’s 8am on a Friday, and he set his alarm so he’d wake up and finish his essay. So naturally, he’s lying on his couch, eating fruit loops from the box and watching old Digimon reruns, staring at his closed laptop and wishing the essay would finish itself.

Alex, his roommate, is messing around in the kitchen with the coffee pot, cursing the “damned fucking piece of garbage” for not working. The rain is pelting heavily against the windows, and Michael’s just glad he doesn’t have to leave his apartment and trek to college. Alex isn’t as lucky.

“Seriously,” Alex starts, placing his travel mug on the coffee table in front of Michael before sitting down to pull on his boots. “How did you manage to only have three days of classes? This is bullshit.” Michael just smiles at him and shoves a fistful of fruit loops into his mouth. Alex curses again, firing a cushion at Michael before standing up and walking towards the door.

“Try not to get too wet!” Michael shouts after him, laughing when Alex gives him the finger, and snuggles down onto the couch, pulling the throw draped over the back of it down to cover himself.

And that’s how he intended to spend his morning – warm, comfortable and dry, wearing his old ratty sweatpants and Metallica shirt that has seen better days. But halfway through his third episode of Digimon, his phone rings. He considers ignoring it and letting it go to voicemail, but the caller ID tells him it’s his aunt, and he panics a little bit because she never calls unless something is wrong.

He taps answer, and before he even has “Hello” spoken, his aunt is shouting down the phone “Michael! Michael is that you?”

“Yeah,” he answers, trying to get a bit of fruit loop from between his teeth with his tongue.

“Are you busy?” she asks, and in the background Michael can hear a lot of shouting and banging.

“Not really, just doing an essay for college.” He looks at Digimon still playing on the screen and the now empty fruit loops box and can almost feel them judging him.

“Oh, okay, sorry I bothered you,” Helen says, and she sounds a little worn out and Michael feels bad.

“No, it’s cool aunt Helen, I was about to take a break anyway. What’s up?”

“Can I ask you to do a favour?” He knew it.

“Shoot.”

“Well, I got called into work for nine, and Max’s day-care doesn’t start ‘til half nine.” She must cover the receiver with her hand because there’s a crash and then a muffled “Sweetie, I told you not to touch that!”. Michael sits and waits for her to come back to the phone. “If I drop him round at yours, could you mind him for the half an hour and then leave him to day-care?” Michael looks out the window at the rain that’s bouncing off the ground because it’s hitting it that hard, and then at his closed laptop that makes him feel guilty because he’s been awake forty minutes and hasn’t done any work. He supposes another hour won’t hurt.

“Sure,” he says, standing up and walking to his bedroom to get dressed. “Drop him round whenever.”

“You’re a life saver, Michael.” Helen says before she hangs up, and Michael curses under his breath as he replaces his comfortable sweats with jeans.

***

Michael’s terrible with kids. Even kids that are related to him. Since Helen shoved Max into Michael’s apartment with his rucksack, booster seat and the address of his day-care scribbled on a scrap of paper, Max has stood in the hallway, refusing to leave. He stared for a solid five minutes at Michael’s purple hair, not blinking once, and Michael never thought a four year old could make him feel so damn self conscious.

“Do you want a pop tart?” He asks, and the kid just shakes his head. “Juice?” Max shakes his head again. “Anything?” Another head shake. Michael gives up. “Well, we gotta leave in- Christ- half an hour.”

Max just blinks, and Michael grabs his wrist and takes him into the sitting room where the cartoons are on the television. Max perches himself on the edge of the sofa, grasping his little backpack in his hands.

***

“Evil fucking bastard thing!” Michael groans, trying to get the booster secure into the back of the car. It’s already twenty five to ten, and Max is sitting on the unoccupied back seat, watching Michael struggle with the seat as his bottom half gets soaked from the rain. When Michael remembers he’s there, he scolds himself for cursing and says “I mean silly booster.” If the kid starts cursing, Michael knows his own life will be cut very short.

“Are we late?” Max asks, and Michael is so surprised to hear him speak that he jumps a little and hits his head off the ceiling of the car.

“No, no, we’re right on time. Just gotta get the seat in.” And he’s not sure how, but there’s a click, and he shakes at the booster and it doesn’t budge. He decides it’ll do. “Hop in.”

It takes another five minutes for him to figure out how to buckle Max in, and by now he’s almost fifteen minutes late, and he’s not even 100% certain where he’s supposed to be taking the kid.

But he manages to find it – it’s in the little rec centre in the middle of town – and by the time he gets there, the parking lot is empty. He curses under his breath when realises he’s gonna have to walk Max in, and pulls his hood up before climbing out of the car and going round the back to get Max.

For the five seconds he was outside, he’s drenched. His wet fringe is plastered against his forehead and he knows his face is bright red, but he grips Max’s little hand in his own, asks him where the classroom is, and heads in the direction Max points, the rubber soles of his converse squeaking on the linoleum floor.

The room is easy enough to spot. The door is bright yellow and decorated with drawings obviously done by the kids and he can hear singing coming from the other side. He considers knocking on the door, leaving Max outside it and running so he won’t have to deal with whoever’s in charge, but when Helen picks him up they’ll no doubt question her, and then she’ll kill him for abandoning her child.

So he knocks, Max already starting to pull his coat off, when the door swings open and a woman is standing in the open doorway, obviously confused by the soaking purple haired man, who’s dripping onto the floor.

“Can I help you?” she asks, and Michael doesn’t miss the sceptical look that crosses her face. He shoves Max at her, as a way of explaining why he’s here, and when she sees him she smiles fondly down at him.

“Uh,” Michael starts, “his mom is working and I didn’t know where he was supposed to go. Sorry he’s late.” He can feel his face heat up. He was never good with adults – even though he is one – and this woman screams ‘authority’. He thinks it might come from the fact that she has to keep twenty or so toddlers in check. But he’s nearly twenty four and he’s a little afraid of her.

“It’s okay, we haven’t started class. We were just sorting out coats and lunchboxes.” She holds her hand out for Max’s coat and bag, and Max peeks into the classroom behind her, scanning the room.

“Is Luke here?” Max asks, his big eyes meeting his teacher’s and she nods and he just says “bye Michael” over his shoulder before he bounds into the room. Michael just stands and watches him go, feeling awkward. He doesn’t know what the right etiquette for drop off is, so he just starts backing away and gives the woman a little wave.

“See you,” he says, before turning and sprinting out of the building. He can feel her eyes on the back of his head, and he’s a little relieved when he makes it back to his car.

The rain hasn’t let up since that morning, and by the time he makes it back to his flat, he has to shower to get warm. While he’s waiting on his cheese toastie to heat up, he unlocks his phone to see a text from Helen.

From: Helen (12:45)

Sorry, Michael. Held up at work. Any chance you could pick Max up from day-care at 2?

Michael groans before typing out “Yeah, no problem.”        

***

At five past two, Michael finds himself standing outside the yellow door again, the singing replaced by the chatter of kids excited to be going home. He’s about to knock when the door swings open and the same woman from this morning is standing there, looking a little less put together than she did earlier, paint smeared across the front of her t-shirt, a little bit on her cheek.

“Hey,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m here for Max.” It sounds more like a question than a statement, and he just wants the ground to swallow him whole because she’s giving him that look again.

“Helen rang and told me you would be picking him up. Come on in, he’s just gathering his stuff.” Michael wants to protest and say that he’ll be fine waiting outside until Max is ready, but the woman is already heading back into the classroom, the door remaining open, and Michael really has no choice but to follow her.

The room is so bright and colourful Michael almost has to squint. There are drawings and posters covering every inch of the wall, and the little desks only come up to Michael’s knees. He feels so out of place it’s actually painful. He can’t spot Max anywhere – there are too many kids running around – and he swears in that moment he’s never doing anything for anyone ever again because this is too damn awkward.

And then he sees Max’s familiar head of curly blond hair making his way over towards him, frown on his face when he sees Helen isn’t there to pick him up.

“Where’s mommy?” Max asks when he’s close enough for Michael to hear.

“She’s at work, so you get to spend some time with me.” Max doesn’t look happy, and Michael feels more than a little insulted. He knows he hasn’t seen the kid much, but he doesn’t think he’s that bad with him. Well, at least he didn’t think that until now.

“Have you got your coat?” Michael asks. “Pokémon – I mean uh... the news is on in fifteen minutes and I wanna be home to watch it.” He scans the room to see if any of the adults might have heard him, but there’s no one over the age of five close enough. He sighs a little in relief.

Max just stares at him, and Michael holds his hand out for Max to take, and they’re almost at the door, almost free when Michael hears someone calling for Max. And it takes him a second to realise that he knows that voice, he’s just not sure how he knows it.

“Max, dude, hang on! You forgot your lunch box!”

Max turns around, and so does Michael. Oh my God, he thinks, then says “Oh my God.”

Because standing in front of him, looking like a deer caught in head lights, is Luke. His Luke.

He wasn’t expecting to feel so much when he saw Luke again, a mixture of embarrassment and something else he cannot place, definitely not. But all he can think about is the slip of paper with only a name, the kiss, the sex. The marks on his neck have faded, along with the hint of Luke’s cologne on his sheets, so he thought he’d finally be able to forget about him. But now he’s standing right in front of Michael, looking even prettier when there’s no alcohol or sex clouding Michael’s brain.

“Oh my God,” Luke repeats, and the two of them stand staring at each other, completely speechless. Max walks forward, takes his lunchbox from Luke’s hand and murmurs “thanks”, almost pulling Luke from his daze because he starts opening and closing his mouth, like he wants to say something but the words just won’t come out.

“Uhm, hi?” Luke finally manages to croak out, and Michael wishes he could have had the awkward morning after instead of this, because as awkward as the awkward morning afters are, this is just painful.

“Hey again,” Michael says, and gives a small wave, and then cringes because why is he such an idiot goddamnit? He drops his hand down to his side and even that feels wrong, so he just shoves it into his pocket.

“How’ve you uh.... how’ve you been?” Luke asks, and Michael knows he’s only doing it to be polite, but this little rendez-vous needs to end soon because if it doesn’t he’s pretty sure he will actually die from embarrassment. So he decides if Luke isn’t going to cut it short then he is.

“I’ve been good, and I hope you’ve been too, but I gotta get this one home to his mom, so I’ll see you around?” He says as he starts heading in the direction of the door.

“You said mom was at work,” Max pipes up. Luke is staring at him, a smirk on his lips, and Michael literally wants to burst into flames or something.

He forces out a laugh and it sounds crazy, even to him. “Kids huh?” he says, pushing Max towards the door. “They say the funniest things....”

And then he’s out the door, shouting “bye” over his shoulder and pulling Max to the car so fast he’s not even sure if the kid’s feet are touching the ground, leaving Luke standing open mouthed behind him.

***

Michael walks into Calum and Ashton’s bedroom and throws himself facedown onto their bed, groaning and feeling a little sorry for himself.

“What’s eating ya?” Calum asks, towel hanging low on his hips as he rummages through his closet for something to wear, pulling out button up shirts, inspecting them and then throwing them onto the bed at Michael’s feet.

Michael groans again, burying his face further into the comforter.

“You’re so melodramatic Michael.”

“My life is just one big joke. I’m sure of it. Some higher power has decided that they want a laugh and that causing me pain and misery is the way to go about it.”

“Mhm,” Calum agrees, spinning to look at Michael and holding a shirt up. “What do you think of this?”

“It’s disgusting.”

“Michael...”

“It’s beautiful, jeez. What’s the occasion?”

Calum’s face cracks into a big grin, and Michael is a little afraid his face is actually going to split. “Going out with Ash for our anniversary. He’s taking me out to this fancy ass restaurant so I have to look good.”

“You always look good,” Ashton says from where he’s standing against the door jamb, obviously staring at Calum’s stripped torso. Michael makes retching sounds from where he’s still sprawled on the bed.

“How was work?” Calum asks, kissing Ashton’s cheek. “Those scrubs are hot on you.”

“Mmm,” Ashton answers, pulling Calum into him again. “Not as hot as you in the-”

“Okay guys!” Michael interjects, voice muffled by the duvet. “I’m right here.” Michael feels something hit the back of his head, and when he lifts his head he can see Ashton’s balled up work shirt on the pillow beside him.

“And why are you in my bed?” Ashton asks.

“You’ve always wanted me in your bed, Irwin.” Michael deadpans.

Calum slams his closet doors shut. “He’s here because the universe hates him.” Michael groans to emphasise Calum’s point.

“What band broke up this time?” Michael takes his face out of the duvet long enough to glare at Ashton.

“Seriously, what is it?” Calum asks, sitting down beside Michael and running his hands through his hair. Michael doesn’t know what he’d do without Calum, he really doesn’t. “What’s wrong?”

Michael doesn’t know how to answer. He wants them to know all about his morning without actually having to tell them, because speaking it out loud will make it a lot more real and a lot more embarrassing. So he just settles with muttering “Luke” and hoping that tells them enough.

 “Who?”  Calum asks.

Michael rolls onto his back, towards Calum, and Calum moves his hand from Michael’s hair to his arm. “Luke.”

“That guy from the bar? The one you slept with?”Ashton asks, as he looks for clothes for himself. Michael nods. “Well, what about him?”

“I ran into him today when I was dropping my cousin Max off at day care, and it was literally the most painful two minutes of my life. I mean, it was so awkward. And I told him I had to leave to get Max home to his mom, and then Max told him I was lying because his mom was at work and he was just smirking at me and I hate my life.” He covers his face with his hands and can actually feel the heat radiating off of it because of how hard he’s blushing. The bedroom is silent for a few seconds, before it’s filled with the sound of Calum and Ashton laughing.

“It’s not fucking funny!” he laughs. “You guys are such shitty best friends.” He doesn’t really mean that, and they know it, but he felt they should be told how shitty they’re being anyway.

“What happened?” Ashton asks, pulling a towel out of somewhere and throwing it over his shoulder. “Did you guys talk?”

Michael lifts his head to stare disbelievingly at Ashton. “What do you say to a stranger you had sex with ? While you’re both standing in a room full of four year olds? ‘Thanks for a great fuck, I’m gonna leave now and hopefully never see you or your fucking glorious ass ever again. Take care.’?”

“Your language is horrendous,” Ashton mutters before heading to presumably shower.

Michael just snuggles back down onto the bed, lying on his side, and he could so easily fall asleep and just forget about the whole thing for a little while. He’s so embarrassed his stomach is actually sore.

“You like him,” Calum says out of nowhere, making Michael jump a little.

“What are you talking about, Hood?”

“This Luke guy. You like him.”  

“No, I don’t!” Michael argues, but can’t help thinking that he maybe does. A little bit. But Calum does not need to know that. He just can’t stop thinking of how they were before they went back to Michael’s apartment, how it felt like so much more than just a one night thing because the whole time they were in bed Luke was whispering sweet nothings in his ear and held him close after they had finished, made him feel needed.

“Then why do you care so much about running into him? I’m sure it’s not the first time you ran into someone you had sex with.”

“Shut up.” Michael says, then he realises he probably just proved Calum right.

***

He’s watching some nature show that Steve Irwin was in, eating fried chicken straight out of the KFC bucket and texting Calum to complain about how alone he is. Even Alex is out with some girl from his literature class and Michael just wants to wallow in his own self pity.

He could get dressed, go out and get someone to go home with him, but he thinks that would just make him feel even shittier in the morning, so he decides against it, hoping Alex comes home soon so they can watch some terrible Hollywood b-movie and he can fall asleep on Alex’s shoulder and feel less alone.

He rips the skin off the chicken and pops in into his mouth, staring at Steve Irwin wrestle with a crocodile, wishing he had someone to watch Steve Irwin wrestle a crocodile with.

***

“Kevin.” Ashton says, sitting down on the sofa beside Michael.

“No, Ash. I’m Michael.” Ashton just shakes his head.

“Babe, he’s not gonna agree to it.” Calum says, walking into the sitting room with a cup of coffee and ruffling Ashton’s hair as he walks past to sit in one of the armchairs.

“Kevin’s a nurse at the hospital. Really sweet, great hair. Nice ass, too.” Calum coughs, and Ashton mumbles ‘sorry’ before continuing. “Anyway. He’s single, you’re single. He agreed to go on a date with you this Friday night. He finishes work at 7:30, said he’ll pick you up at 8.”

Michael just stares at Ashton, not even answering because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what will come out of it. Right now it’s a close call between a scream and a long string of profanities. He sees what Ashton is trying to do, and he’s glad he has a friend that wants to help, but unless Ashton can turn back time and have him meet Luke in a way that doesn’t make him turn into a bumbling idiot when he sees him, well then he’s not helping all that much.

“I told you,” Calum says, blowing on his coffee to cool it down.

“He complains all the time that he can’t find anyone to date, and Kevin’s nice.”

“I don’t think he meant for you to scope out every gay man who works at the hospital and ask them on a date for him.” Calum says, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m hardly going to ask the straight men out for him.” Ashton grumbles, lying back against the sofa and crossing his arms across his chest.

Michael decides this is a good enough time to jump back into the conversation. “I don’t want you to ask anyone out for me,” he says, grabbing a cookie from the plate on the coffee table.

“Because you’re so good at doing that yourself.”

***

Michael hates to admit it, but Kevin is nice. And he hasn’t asked Michael to go back to the hospital for tests with him so it’s already shaping up to be a better date than the last one Ashton set him up on.

Kevin picked him up at eight, like he said he would. Michael felt a little underdressed in his ripped jeans and black button down when he answered the door to see Kevin dressed smartly in black pants and a white shirt. He’s not sure why Ashton thinks they’re going to work, but he’ll give it a shot – get some food, maybe even a handjob and tell Kevin it’s not you it’s me before kicking him out of his apartment.

Michael’s hands start sweating when he sees the restaurant that Kevin is pulling into. It’s fancy, really fancy, and Michael can’t help but feel the twenty eight dollars he has in his pocket isn’t going to cover it. He should have known when he saw Kevin’s pants that the local pizza joint was not where this date was going to take place.

“Hope this restaurant is okay for you,” Kevin says, smiling and squeezing Michael’s knee. Michael resists the urge to shove Kevin’s hand off him, and settles for squeezing the seat. “It’s my favourite place to eat, so I thought I’d take you here.”  Michael just smiles and nods his head. When they get out of the car he tries to flatten down his hair and double checks his money. He nearly cries when he realises he only has twenty six dollars.

***

“So,” Kevin says, spreading some sort of pate onto stale bread. Michael passed on the starters. “Ashton tells me you went back to college. How come?” Michael hates this part of dates, the conversation neither of them care about. But he humours Kevin anyway, because he feels they have literally nothing in common, therefore nothing to talk about, so talking about college and work will at least cut down the time they’re inevitably going to spend in silence.

“Oh, well, I studied English Literature a few years ago, but I hated it and dropped out, got a job in target, hated that too, so decided to go back to college to do art.” And that’s it. That’s basically his life story. He takes a sip of his water and wishes Kevin would hurry up with his blended liver because he just wants to get out of here. The waiters don’t even try to not stare at his purple hair, and if someone else looks at him like he’s just chopped the head off a baby and started drinking it’s blood, he’s actually going to scream.

“Like art history?”

“Yeah,” Michael answers, messing with one of the six forks on the table. Why people need that many forks he will never know. “But I paint and draw and ... yeah. I uh.. I art.”

Kevin stalls, some paté halfway to his mouth and he smiles. It’s the most disgusting shade of  pink, and Michael eyes the forkful  with his face scrunched up in disgust. Kevin doesn’t seem to notice because he just asks “You art?”

“Mhmm.” Michael says, not really feeling like elaborating. “And what about you? Nurse? That’s quite a prestigious job.”

Michael regrets asking Kevin about his job, because for the remainder of his starter, all through the main course and dessert, and now through their drinks, he has not stopped talking about it. Michael doesn’t mind when people talk about their jobs, or themselves and stuff like that, and he’s glad that Kevin has found his true calling or whatever, but no one, no one, wants to hear very descriptive nursing stories when they’re about to bite into their hamburger.

And he’s still nodding along, sipping at his whiskey and ‘ooh’ing when he deems the moment appropriate. He wants to be drunk, but he doesn’t have the money, and there’s hardly any point in sticking around because he definitely doesn’t want a handjob from this guy.

“Excuse me,” Michael says, cutting one of Kevin’s anecdotes short. “But I really need to use the bathroom.” He just stands up, doesn’t even wait for Kevin’s answer, and walks in the direction of the bathrooms. If Kevin wasn’t his ride home, he probably would have just left.

He gets into one of the bathroom stalls, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. He pulls out his phone, scrolls for Ashton’s number, and holds it to his ear, waiting for his call to be answered, lowering the toilet seat and sitting on top of it.

“’lo?” Ashton finally says after the seventh ring, mouth obviously full of food.

“What the fuck?” Michael growls down the phone. “Why do you hate me?”

“What are you talking about?” Ashton asks, and Michael throws his head back and groans. He hears someone else enter the bathroom, but doesn’t give a shit if they can hear him. He kind of wishes it’s Kevin so he’ll get the message and go home.

“My date.” Michael answers. “You set me up with the most boring person in the whole damn world.”

“That’s not fair, Kevin’s nice!”

“Yeah,” Michael grumbles. “He was particularly nice when he told me about some patient’s worms when I was eating my dinner.”

“He’s awkward, you’re awkward. I thought you would get along.”

“He’s been talking about the fucking hospital for about an hour and a half now. Does he even do anything else?”

“Dunno,” Ashton answers. “Never asked him any of that stuff.”

“Did you really just set him up with me because you’re running out of gay doctors to send my way?”

“Yes.”

“I hate you. I really do. And now I have to go back out there and listen to him ramble on about infections and whatever.” Michael presses two fingers against his temple and huffs out a breath. “Or you could come pick me up, considering you got me into this.”

“Don’t be so stupid.” Michael wishes there was a way to punch people through the phone. “Look, just go out there and enjoy bring with someone that isn’t me or Cal.”

“Or I could tell him I’m sick and ask him to take me home.” Michael says, and he decides that he’s going to do just that. And he’s going to lay on the sofa and watch Criminal Minds reruns in his pyjamas.

“Don’t do that. I work with him, don’t hurt him.”

“He’s hurting me, Ash. He’s so boring I can feel my body actually shutting down.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Ashton says before hanging up. Michael stands up, runs a hand through his hair and steps out of the stall.

He walks over to the sink and runs cool water over his hands, splashing it onto his face and gripping the basin of the sink, willing himself to go back out to his date. He registers the sound of the toilet flushing, but doesn’t pay any attention to the noise until the door of the only other stall is swinging open and a familiar silhouette steps out.

“Ah,” the person says, and Michael jerks his head up because no fucking way. “I thought I knew that voice.”

Luke is standing there, looking far too good in the sickly yellow bathroom light. Michael just stands with his mouth open as Luke washes his hands and uses one of the paper towels to dry them. He looks beautiful, Michael can’t help but think. His hair is styled perfectly (much, much different from how it looked after Michael had been running his fingers through it), and his button down fits his shoulders so snugly Michael thinks he might pass out or something.

“Are you stalking me?” Luke asks, slight laugh in his voice, as he walks past Michael to toss the paper towel in the trash can. Michael laughs, scratching at the back of his neck and trying to regulate his blood pressure.

“I could ask you the same thing,” and damn, it sounded much smoother and less dorky in his head. But Luke doesn’t seem to care, because he’s smiling at Michael and god he has dimples, of course he has.

“And what if I am stalking you?” Luke asks, leaning his hip against the edge of the sink.

“Then I’d call the police and stop taking creepy people home from night clubs.” Luke laughs and Michael decides that he loves the sound of it.

“Well, Michael, it was nice seeing you again but I suppose I better let you get back to your date.” Luke says, pushing himself into an upright position and straightening the hem of his shirt. Michael is about to ask “what date?” but then he remembers Kevin and he wants to cry.

“Oh God,” Michael just groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I have to go back out there.”

“That bad, huh?” Luke asks, putting a hand on Michael’s elbow and squeezing sympathetically.

Michael nods. “You have no idea. Maybe if I stay in here a little longer he’ll believe I’m sick and take me home.”

“Good plan.” Luke says with a small chuckle.

“And what about you? How’s your date going?” Michael’s stomach drops a little when the words leave his mouth and he realises it’s a very big possibility that Luke is here on a date with another person that he could fall in love with and marry and Michael is here with Kevin and he wants to scream a little. He knows he’s being dramatic, but Luke is too pretty and too sweet and he just wishes he had the balls to ask him out. But then he reasons that asking someone out while you’re on a date yourself isn’t really a great way to start a relationship.

“Oh, I’m not here on a date. My brother got a promotion at work and the family just wanted to celebrate.”

“Oh, man, that’s awesome!” Michael says, and he can’t fight the feeling of relief that washes through him. “Tell him I said congratulations. Or don’t, because he doesn’t know me. Or you know.... Nevermind.” He wants to slap himself because what the actual fuck?

But Luke isn’t looking at Michael like he’s the biggest idiot on the planet (which he kind of is), he’s smiling at him again, big and genuine. Michael has to leave before he does something stupid like kiss Luke or die or something.

“I have to uh.. I have to go now,” he says, gesturing to the door. “It was nice seeing you, Luke.”

“You too, Michael. Enjoy your date. Maybe we can-” but Michael is running out the door before Luke can even finish his sentence.

Luke just huffs out a breath and checks his hair in the mirror before walking out of the bathroom door and back into the crowded restaurant. And if he quickly scans the room for messy purple hair, well, no one has to know.

***

“Kevin said you blew him off.” Ashton say, stuffing his sandwiches into a lunchbox and filling his flask with coffee.

“I did not blow him off. I genuinely was sick.” Michael says, pushing his pasta around the plate with a fork. Calum sits at the other end of the breakfast bar with a smirk on his face. When his eyes meet Michael’s, Michael feels a little sick because he has those eyes that say I know something.   

“You know, I’d believe that if you hadn’t called me and said that you were going to pull a sicky so Kevin would take you home.”

“Whatever,” Michael mumbles, shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth. After walking out of the bathroom and leaving Luke behind, he did feel a little sick, so he wasn’t technically lying. He’s not sure why he’s so hung up on a guy he spent one night with, but it’s starting to really piss him off.

“I think this is the first time you’ve gone on a date that hasn’t ended in some form of sexual activity.” Calum muses as he flicks idly through some magazine.

“Second, actually.” Michael corrects, and it comes out a little more harsh than he intended.

“Why are you so pissy?” Ashton asks, slinging his satchel over his shoulder and grabbing his keys from the countertop. “Did something happen? Did Kevin-?”

“No, god no. Kevin was nice and all, just boring. And gross.” Michael shudders when he thinks of the stories Kevin thought appropriate for first date conversation. “I think it’s me. I think I’m just ..... romantically constipated or something.”

“Jesus Christ,” Calum huffs out and Ashton just stares at the ceiling before walking over to Calum and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?” Ashton says into Calum’s hair as Calum wraps his arms around his waist and holds him a little tighter.

“I guess,” Calum mumbles into Ashton’s chest, and Ashton rubs a hand up and down his back. Michael shifts a little in his seat because he always feels like he’s intruding on something when they get like this – all cuddly and clingy – and when Calum whines when Ashton has to pull away, Michael tries to look anywhere but at the two of them. It hurts

“I know it sucks, but I only have to work nights until Brenda comes back from maternity leave.” Ashton says as he grabs his lunch and shoves it in his satchel before slinging it over his shoulder. “ Love you, Cal. See ya, Mikey!” Ashton calls over his shoulder before heading out the door.

The kitchen is eerily silent after Ashton leaves, the only sounds the flipping of Calum’s magazine pages and the scrape of Michael’s fork against his plate. It’s Calum who breaks the silence, shoving the magazine away from himself and moving closer to Michael. “What is it?” he asks, voice low, and Michael doesn’t like it. It’s too serious.

“What’re you talking about?”

“What’s bugging you? You’ve been in a bad mood all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Michael mumbles, his eyes downcast. He knows Calum won’t believe him, and he won’t drop the subject until he finds out everything he wants to know. He’s the most stubborn person Michael has ever met. He thinks it’s the athlete in him that brings it out, along with his scary competitiveness. Pictionary isn’t even safe anymore.

“Don’t bullshit me, Clifford. I’ve known you for almost twenty years; I’ve gotten pretty good at telling when something is wrong. You can talk to me.” Calum throws his arm around Michael’s shoulders, who instinctively buries his face in the side of Calum’s neck. He likes how familiar it smells.

“It’s stupid,” Michael says. He knows Calum won’t judge him – if he stood by him with the 6 inch fringe and blonde highlights, well then he’s probably not going to go anywhere – but he still feels like an idiot admitting it out loud.

“I’m sure it’s not,” Calum says, tightening his hold on Michael just a little bit.

Michael takes a deep breath, and decides to tell. “It’s just ... you and Ashton.”

“Me and Ashton?” Calum asks, and he sounds a little confused and a little hurt.

“No, no, no,” Michael starts. “Like the way you guys are, I just, I want that. With someone that’s not you or Ash, obviously. I mean, not that you guys aren’t great or anything, because you both are, but I-”

“Mikey, shhh,” Calum says, spinning Michael around on the stool so he can pull him into a proper hug. “That’s not stupid. Not even a little. But that’s not all, is it?”

“It’s Luke, Cal.” Michael says, as he bunches his fist in the fabric of Calum’s tank top. “I don’t know why, but I just can’t get him out of my head.”  He wants to tell Calum everything – about the kiss and the sex, but he thinks that would be sharing too much. He takes a second to wonder of Luke has sex with everyone like that – like it meant something -, or if it was just Michael. Or if it was just the vodka. “And I saw him at the restaurant last night and I swear, the two minutes I spent with him were better than the two hours I spent with Kevin. And it’s scaring me a little, ‘cause I never felt like this about anyone, and I don’t mean anything to him. All I am is a fuck and I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I just wish we met differently, you know?”

Calum doesn’t say anything, just holds him, and Michael’s grateful because that’s all he really needs right now. He’s a little surprised when he pulls away from Calum’s chest and his face and Calum’s shirt are wet with tears.

“Wanna watch a movie and then stay over? I don’t really like sleeping alone, and Ashton’s working nights, so...” Michael nods and tries to rub at his eyes without Calum noticing.

***

He wakes to a firm, warm weight behind him, and the sound of whispering. His face is warm from the strip of sunlight that’s peeking in from the crack of the blinds. He’s still too asleep to hear what’s being said, but he feels it when Calum scoots even closer to him before the bed dips and someone else is sliding underneath the covers.

“Never thought I’d see the day Michael Clifford actually wants to settle down,” Ashton says as Calum buries himself in Ashton’s arms. “I mean, I knew he wanted someone, but I thought it was more of a sexual partner for convenience kind of thing.”

“Mmm,” Calum says, relishing in the feel of Ashton’s arms tight around him. “He was pretty beat up about it last night.”

“Maybe I could go to that pre-school and get Luke-”

“You will do no such thing. You need to stop meddling in people’s love lives.”

“I can’t help it. And I’m just trying make Mikey happy!” Ashton huffs.

“I know you are, but I think it might freak Luke out a bit if a complete stranger turns up at his workplace asking for his number to give to someone he had a one night stand with.” Ashton just hums in agreement before pulling Calum a little closer and going to sleep.

***

He hasn’t slept in 29 hours. His essay submission time is in 45 minutes, and he’s so close to finishing it that he can almost taste it. Looking back at the time he wasted doodling and avoiding all college work, he regrets leaving the essay to last minute.

With five minutes to spare, he hits the submit button and feels a wave of relief wash over him. He probably could have had the essay finished a month ago, and saved himself a lot of panicking, but whatever, it’s done. He grabs his phone off of the coffee table and switches it on to send a text to Calum.

            To: Calum (08:27)

            Last essay of the semester finished. Gonna sleep all day, we’re going out tonight.

It’s not too long before there’s a reply from Calum, telling him Ashton’s working, but he’ll still go out. Michael stretches out on the sofa, shutting his eyes, too tired to make it to his bedroom. And at least if he sleeps here, Alex will wake him up.

He’s on the edge of consciousness, just about to drift into sleep when his phone buzzes from the coffee table. He considers ignoring it – he’s far too comfortable and a little bit too dead to move. He’s not sure what makes him reach out and grab his phone, and when he reads the text he wants to cry.

            From: Helen (08:31)

            Mike, I’m so sorry. Called into work, can you please take Max to day-care?

He punches the pillow and takes a deep breath before typing out a ‘yes’ and shutting his eyes for the five minutes before Helen drops off the kid.

***

When Max saw Michael, he looked a little terrified. Michael doesn’t blame him. His hair is sticking out every which way, and he knows he’s got purple bags under his eyes, which probably wouldn’t look half as bad if he wasn’t so pale. He didn’t even change out of his sweatpants, just pulled a black hoody on, grabbed his car keys and started to put Max’s booster into the car. He looks like death, and feels even worse, his tired eyes scratching every time he blinks, but once the kids dropped off he’s gonna get a greasy bacon sub and then sleep. And if Helen needs someone to pick Max up, she’s gonna have to find someone else because Michael will probably be comatose.

Soon enough he finds himself walking towards the yellow door, Max in step beside him. He’s already prepared himself for the look he knows he’s going to get from Max’s teacher, the blonde woman who makes him feel like a four year old who did something wrong.

What he hadn’t prepared for was Luke to swing open the door, smile down at Max before finally looking at Michael. Michael wants to scream because in his sleep deprived state he completely forgot Luke worked here and of course he would be the one to open the door when Michael looks like he’s coming down from some sort of substance induced high. But Michael’s gotta give it to him, he composes himself quickly, saying hello to Max before ushering him into the classroom before turning back to Michael.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and Michael can hear the worry in his voice. It makes him feel a little funny. “You look wrecked.”

“I’m fine,” Michael says, smiling to show how fine he is. “Just tired. College paper due this morning.”

Luke’s face cracks into a grin then, and he nods. “Tell me about it. You’re free now?”

Michael is confused, but nods and croaks out a “yeah” which has Luke smiling again. “Why?”

“You look like you need a coffee.” And Luke turns and walks back into the classroom, the door remaining open, and Michael feels a little insulted because alright, rude. He knows he looks like shit; he does not need pretty blond haired boys telling him so.

So he turns on his heel, heading back to his car and thinking of his bacon sub. He’s almost at the end of the long corridor when he hears heavy footsteps and someone shouting his name. For a second he panics and tries to remember anything he may have done wrong, but then he realises the person calling him is Luke, and he turns to see said boy jogging after him, now wearing a beanie and an old leather jacket.

“Why’d you take off?” Luke asks, when he catches up with Michael.

“Because you went back into the classroom and I assumed our conversation was over?”

Luke laughs, straightening his beanie. Michael can’t stop looking at the soft little curls that poke out from underneath it. “I just went back in to get my wallet and tell mom I was leaving for a little while.”

And Michael is really confused now. “What?” he asks.

“My mom. She runs the day-care, and I help out sometimes. I went back to get my wallet so I can pay for the coffee I offered you.”

Michael’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What?” he asks again.

“What bit of this are you not getting? How much sleep did you get last night?”

“None,” Michael answers as nonchalantly as he can while the butterflies in his stomach are doing somersaults.

***

So that’s how Michael finds himself half dead and looking like absolute shit sitting across from an energetic and far too attractive Luke in a crowded coffee shop he didn’t even know existed at 10am on a Friday morning. He kind of wishes Luke had let him go home and at least put on a pair of jeans or run a brush through his hair, but Luke insisted he looked fine.

He doesn’t feel fine, because this isn’t one of the campus coffee shops where they’re used to seeing broke students milling in and out in all states of dress. By no means is this coffee shop extravagantly fancy, but they do have their name embossed on the little saucers and more than one person in a suit has passed through the door since Michael and Luke sat down. But the coffee is totally worth it.

“Feel any better with caffeine in your system?” Luke asks, blowing on his coffee before dunking his cookie in. Michael can’t help but be endeared.

“Loads,” He says, and he’s not even being sarcastic. He sips at his own coffee, and just watches the people around him. A lot of them look like they’re on a coffee break from work, dressed fancy and proper, and more of them look like Luke – just dropping in for a cup of coffee before continuing with their day.

“What was the essay on? The one you had to submit today?” Luke asks, and he sounds genuinely interested, which Michael finds refreshing. Most people ask about college because they feel they need to or to fill awkward silences. Luke sounds like actually wants to know what’s going on in Michael’s life.

“It’s kind of a summary of one of my own paintings. Like, we have to say what materials and techniques we used, and then the inspiration behind it and stuff.” Luke’s eyes light up and he puts the uneaten half of his cookie back onto his plate.

“You’re an artist?” he asks.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I try,” Michael says, suddenly feeling embarrassed and awkward. “My parents wanted me to do Literature or Law or something, but that’s just – I couldn’t finish my first course. Had to drop out. My friend Calum is the one who pushed me to get back into art.”

“I’m glad that you’re doing something that makes you happy now,” Luke says, and it sounds legitimate. “Plus, you look like an artist.”

Michael chuckles, stirring his coffee and sucking the foam off the spoon. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s the hair. And the demeanour. I never would have pinned you as a lawyer. Definitely an artist. Or a photographer or a poet or something along those lines. Creative, and bold.”

Michael can feel the blush spreading over his cheeks, and he has to cough to clear his throat, trying to get rid of the lump that seems to be forming there. “And you?” Michael asks when he manages to get his voice back. “Are you in college?”

“Yeah, in my third year. I’m hoping to get the qualifications to be a social worker, you know? Like, help kids find homes – proper homes with people who’ll look after them like they deserve.”

Michael’s heart swells a little bit, and he’s having a hard time believing that Luke is a real person because he’s just too good. “You must like working with kids, you know, helping your mom with the day-care.”

“Yeah, I wish my classes let me help more than once or twice a week, but it’ll look good alongside my qualifications, so I’ll take what I can get.”

They don’t say anything after that, just sit and finish off their coffee before it gets too cold. And the silence isn’t as awkward or uncomfortable as it should be. Every so often Michael will catch Luke’s eye over the rim of his mug, and it’s so cliché, but Michael can’t help but smile every time it happens.

Neither of them bring up the fact that they’ve already slept together, and Michael is more than happy about that. Because when he does think about it he’s reminded that Luke left without leaving a number – just a name on a slip of paper. He wonders what changed; what made Luke decide to give him a chance? If that’s what Luke is even doing, because buying someone a coffee and a Danish pastry is kind of like giving them a chance. It’s confusing as hell and Michael wants one of them to come out and say what this – if there is a this - is. And he wants that one to be Luke because he knows he won’t be able to do it. He also wants an advil or something.

But Luke keeps smiling at him, asking him questions about his life and listening when Michael answers, and then Michael spots a Green Day armband sticking out from underneath Luke’s sleeve, and he decides then that he’s so gone on Luke it’s embarrassing. And he doesn’t even know his last name.

He leaves the coffee shop forty five minutes later with a smile on his face and Luke’s number in his phone.

***

He stops by the sandwich shop on the way to Calum and Ashton’s and grabs three bacon subs before letting himself into their apartment with the key they gave him. (It’s for emergencies, but this is an emergency – the bacon is getting cold.) He knows Ashton was working last night, and it’s nearly one pm, so maybe a nice breakfast (lunch? whatever) will cheer him up. Michael’s feeling good since his coffee with Luke, and he never did thank Ashton for getting him all those dates. Even though most of them were train wrecks. But whatever.

He announces his arrival with a loud “Hey, it’s me” before depositing the bag of food on the kitchen counter and heading towards Calum and Ashton’s room. He’s a little surprised that Calum isn’t awake and milling about yet, but doesn’t give it much more thought as he pushes open the door to the bedroom.

“Hey guys, I bought us bacon – Oh my god! Oh God I’m sorry! Oh Jesus!” He exclaims, covering his eyes with his hands and starting to back out of the room, groping for the door handle to pull it shut after him, while trying to get the image of his best friends in that position out of his head.

“Michael! Get out!” Ashton practically growls and Michael is more than a little afraid of him in that moment.

“I’m going, for the love of God I’m going!” The door slams shut behind him but he can still hear he muffled sound of Calum giggling and Ashton muttering something that doesn’t sound particularly friendly.

Twenty five minutes later, and he’s finishing off the last of his coffee when Calum saunters into the kitchen, boxers low on his hips and wearing Ashton’s t-shirt. His hair is all tousled, a blissed out expression on his face. “Ash is in the shower. What was it you said about bacon?” Calum asks, yawning and scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m surprised you even remember,” Michael answers, sliding the bag with the two (now cold) subs over to Calum whose face lights up when he sees what’s in the bag and immediately sets about heating them up.

“I always remember bacon. But what brought you over? Thought you were spending the day sleeping. You look like you’re about to pass out, by the way.”

“I haven’t slept in over thirty hours.” Michael says, and he’s surprised to realise that he’s not even that tired any more.

“Well, what the hell are you doing here? Don’t get me wrong, I love that you brought me food, but what dragged you out of bed?” Calum slams the microwave door shut at the same time Ashton makes his reappearance, walking up behind Calum and enveloping him in a hug.

“Michael bought you a sandwich,” Calum says from where he’s buried in Ashton’s arms. “Say thanks.”

Ashton disentangles himself from Calum and walks over to Michael before planting a sloppy kiss on the top of his head. “Thanks, Mikey!” he exclaims before turning on the coffee pot.

“Ugh, gross. Keep that mouth away from me, I know where it’s been.” Michael grumbles, running his fingers through his hair to tame it back into it’s controlled mess. “Anyway,” he continues. “I have news.” Calum and Ashton just stare at him expectantly, neither of them saying a word and suddenly Michael feels a little embarrassed. He starts twirling his hoody string around his fingers, and with each second he can feel their eyes on him, his face heats up a little more.

“Well?” Calum asks, pulling the subs out of the microwave when it beeps, plating them up and handing one to Ashton who immediately starts devouring his. “What is it?”

“Guess who I had coffee with this morning,” Michael says, lifting his eyes from the empty wrappings of his sub and looking at his two friends. When neither of them look like they’re about to answer he just blurts out “Luke”.

“Luke? As in the guy you slept with? As in the guy who left and didn’t leave a number? How did that even happen?” Aston asks, tomato sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Michael flinches when Ashton reminds him about the whole one night stand thing. “Well, you know he works in the day-care place my cousin Max goes to, and this morning Helen asked me to drive him there, and I was pretty tired but I did it anyway. Well, Luke opened the door, said I looked like I needed coffee, and then took me for coffee.” It’s silent for a few minutes, the only sound Ashton munching on his breakfast, Calum’s lying on the counter forgotten.

“Wow,” Calum says, breaking the silence. “That’s something. You uh - you gonna see him again?”

“I think so, I mean he gave me his number and said we could get together when we’re both free.” Ashton nods, but they both look a little sceptical.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, Mike?” Ashton asks, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “I mean, the guy slept with you and then like... ran off.” Calum swats Ashton’s bicep and shoots a hard stare at him, and then turns to look at Michael, waiting for his answer.

“Jeez, Ash. We’re not getting married or anything. But he seems like a nice guy. Can’t hurt to talk to him.”

Ashton nods, and then leaves his plate over to the sink. “I have work at 8 tonight, so I’m gonna go vegetate on the sofa ‘til then. You guys coming?”

“In a minute,” Cal says, smiling at him. “Just gonna tidy up a little bit.”

When Ashton leaves and the door is closed, Calum throws the dishcloth down on the counter and walks over to where Michael is still sitting with his head resting in his hands, trying to keep his eyes open.

“It can hurt,” Calum says softly, pushing Michael’s fringe off his forehead.

“Huh?” Michael asks, face scrunching up in confusion.

“It can hurt, talking to him. I knew you liked him the day after you slept with him, and if he doesn’t feel the same it can hurt. Promise me that if it looks like he has no intentions of being with you in that way that you’ll break it off. Hanging around will only make you hurt.” Calum says, and Michael leans his head on Calum’s shoulder and nods. “Good, because you’re my best friend and I love you. I don’t want to see you pining over some guy who’s too much of an asshole to see how awesome you are.” Michael hums his response, suddenly too tired to speak. The adrenaline and caffeine has worn off, and he’s ready to crash.

“C’mon,” Calum says, tugging him off the stool and pulling him in the direction of the sitting room. “Come nap with me on the sofa. Since I haven’t had Ash sleeping beside me,  I’m not sleeping so good.”

***

Michael’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but when he wakes up and sees the blinds drawn and the corner lamp switched on he knows it’s dark out. He pulls himself into a sitting position on the sofa and can hear the faint sounds of Calum pottering away in the kitchen. Michael’s stomach growls and he’s just about to stand and go to steal some food when Calum is bursting through the door.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I was just gonna come in and get you. There’s scrambled eggs and toast for you.”

“Awesome, thanks,” Michael says, standing up and stretching. “What time is it?”

“About eight thirty. You literally passed out when you got on the sofa. Ash and I thought you were dead.” Calum turns and heads in the direction of the kitchen, Michael following directly after. Before he even makes it into the kitchen he can smell Calum’s eggs – he’s not sure what he puts in them to make them taste so good, and he’s tried a million times to get the recipe but every time he asks, Calum just winks and changes the subject.

They’re sitting at the breakfast bar when Calum points his fork at Michael almost accusingly and says “Your phone was about to die so I put it on charge.”

“Thanks” Michael says through a mouthful of eggs, knowing if Ashton was here he’d be getting a telling off for having no table manners. Which is a lie because Michael can be very well mannered when he wants to be. “Did Alex even call you to see if I was alive?”

“Nope,” Calum says as he forks some of his eggs on to a slice of toast. “No one did.”

“Ouch.” Michael finishes off his food and rinses his plate under the tap and leaving it to drip-dry on the rack. He walks over to the socket that Calum has his phone plugged into and switches it on. There is one text from Alex that simply says “pick up milk dickhead”.

But it’s the text he received before Alex’s that has him smiling at his phone like a moron, teeth showing and eyes crinkling up at the sides.

            From: Luke (18:57)

            Downloaded city of evil. U were right, it’s awesome. I’m probably gonna go

            on an a7x binge b/c of u.

“What’s got you smiling like an idiot?” Calum asks, coming to look over Michael’s shoulder.

“Nothin’” Michael says, locking his phone before Calum can see. “Just Alex being Alex.” Calum gives him a funny look before walking away and grabbing a coke from the fridge.

“Texas Chainsaw Massacre is on in 10 minutes and I expect you to watch it with me. Move your butt, Clifford.” He plugs out the phone charger, and texts Luke back before grabbing his own coke and joining Calum on the sofa.

            To: Luke (20:22)

            Sorry for the slow reply – passed out. Man that’s awesome, no one i know likes

            em. Get waking the fallen next, it will change your life.

            From: Luke (20:28)

            ha, i guessed that, u looked exhausted. dude – eternal rest. i am drooling.

Michael spends a lot of the movie just texting Luke, and eventually has to stop when Calum kicks him hard in the thigh and mutters something about technology coming between them. Michael apologises and plasters himself against Calum when he flinches at the movie, even though Calum protested, exclaiming he was fine and was “not even a little scared, thank you very much”.

Michael’s known him all his life – the little squeak gave him away. So he just cuddles into him without saying anything, and doesn’t even comment when Calum pulls him in even closer.

***

“I asked Luke to meet us at the diner tonight,” Michael says, scooping up the last of his ice cream and popping the spoon into his mouth. Calum and Ashton stop talking to each other in favour of staring at him, Calum’s mouth open a little bit.

“What?” Ashton finally asks.

“Luke. I asked him to meet us at the diner. I want him to meet you guys.”

“You sure, Mikey?” Calum asks, flipping through the television channels and landing on NCIS. “I mean, it’s great and all, but don’t you think it’s a bit... soon?”

Michael shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t think so. I mean, we’ve hung out a few times, and it’s not like this is a date or anything. It’s just my friend meeting my other friends.” His stomach drops a little at the word ‘friend’, but he’s gotten pretty good at dealing with that. “Plus, it means I’ll have someone to talk to when you guys decide it’s been too long since you made out and abandon me for each other’s tonsils.”

He can feel Calum’s stare on the side of his head and so chooses to ignore it, focussing instead on the tv, trying to make it look like he’s interested. Calum knows about Michael’s feelings towards Luke, and Michael remembers the promise he made to drop it and not hang around and get hurt if it looks like Luke doesn’t feel the same way. But the thing is, he’s not sure where they stand with each other. They text constantly, Luke sometimes getting a little flirty, their hands brush when they’re walking close together, and Luke touches and hugs him a lot more than all of his other friends. Maybe he’s looking too far into it, just too tuned into Luke that he notices even the smallest movements, and it’s making his head hurt.

“Mike....” Calum starts, but he doesn’t get much further because Ashton’s hand is on his thigh and he’s giving him a look that Calum seems to understand, because he stops talking, and Ashton finishes for him.

“I’m sure we’ll have a good time. If he’s a nice as you say he is.” Michael smiles at Ashton, silently thanking him. Calum just looks at him with his big brown eyes that seem to say ‘just be careful’, and Michael squirms under the intensity of it.

***

The diner they go to is a small fifties themed diner that sits on the edge of town. It’s busy enough that it’s stayed open for as long as it has, but not too busy that it’s uncomfortably packed and they have to shout to hear each other. Michael and Calum have been coming here since they met in school, Ashton joining them as soon as they met in high school. The owner, a small old woman named Julie (who was middle aged when they started coming here), always leads them to the same booth near the back. Michael keeps his eye on the door when they sit down, hoping Luke will be able to spot them.

“Hey boys, you want the usual?” Julie asks, pulling the notebook out of her apron and the pen from behind her ear.

“We’re actually waiting on someone else to arrive, so can we wait and order when they get here? But until then, I’ll have a strawberry milkshake. Anyone else having a drink?” Ashton says, looking expectantly from Calum to Michael.

“I’ll have the same, then,” Calum says. Michael’s stomach is in knots, his mouth as dry as sand, and he’s not certain he could even swallow a milkshake let alone keep it down so he just murmurs “no, I’m alright thanks”.

“Mike’s a little nervous tonight,” he hears Ashton tell Julie. “He’s got a date.”

“Oh, a date?” Julie says, winking at Michael. He can feel a blush spreading all over his cheeks, right up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s not a date!” Michael tries to explain, and kicks Ashton under the table when Julie walks away to get their drinks.

“Where is lover boy anyway?” Ashton asks, rubbing his shin. “What time did you tell him to meet us at?”

“Well, he text ten minutes ago saying he was on his way, so he’ll be here soon, I guess.” As if on cue the door to the diner swings open and Luke steps in, wearing the same beanie and jacket that he wore on their first hang out, or whatever it was. His eyes scan the room and Michael is about to stand up and get his attention when Luke spots him, smile breaking out over his face before he heads over to their table and slides onto the unoccupied bench beside Michael.

Calum and Ashton stare at him in silence for a few seconds after they say hello, and Michael fidgets beside Luke as he scans through the menu. The awkward tension is broken when two large milkshakes are placed on the table, Ashton’s eyes going wide and his mouth watering a little.

“You boys ready to order now?” Julie asks, looking Luke up and down before smirking and wiggling her eyebrows at Michael, who then slumps down further in his seat, his face turning red, and regretting his decision to do this whole dinner thing in the first place.

Calum clears his throat before saying “Uhm, me and Ash will have the usual.”

Michael nods. “Same for me.”

Luke looks at the menu once more before saying “And I’ll have a hamburger and fries, with a coke, thanks.”

“So,” Michael starts when Julie collects the menus and walks away, “that’s Ashton and that’s Calum,” he says, pointing at each boy respectively. “And guys, this is Luke.”

“I recognise you two,” Luke says as he pulls off his beanie and shrugs off his jacket. “You were the ones making faces at Michael on the dance floor the night that we.... that we uh... the night that we met.”

And there it is. It hasn’t come up between them since they started hanging out, so naturally Luke decides to mention it when he meets Michael’s friends for the first time. He kind of wants to run and hide, but he has his foot ready to kick in case Ashton or Calum look like they’re going to say anything rude. But Calum surprises him, throwing his head back and laughing.

“I forgot about that! We couldn’t believe someone had gotten Michael out dancing. He’s usually a grumpy arsehole when we take him out, glaring at anyone who comes within a foot of him.”

It gets easier from then on, the conversation turning lighter and Calum loosening up a bit. Michael doesn’t blame him, he was just as protective of Calum when he started dating Ashton. Michael can feel himself starting to relax, just munching on his fries and enjoying the conversation, smiling and laughing along with the other three. Luke is more talkative than Michael would have thought, and to anyone on the outside of their group, it looked like the four had been friends for years, let alone under an hour.

Luke seems to win their approval when he tells them about his college course, and the career path he wants to pursue when he finishes and has his degree. Which gets them talking about college, and starts Ashton talking about his job at the hospital.

“I don’t know how you had the strength to do it, man. Medicine’s tough. I couldn’t even take literature.” Michael says when Ashton tells them about the day he took his last exam and knew he could finally be a doctor.

“Art is tough, too.” Luke says, abandoning his food and turning to look at Michael. “I mean, think about how much time and effort you gotta put into one piece. And the precision and detail and all that other stuff I don’t even know you have to do. I think it takes a lot of guts for someone to submit a painting and then get a grade for it. I mean, you put a part of you in art, and I don’t think I could have someone grade something I put a bit of me into. Hell, I don’t even think I could let anyone see it. I don’t know how you have the strength to do it. Don’t think it’s any less work than any other course out there.”

They all fall silent then, Ashton and Calum staring at the other two boys with their mouths open, and Michael struggling to breathe. Luke’s eyes don’t leave Michael’s, and Michael is starting to feel like he did the night they met, just before they shared their first kiss. He decides he needs to say something, because no one has said anything for a really long time, so he says “Uh..” as he scratches the back of his neck. “Thanks, I guess?” It’s silent again, Luke just staring right at him and Michael wants to scream and run away because it feels heavy, but he also wants to kiss Luke to within an inch of his life.

“So, Luke, Michael told us you like Green Day,” Calum says, pulling Luke’s attention away from Michael, and Michael can finally breathe. He wants to kiss Calum a little bit, too.

***

“So,” Michael says, toeing the gravel with the tip of his Converse and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jean jacket to keep them warm. “Tonight was fun.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees, resting against the side of his car. “Calum and Ashton are great.” At the mention of his friends, Michael looks over to the car where his friends are waiting for him, both their heads peeking up behind the back seats as they stare out the back window, ducking when Michael catches their eye. He flips them off before turning back to Luke.

“That’s debatable,” he says.

Luke laughs, and it takes Michael a moment to realise that Luke’s hand is reaching for his own, and so he pulls it out of his pocket and lets Luke interlock their fingers. Luke tugs him closer, and Michael’s entire body is tingling, his limbs going numb.

“I mean it,” Luke says, his blue eyes shining in dim glow coming from the street light.

“Are they greater than me?” Michael asks, raising his pierced eyebrow and trying to sound offended.

“Definitely not,” Luke says, his voice low and husky, and Michael almost has to strain to hear it. He can feel Luke tugging at his hand to pull them even closer together, and then Luke’s face is getting closer as he leans in. His lips are so pink, so full, and Michael remembers the taste and feel of them all too well. But soon that will no longer be a memory, because Luke is here now and very much giving Michael the signal to kiss him, and Michael wants to. God, he wants to.

So he closes the distance, their lips only a millimetre apart when the sound of a loud, long car honk startles them and they pull apart. “Fuck,” Michael curses, and looks back to see Calum hanging out the passenger window of Ashton’s Passat and beckoning Michael over.

“Mike, c’mon!” He shouts. “Ash got called into work, we gotta go!”

“And that’s my queue,” Michael says, turning back to Luke, squeezing the hand he still has a hold of. “I’ll see you around.”

He turns to walk away when he feels Luke grab his wrist and spin him back towards him, hands bracketing Michael’s hips and keeping him close. He’s about to ask what’s wrong but his throat is dry and then there are lips on his own and his brain shuts down for a second while he kisses Luke back.

“See ya round, Mikey.” Luke says when they pull apart, mouths still close but not quite touching. He opens his car door while Michael stands running his fingers over his lips like he can’t believe they’re his own.

He’s pulled out of his trance when Ashton beeps the horn again and Calum practically screams “Michael! Move it!”

***

“I approve,” Calum says, flopping onto his bed beside Michael, who is already bundled up beneath the duvet and playing his Nintendo.

“What?” Michael asks, scootching over to make more room.

“Of Luke, I approve. He’s nice and has good taste in music.” Michael’s heart feels like it’s about to burst. Although he doesn’t need Calum to like Luke, it’s a huge weight off Michael that he does. He’s known Calum his whole life, and he wouldn’t like to date someone Calum couldn’t be around, could never be with someone that would push Calum away.

Michael puts his Nintendo on the beside dresser and buries his face into the pillow, smelling Ashton’s hair product and laundry detergent. “We kissed,” he says, and he feels a little juvenile and embarrassed, admitting it like that. Like the time he told Calum he made out with Chase Brooke when they were fifteen.

“That’s awesome, Mikes.” Michael hears Calum yawn then, burying his face in Michael’s back. “He a good kisser?”

“The best. Calum?”

“Mhmm?” Calum mumbles out, and Michael can feel the warm air on his back when Calum exhales.

“D’you hate that Ash can’t be here every night?”

“Yeah, especially when you get used to having someone to sleep next to, and then they’re just... gone. I didn’t miss him this much when he was working during the day, ‘cause he’d come home and we’d watch a movie and then cuddle or whatever. But now he’s home at 8am, and he sleeps most of the day, and then he wakes up to get ready for work, and then he’s gone. And I could deal with all that, but there’s just something about sleeping alone. I don’t like it.” 

Michael rolls onto his back and Calum rests his head on Michael’s chest. “Calum?” Michael asks again, and watches as Calum’s eyes flutter back open before continuing. “D’you think we could have ever worked? Like, would we have been good together?”

“Nope,” Calum says, eyes slipping shut again.

“Okay, ouch.”

“You know what I mean. We’re too good together to ever have been together together. Do you get me?”

“No. That’s the most confusing thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I mean,” Calum says, pushing himself up on one elbow and looking down at Michael. “You’re like my brother, and I’d do anything for you. I think what we have now means more than what we would have had in a relationship. I’m not sure why. What brought this on?” Calum smiles, trying to ease the tension. “Are you in love with me?” he asks, faking a gasp and covering his mouth with his hand.

Michael just rolls his eyes. “Obviously I’m in love with you. I want to marry you and adopt loads of children and be really domesticated. Have a garden and stuff.”

“You’re an idiot. But really, what’s up?”

“Nothing, honestly. Just thought about it since you’re using me as a boyfriend substitute.”

Calum smacks his chest before laying back down. “m not. I’m using you as a nice, big, warm pillow. Now shut up and let me sleep.”

***

“Dude, your phone’s ringing in the kitchen,” Alex says, walking into the sitting room and sitting in the armchair across from Michael. Michael stares at him incredulously until Alex looks back at him.

“And you couldn’t have brought it in with you, no?”

“Nope,” Alex replies, grabbing a magazine from the coffee table and starting to flick through it. “I’m not a maid.”

“Yeah, I mean, you don’t even clean up after yourself so who would expect you to clean up after other people?” Alex gives Michael the finger as he walks into the kitchen and on the way past he gives Alex’s ear a flick for good measure and laughs when Alex shouts “Dick!” after him.  

Just as he takes his phone off charge, it starts ringing in his hand, and he’s shocked to Luke’s name flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” He says when he answers it.

“Hey, Mikey?” Michael tries to ignore the feeling in his stomach at the use of the nickname.

“Yup, it’s me.”

“Alright, so my favourite movie is on HBO later, and I wanna binge on cholesterol rich food while I watch it. I want to order chicken wings, but I also want to order pizza. Problem with that is it’s too much food for one person. What do you think I should do?”

“Well that sounds like quite the predicament,” Michael says, trying to sound confident while also trying to regulate his heart beats. He sees Alex stretching across the armchair to try and hear what Michael is saying, so he walks over and kicks the door shut.

“I do have one idea. Are you willing to come over and watch Trainspotting while we indulge in greasy foods and drink cheap beer?” Michael nods, and then remembers that Luke can’t see him.

“Yeah,” he blurts out, felling his face heat up and being thankful that Luke isn’t there to see him. “That’s a good plan. I was just about to get take out anyway.” He eyes the chicken he had defrosting, and feels bad that it’s going to go to waste. He knows Alex isn’t gonna cook it.

“Okay,” Luke says down the phone. “It’s on at nine, but you can come around whenever.” And by the time they both hang up, Michael is already pulling his boots on and trying to sort out his hair using a saucepan as a mirror.

***

Michael finds himself standing outside the door to Luke’s apartment half an hour later with a crate of beer under one arm and a pain in his gut. The last time Michael was here, he and Luke played Mario Kart for six hours straight, and it was fun and easy. Michael can already tell the atmosphere will be different this time, since it’s the first time they’ve met up since the night at the diner. Since their first (if it can be called that) kiss.

Michael doesn’t know where they stand, or what they are, but hopefully when he gets a few beers into him he’ll have the courage to ask Luke just what exactly is going on. He takes a deep breath before rapping on the door.

“Hey,” Luke says when he swings the door open, smiling big and bright at Michael. He looks good, Michael thinks, in his sweat pants and over sized hoody. Really soft and cuddly. “Was just about to call you and ask when you’d be over. C’mon in!” Michael hands Luke the beer to put into the fridge before following him into the kitchen, sitting at the table while Luke fills two glasses with beer and plops one down in front of Michael.

“Which pizza joint you want to order from?” Luke asks, leaning back against the worktop and taking a sip from his beer.

Michael shrugs. “Any place is fine, I’m not too picky.”

“Lee’s good?” Michael nods, swallowing some of his own beer to try and calm himself down a bit. “Awesome. Movie starts in twenty minutes so I’ll phone it in. You can go in and get comfortable.”

While Luke orders their food, Michael walks into his living room, looking at pictured of guys who have to be Luke’s brothers, and a number of different novels stacked in random places around the room. He’s looking through Luke’s DVD collection when Luke steps back into the room.

“Food’ll be here in half an hour.”

Michael pulls a DVD out of the stack and holds it out for Luke to see. “You have it on DVD, why are you so excited about it being on tv?” Michael asks with a small laugh as Luke looks at the Trainspotting case.

“Oh my God, because it’s different when it’s on tv and you’re not just watching a DVD. Everyone knows that!”

Michael rolls his eyes and puts the DVD back where he found it. “You’re such a dork.”

***

“You’re wrong,” Luke says, gesturing at Michael with a hand that’s still holding a slice of pizza and dripping tomato sauce onto his jeans. “Renton is the best looking one. Don’t even try to argue.” And Michael would argue, if he didn’t have a mouthful of chicken.

“No,” he says, when he finally manages to swallow. “You’re wrong. Have you seen Sick Boy? He’s beautiful – all confidence and whatnot.” Michael takes another swig of beer and rests his head on the back of the sofa, looking over at Luke who’s pulling another slice of pizza from the box. Michael loves his food, but damn, Luke can eat.

Michael is so full and contented that he could easily fall asleep right now, Luke’s occasional laughter sounding like the most beautiful lullaby he ever heard. That gets him thinking of what it would be like to sleep with Luke, to wake up warm and in his arms, face still buried in his chest – and then he drinks more beer to get rid of those thoughts. But he can’t help thinking about Luke because whatever cologne he’s wearing is doing something funny to Michael’s brain and the alcohol is clouding his better judgement and before he can stop himself he’s asking “Luke?” and shuffling closer to Luke on the sofa.

“Mhmm?” Luke asks, pulling his focus away from the tv and staring at Michael, the ghost of a smile still on his lips from a joke someone cracked on screen.

“What are we doing?” Michael asks, chewing on his bottom lip and staring at Luke, whose expression immediately changes. His little smile is gone, his jaw set, and Michael curses himself for being an idiot and ruining their night.

“What do you mean?” Michael knows that Luke knows what he meant, and didn’t want to be the first one to talk about this thing that they’ve got going on. But Michael isn’t going to back down now because where Luke’s thigh is pressed against his is tingling in the most pleasant way, and Luke makes his chest ache a little and his brain all fuzzy and it kind of needs to be addressed.

“Is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be a date?” Luke asks, and Michael tries to read Luke’s face to see what his answer should be, but Luke is giving away nothing, staring at Michael with as much seriousness Michael knows is written all over his own face. The sound of the movie is still droning on in the background, but Michael can’t make out anything that’s being said, his brain too focussed on Luke.

“Do you want it to be a date? I mean, that night at the diner, and the kiss. I just thought that maybe...” Michael trails off, suddenly embarrassed, and starts messing with the label on his beer bottle.

“Yes.” Luke says, and Michael is afraid to look at him, afraid to move, to breathe, in case he heard wrong, or that was some hallucination and Luke didn’t speak at all. But then Luke is pulling the beer bottle from Michael’s grasp and placing it on the floor, putting his palm on Michael’s cheek and making their gazes lock. “I want it to be a date.”

There’s nothing else for Michael to say or do, really, other than close the distance between Luke’s mouth and his own.

Kissing Luke, Michael decides, is his new favourite thing to do in the whole world. Luke’s lips are warm and soft; his lip ring a weird addition that Michael has never really paid attention to before but already loves. His hands flop awkwardly by his own side for a moment before he brings them up to grasp Luke’s hair, Luke groaning and smashing their lips harder together, nibbling on Michael’s bottom lip and then licking it to help ease the sting.

There’s a hand on Michael’s shoulder, pushing him to lie down on the cushions while Luke moves to straddle him, a knee resting each side of his hips. He detaches his lips form Michael’s, moving them down to Michael’s neck and starting to suck a mark over his pulse point. Michael can feel his bones liquefy when Luke’s teeth graze his skin.

“I was so pissed off when they disappeared,” Michael pants out. “The marks you gave me the night we met.” He tilts his head back, baring his throat more so that Luke has better access.

“I can give you more,” Luke says against a mouthful of Michael’s skin and Michael’s hips buck up on their own accord, and his grip tightens on the back of Luke’s sweater. “Mmm, you like getting marked, don’t you?” Luke chuckles, and Michael just nods, not trusting his voice to work. Luke takes his lips from Michael’s neck, and he whines at the loss of contact until he feels Luke’s hot breath against his ear.

“Lemme tell you something,” he whispers, low and dirty. “I like giving ‘em as much as you like getting ‘em.”

“Jesus Christ, Luke,” Michael says, pulling Luke’s mouth back to his own, letting Luke take total control, opening his mouth when he feels Luke’s tongue licking at the seam of his lips. Michael’s heart is beating so fast he’s surprised Luke can’t feel it reverberating off of his own chest.

“You wanna?” Luke asks breathlessly, his hand going to Michael’s belt buckle, and Michael stills, his breath catching in his throat He wants to, he does, but there’s something stopping him. He can’t help but think of the last time they hooked up, how Luke left afterwards without ever intending to contact Michael again. It makes his blood run cold, the thought of Luke leaving again.

But Michael knows that this time around it means more to the both of them than just a one night stand with some hot stranger from a nightclub. This time there are feelings involved, and a lot of other scary shit Michael isn’t prepared to deal with. He can feel his heart quickening, in an entirely different way than when Luke’s lips were on his.

He’s had sex before, they’ve had sex before, but never had sex like this. Never with someone he cared about as much as he cares about Luke. And not just romantically; he cares about Luke as a friend, someone he wants to be around, to talk to, and it’s making him nervous. He doesn’t want to do something wrong and make Luke leave him.

Luke seems to notice Michael’s reluctance, because his movements stop too, and he’s pushing himself up to look at Michael properly, worry swimming in his eyes. Michael feels like the biggest idiot on the planet. “Mikey, what is it?” Luke asks, and Michael has to turn away, shoving his face into one of the throw cushions by his head. “Mike, talk to me.”

“I don’t – I don’t know,” Michael says, covering his face with his hands. He feels Luke squeeze himself into the space between the back of the sofa and Michael, an arm still slung across his waist, solid and warm.

“Don’t know what?” Luke asks, and he sounds worried, his fingers trailing across Michael’s stomach over his t-shirt. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do.” Luke shoves his face into Michael’s neck, placing a chaste kiss just under his ear. “I’m not gonna push you into anything, you know that right?”

Michael shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this and he hates it. He’s scared – of what exactly, he doesn’t know – and he wants to explain how he feels to Luke but he doesn’t even know where to start. “I know that,” he says, “and I want to, but I just... can’t. I can’t.” He feels ridiculous and childish, and even more so when he feels a lump forming in his throat and tears stinging the back of his eyes.

Luke pulls Michael in a little tighter against him. “Talk to me.”

Michael takes a deep breath. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.” He feels a hand pushing his fringe off his forehead, soft fingers then carding through his hair.

“Fuck what up?” Luke asks, his voice soft and quiet like he’s scared he’ll spook Michael or something.

“I like you, Luke. I really like you. And it’s scaring me a little because I’ve never really felt this way and I don’t know what  to do or how to deal with it, and I don’t want to fuck up what we have now.” He feels a little lighter when he gets this off his chest, but Luke stays quiet and Michael wishes he kept his mouth shut.

“I like you too. And when we kept running into each other I knew I wasn’t gonna let you get away. I’m a little scared too, but I think that’s a good thing because it means I care. I care a lot.”

Michael squeezes his eyes shut. “I just don’t want you to leave again.” He feels Luke’s arms tighten around him then, and feels lips on his forehead, on his closed eyes, then on his lips.

“’M not going anywhere, Mikey. Not this time.” Michael nods, kissing Luke again and opening his legs for Luke to manoeuvre between them.

***

“Are you sure?” Luke asks, hot breath tickling Michael’s ear as he positions himself.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Michael says, running his hands up and down Luke’s spine, holding him close. When Luke pushes in Michael has to bite on his shoulder to keep quiet, little whimpers being absorbed by Luke’s soft skin.

“So good, baby. So beautiful.” Michael shivers at Luke’s words, tightening his legs around Luke’s waist and pulling him deeper, moving up against him and moaning at the feel of his cock rubbing against Luke’s warm tummy.

Luke starts to move faster on top of him, bringing him closer with every thrust. Michael is a mess, his sweat damp hair clinging to his forehead, cheeks an impressive shade of red, profanities and Luke’s name rolling off his tongue as he chases his orgasm.

And when it hits, it’s so powerful he almost cries, bucking up underneath Luke, mouth open wide in a silent scream. It only takes Luke a couple more thrusts to reach his own climax, mouth pressing hard against Michael’s as they both come down from their high, aftershocks making Michael twitch and whine at the feel of Luke still inside him.

When they’re cleaned up and entangled under the duvet, Michael feels more content than he ever has in his whole life. Luke’s snoring softly above him, and Michael can hear Luke’s heart beating from where he has his head resting on his chest. The bedroom blinds are still open, and as Michael stares at the stares he can’t help but think about the night they just shared.

Sex has never felt so good before. And it’s not like they did anything outrageous. Michael thinks it’s just Luke. The way he cared more about how Michael felt than himself, how he was reluctant when Michael changed his mind about waiting, insisting there was no rush, held him in his arms afterwards, stroking Michael’s hair until he fell asleep himself.

Michael doesn’t want to completely disregard the first time they had sex, but he’s like to think that this time around was their proper first. Both sober, both aware of what they’re getting themselves into.

Luke lets out a snore, and Michael chuckles before pulling the duvet tighter around himself and falling asleep, lulled by the gentle movements of Luke’s chest as he breathes.

***

            From: Calum (12:18)

            U wanna come over for dinner later?

            To: Calum (12:30)

            sure, can my boyfriend come?

            From: Calum (12:42)

            omg. oh my fuck when did thIS HAPPEN? IT IS LUKE YEAH?

            From: Calum (13:01)

            mike you better fuckin answer me

            From: Calum (13:35)

            Ur an ass u can’t leave me hangin like this fuckIN TELL ME

            From: Calum (14:06)

            pls just tell me if its luke

            From: Calum (14:06)

            ofc its luke

            From: Calum (14:22)

            U KNOW WHAT I DONT CARE. I DONT.

            From: Ashton (14:30)

            Congrats man you managed to give cal an aneurysm. oh and im happy for u J

            From: Calum (15:09)

            ur boyfriend can come to dinner

            To: Calum (15:11)

            awesome, thanks

            From: Calum (15:12)

            MIKEY

***

“I don’t like this,” Ashton says from where he’s sitting on the sofa, Calum pressed snugly against his side. His eyes are on Luke and Michael who’re kissing each other and blushing and giggling. “They’re out-cuteing us, Cal. Look at them. Look how cute they are.”

Calum laughs, throwing his arm around Ashton’s middle and looking at the television but not really watching it. “I’m happy for him. Both of them. Still gotta give Luke ‘the talk’ though.”

Ashton plants a kiss on the top of Calum’s head, running his fingers over Calum’s abdomen. His eyes go back to Luke and Michael, who are making out heavily on one of the armchairs’ Michael’s legs over the side, his ass planted in Luke’s lap. “If they start fucking on our sofa I will not hesitate to kill them. Oi!” He shouts, and the two boys instantly pull apart. Luke smiles sheepishly, but Michael just looks at Ashton expectantly. “Take that shit to your own bed, yeah? We don’t need your naked asses on our upholstery.”

Michael moves from Luke’s arms into a standing position, holding his hand out for Luke to take so he can pull him up. “See you guys tomorrow,” Michael says, pulling Luke towards the door. “Got stuff to do.”

Luke’s face is red, and he mutters a “thanks for dinner” before Michael has him out the door, swinging it shut behind them. Ashton’s not so sure they’re gonna make it home before Michael has Luke pinned down somewhere.

“Unbelievable,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Sex manic.”

“Hey, we were like that once. It’s the beauty of new relationships.”

“And what’s the beauty of old ones?” Ashton asks, eyebrows wiggling.

Calum moves, shoving his face into Ashton’s neck where he starts to suck a mark. “I know exactly what to do to make you come,” he whispers into Ashton’s ear.

“Yeah, I suppose that’s quite beautiful,” Ashton says before there’s a hand down his pants.

When they’re lying in bed later that night, Ashton pulls Calum against his chest, running his fingers through his dark hair. “Oh yeah, Brenda’s coming back to work next week, so I’m not gonna be working at night anymore.”

Calum grins and squeezes Ashton a little tighter.

***

Ashton was right. Five minutes after they got into the car, Michael pulled off onto a little side road, clambering over the console and getting to get his mouth on Luke. Straight after, Luke returned the favour.