#(his neighbors gifted him a wreath for the holidays and he made eye contact as he threw it in the trash right in front of them)

[bittsandpieces]

thinking about the dude i hooked up with who realized he didn't have any condoms and neither did I, so he got back out of bed, told me not to stop touching myself, and drove to the store to get condoms. got back ten minutes later and fucked me three times in a row. absolutely insane

[allsassnoclass]

how about “i know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled please come inside” for muke? xx

Here you are my darling I hope you enjoy it!

Ficmas Day 6

Rating: teen and up

Read on AO3

Michael is woken up at ten in the morning by Mariah Carey passionately singing about what she wants for Christmas, accompanied by a voice that Michael has become unfortunately accustomed to within the past four months.  He groans and flops over, pulling his pillow over his head and hoping for the thousandth time that his neighbor might suddenly lose his voice, or at least lose the ability to blast music when Michael is still trying to sleep.  He’s coming off of the night shift and it’s Christmas Eve.  He should be allowed to actually sleep.

The pillow doesn’t help, so he slaps his hand against the wall as loudly as he can.  That doesn’t seem to help either, and Luke keeps hitting high notes that would be really impressive if Michael wasn’t currently plotting his murder.

Plotting Luke Hemming’s murder is something that Michael does frequently.  He’s never immediately disliked someone so quickly, but Luke is not only a professional at waking him up during what little sleep Michael is trying to get, but he has managed to set off the fire alarm with his cooking failures three times already, he sometimes keeps a bike in the hall that Michael almost always manages to run into no matter where it is, and when he watches TV it’s always bad reality programs at top volume.  His mail continuously somehow ends up in Michael’s slot, and he never says “thank you” when Michael gives it to him.  He has an endless trail of people tramping in and out of his apartment at all hours, but Calum said he got passive-aggressive about buzzing him up when Michael was still in the shower, despite them having met in the lobby multiple times and Luke knowing that Calum is Michael’s emergency contact.

When Michael ran into him during his move-in and said hi, Luke’s dog had growled at him.

Dogs love Michael.

Despite his cherubic blonde curls and dreamy blue eyes, Luke Hemmings might be the devil.  This was only confirmed when he started playing Christmas music and decorating his door the day after Halloween.

Michal isn’t a grinch.  He likes Christmas as much as the next person who grew up celebrating it, but he likes when it’s confined to the proper month.  There’s something to be said about the feel-good movies and lights twinkling against the snow at night, but he works overnights at a 24 hour grocery store, and at this point Christmas music makes him want to claw his ears off.  Luke doesn’t seem to listen to anything else, and he has a wreath and line of jingle bells on his door.  Michael doesn’t even want to see what the inside of his apartment looks like.

His one solace is that today Luke is catching a plane to go back to his parents’ house.  Their bedrooms share a wall, and Michael has heard him making plans to load up Petunia and spend Christmas at his childhood home.  Michael is not so lucky, confined to his apartment for the holiday.

He’s not sure what his plans are yet.  He’s trying not to be too sad about it, but it’s difficult when everyone under the sun is getting to spend it with family and he’s going in for a night shift.

The song on the other side of the wall switches to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.”  Michael tries to block out Luke’s self-dueting and viciously stamps down the jealousy bubbling in his gut.

-/-

Luke finally leaves the apartment at 2 pm.  Michael hears him cooing to his dog and the jangle of keys as he locks up, and then the apartment is blessedly silent.  He lays in bed for an hour scrolling through his phone, but eventually seeing everyone’s messages about the holiday and seeing their families becomes too much and he gets up, making his way to the shower.  The apartment is colder than usual, and when he looks out the window he only sees a mass of white, swirling too fast to make out individual flakes.  Chicago seems to be living up to its nickname.  Maybe it’s a good thing that he doesn’t have to drive far to get to work tomorrow.  He bundles up in his coziest sweatshirt and sweatpants and his favorite pair of fuzzy socks, anyway.

Michael is getting something to eat when he hears Luke’s voice again, still talking to his dog.  It’s clearly coming from the hallway, and Michael frowns when something thumps, followed by Luke apologizing.  He leaves the plate with his half eaten toast on the counter and presses his ear to the door, trying to make the words take distinct shape.

“... know, girl, but we’re almost back,” Luke says.  “Then we’ll… I don’t know.  We’ll figure something else out, right?  Fuck, where are my fucking keys?”  Something else hits the floor.  Luke sniffs.

“Fuck,” he says, but it’s small and fragile.  Michael hasn’t heard Luke sound defeated before now, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to hear it again.  To know that someone who typically is annoyingly joyful is unable to keep up that demeanor outside the privacy of his own home makes Michael’s heart break a little.

Maybe that’s why he opens the door.  Michael doesn’t know; if he was asked, he’d have to say that he was reaching for the doorknob before his mind caught up with his limbs.

Luke scrambles at the sound, wiping at his eyes.  He’s crouched on the floor, mittens in his hand, a large duffle on the floor next to him and a backpack open in front.  Petunia’s dog crate is blocking part of the hallway.

“Luke,” Michael says.  He doesn't have anything else to say; he didn’t think this far ahead.

“I’ll be quieter,” Luke sniffs.  “Sorry.  Don’t want to ruin your perfect day.”

“That’s not why I’m out here,” Michael frowns.  “It’s just a normal day for me.  Did your flight get cancelled?”

“What do you think?” Luke snaps.  “It’s a blizzard out there.  All flights are grounded until at least tomorrow.”

“Sorry,” Michael says.  Luke’s face twists up, and he looks down and takes a breath.  He paws through something in his backpack, but it’s packed in pretty tight and he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, hands falling uselessly after a moment.

“I can’t find my keys,” he says, voice small again.

“Oh.  Do you… you can come and look for them in my apartment, if you want.  Just so you’re not spilling all your stuff in the hallway, you know?”

Luke frowns.

“I guess I could make hot chocolate, too?” Michael offers.  “I mean, it must be pretty cold out there, with the snow and wind and everything.”

“You hate me,” Luke says flatly.

“I know.  Well, I don’t--” he sighs.  Even when he’s trying to do something nice for him, talking to Luke is infuriating.  “Look.  I know that we don’t like each other, but it’s Christmas Eve and your flight was just cancelled.  Do you want hot chocolate or not?”

Luke looks at his backpack, then at the dog crate.

“Can I let Petunia out?”

“Sure, as long as she doesn't growl at me.”

Luke considers for another moment, long enough that Michael has to tamp down the urge to fidget with his sleeves.

“Okay,” he says.  Then, after a delay, “Thanks.”

Michael nods once, then retreats back into his apartment and holds the door open.

Luke gathers up his backpack and drags the dog crate behind him, immediately crouching to undo the clasp once Michael closes the door.

Petunia woofs in the crate while he fumbles with the latch, launching forward and nearly tackling Luke once he finally gets it open.  He hugs her to him, burying his face in her back, and Michael makes himself look away, reaching for the mugs instead and checking to ensure there's water in the kettle before putting it on the stove.

If Luke wants his cocoa made with milk, he can suck it.  Michael hopes he isn't expecting whipped cream, either.

"Can Petunia be on your furniture?" Luke asks, still hugging the wriggling beast.  She's a solid dog.  Michael isn't sure how Luke got her crate down the stairs.

"Sure," he says.  Luke gets her go and she wanders around the apartment sniffing every corner.  Michael hopes he didn't leave any snacks lying around.  He breaks eye contact with the kettle to peer around the corner and ensure that his bedroom door is closed, too.

"So," he says as he gets out two packets of cocoa mix, ripping them open and pouring them into the mugs.  "Where... um, where does your family live?"

He glances at Luke, standing in the middle of the room and looking around with a slight frown on his face.

He could try to seem less judgmental.  Michael's trying to help him out here.

"They're in California," Luke says.  "The northern part."

"Oh.  That'd be a long flight."

"Yeah," Luke says.  He doesn't say anything else and Michael has just about run out of his small talk, so he turns back to the kettle and wills it to heat up faster.  Petunia's dog collar jingles and Michael looks back long enough to see her hop up on the couch next to where Luke has finally sat down.

"You don't have any Christmas decorations up," Luke says.

"Oh," Michael replies.  "No, I guess not."

"Do you not celebrate?  Sorry, I don’t know your religion or anything."

"Not really," he says.  "I mean, I kind of do, but I'm an atheist, and since I can't go home doing Christmas by myself felt depressing.  Calum and I already exchanged gifts."

"Oh," Luke says.  "Where does your family live?"

"St. Louis.  I have a shift tomorrow night, so it didn't seem worth the drive."

"Sorry," Luke frowns.

"S'okay.  Better than trying to go home and having the flight be cancelled."

Luke purses his lips.  Michael hopes he doesn’t start crying.  Thankfully the kettle chooses that moment to squeal, giving Michael something to do besides stare dumbly at Luke.  For someone who spent what was probably a very frustrating and frazzling amount of time at the airport, his hair looks infuriatingly good right now.

"Do you want marshmallows?" he asks.  "They're a little stale."

"Sure," Luke says.  "Thanks."

Michael gets the marshmallows from his cupboard and plops a few into each of their drinks.  He gives Luke the mug his parents got him with his college logo, keeping the Marvel one that Calum bought for himself.  Luke takes the mug with both hands, their fingers touching, and Michael tries not to snatch his hand back.  Petunia leans forward to sniff, making Michael give her a wide berth on the way to his wicker armchair.

"Are you scared of my dog?" Luke asks.  "Look, I know she has some pit bull in her, but that doesn't mean she's a monster.  She's really sweet."

"She growled at me when we met."

"When was that?"

Typical.  Michael isn't even a big enough blip on Luke's radar for him to remember that they met when he moved in.  Sure, Luke probably met a lot of people that day, but Michael lives right next door, and they've obviously seen each other a lot since then.

"When you moved in.  I was leaving for a shift, you were moving boxes around, and she came out and growled at me."

"Huh."  Luke looks at her.  Petunia looks right back, completely unbothered.  "She's really not typically like that.  The stress of the move made her moody.  If you let her sniff you now, she'll let you pet her.  Come on."

He sets down his cocoa and gestures Michael forward.

"Dude, it's not a big deal."

"It is," Luke says.  He looks sincerely distressed.  Michael immediately wants to correct that, like Luke has some sort of weird superpower that makes everyone around him want to keep him happy.  "I want you to like my dog.  She wants to like you, too."

"Fine," Michael says, rolling his eyes.  "I'll meet your stupid dog."

Luke beams.  He has dimples.  Somehow, this is the worst thing that has happened to Michael today.  His insides feel funny, like he swallowed pop rocks.

"Be nice, Piggy," Luke says to the dog.  Michael cautiously holds out his hand, letting Petunia snuffle at it.  Soon enough she must decide that he isn't worth the trouble because she puts her head back down and lets Michael run a hand over her back.

"She really likes it when you scratch behind her ears."

He tries that out, watching the way her ears flick forward and back and how she keeps moving her eyes from him to Luke.  She sighs and smacks her lips twice, kicking out her back leg and stretching further on the couch.

"See?" Luke says.  "She likes you."

Michael smiles, sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch so he can continue to pet her.

"I miss dogs," he says.  "I keep wanting to get one, but I work too much right now."

"What is it you do?" Luke asks.  He drinks some of his hot chocolate, pulling a face but going back in for another sip.  MIchael’s not sure if that means his cocoa sucks or is acceptable.

"I work nights at a grocery store, but I babysit for some of the families here, too."

"Really?' Luke asks.

"Don't sound so surprised," Michael snorts.

"Sorry," Luke says.  "You just don't strike me as a kid person."

Michael shrugs.  Luke has a point.  Michael was an only child and he gets tired and grumpy easily.  Still, hanging out with his kids usually isn’t that bad.

"It pays well.  They're little demons, but at this point all of them like me, so it's not too bad.  The hardest thing is pretending to be bad at their video games so they don't get upset because I'm beating them."

“I guess,” Luke says.  “I’m a hairstylist, and our salon is pretty high-end.  We don’t get a lot of kids, thank goodness.  I’d be scared that they’d move and I’d cut off the wrong chunk of hair.”

Huh.  That must be why his hair always looks so good.

“You think my hair looks good?” Luke asks.

Shit.  Michael is too used to being alone in the apartment and allowed to speak all of his thoughts to the air.

He shrugs.

Luke makes a pleased noise and drinks more of his cocoa.  His cheeks look a little red, possibly a side effect of him still wearing his coat even though he’s inside with a warm drink.

Michael goes back to his chair and picks up his own cocoa.  Luke takes a few more sips, but it seems like he has used up most of his small talk, too, although he tries as he goes through his backpack, commenting on the book he tucked in there but probably wouldn’t have read and occasionally cooing at Petunia.  Michael is grateful when he finishes his own drink and can take it to the sink to rinse it, spying his half-eaten toast and taking a bite along the way.

Luke finds his keys quickly, zipped into an outside pocket.

“Thanks for the cocoa, and letting me let Petunia out,” Luke says, standing in the middle of the room again, backpack on and keys in hand.

“Yeah, sure,” Michael replies.  “Hope you have a good Christmas.”

“You too,” Luke says.  Michael looks at everything in the room other than him.  Luke grabs his things, calls to Petunia, and leaves for the apartment next door.

-/-

There’s a knock on Michael’s door a few hours later.  It’s still snowing pretty heavily outside, white flakes standing out against a black sky whenever they pass by a light, so it must be someone in the building.  Michael hopes it’s not someone needing a last-minute babysitter.  He’s still tired and trying to savor his one night off, even if he doesn’t have any plans beyond video games and movies.  He’s going to have to resist shouting at the tv into the early morning now that Luke is home again, but he was still looking forward to it.

Luke is standing outside his door.

“Hi,” Michael says slowly.

“Hey,” Luke says.  “Do you want to have dinner?”

“What?” Michael asks, sure that he heard something wrong or is misunderstanding something.

“I dunno.  You’re here, I’m here, neither of us are doing anything.  I don’t really want to eat alone on Christmas Eve.”

Oh.  Michael hopes for once his pale complexion isn’t betraying him, but he can feel his ears burn.  Luke is not asking him on a date; he’s just bored and lonely.  Luke also has automatically assumed that Michael doesn’t have a life and isn’t doing anything which--while true--is a little offensive.

“Okay,” he shrugs.  “What do you want to eat?”

“Well…” Luke looks down at his feet, ever so slightly pigeon-toed.  He has really nice legs, even when they’re covered in baggy sweatpants instead of the usual skin-tight pants Michael typically spies him in.  “I wasn’t planning on being here for a bit, so I have some pasta but no sauce, or I have pancake mix.  We might be able to walk to the Chinese place at the corner, but I don’t know if they’re open with the blizzard.”

“Pancakes sound good,” Michael says.  “I have some eggs, if you want those.”

“Thanks,” Luke says.  “I have some bread for toast and jam and butter.  That’s a full meal.  Want to come to mine?”

“Sure,” Michael says.  “I’ll get the eggs.”

Michael lets his door swing closed.  He toes on his shoes and grabs his phone, then almost forgets the eggs anyway and has to double back to the kitchen.

He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to walk right in to Luke’s apartment or knock out of politeness.  After a moment of deliberation he chooses the latter, navigating around the wreath to rap his knuckles against the wood, which sends Petunia barking and therefore might have been the wrong choice.  Luke doesn’t seem bothered when he opens the door, though.  He just smiles and steps aside, then tells Petunia to stop.  Petunia actually greets Michael at the door, too, snuffling at his feet before trotting after Luke to the kitchen area.

"Woah," he says involuntarily once he gets a clear look at the apartment.  There's a fake tree in the corner, which he expected, but what takes him aback is the tinsel hanging from the ceiling in green and red, the small Santas and snowmen standing proud on available surfaces like the TV stand, side table, and counter, and the numerous other fake evergreen springs scattered around.  There are Christmas pillows on the couch.  There's a wooden reindeer on the wall.

Michael knew that Luke loved Christmas given the numerous carol-sessions and decorations seen from outside the apartment, but somehow he still hadn't considered that the inside would look like this.

"I got started already," Luke calls from the kitchen.  Michael breaks himself out of his decoration shock and follows him into the small area, looking in the mixing bowl Luke gestures to.  The batter inside doesn't appear to be mixed very well, just milk sitting around a mound of powder.  "I don't know when you usually eat, since you work so late, but I hope you don't mind.  If you hate it you don't have to eat it or whatever; I'm not the best cook and I know that you're just humoring me."

Luke puts his hands on the counter and sighs.

"Sorry.  I'm rambling."

"It's okay," Michael says.  "I prefer rambling to awkward silence."

"I'm great at awkwardness," Luke says.  "I excel at being awkward.  If it's possible to make a situation more awkward, I can do it."

"Yeah, I'm getting that," Michael says, eyeing him.  This Luke is different than the Luke Michael so often sees in the hallway.  He's softened by the grey tracksuit he's wearing, hair now pulled half-up, slight embarrassment staining his movements.  This Luke is approachable and comfortable.  Michael thinks he can find his footing here.  The Luke that he interacted with before today is intimidating in his heeled ankle boots and silk shirts.  This one seems like... well, a little like a dork.

Michael reaches for the pancake mix box while Luke takes a fork and starts stirring.

"Hey, did you put an egg in?"

Luke freezes.

"This needs eggs?"

Huh.  This Luke is a dork who is hopeless in the kitchen.

"You weren't underestimating your cooking skills earlier," he says.  "Have you made pancakes before?"

"It was a while ago, okay?" Luke defends.  "I eat out a lot."

"Every self-respecting person should be able to make pancakes," Michael says.  He takes one of the eggs and cracks it over the bowl, Luke pausing in his mixing to give him room.  Thankfully, Luke seems to have a griddle plugged in and warming up.  Michael thinks it probably was a housewarming present that doesn't get much use.

"What kind of eggs do you want?" Michael asks.

"Uh, scrambled."

"How many?"

"You choose."

Michael has never cooked with Luke.  Michael has never seen Luke eat and therefore doesn't know his appetite.  Michael has no clue what to do with that answer.

"Can I have a pan?" he asks.

"Sure," Luke says distractedly, forcefully stabbing at the egg in his mixing bowl to break the yoke.  "They're right over there."

He kicks his leg out towards one of the lower cabinets, right behind where Petunia has taken up residence.

"Hey Petunia, want to move?" he asks her, crouching and slowly opening the drawer.  She stares at him.  He scratches behind her ears and continues to pull the drawer out as far as he can, but it's not far enough.  Eventually she must find the drawer pushing into her back more inconvenient than shifting her position, because she heaves herself up and leaves to sit by her food dish in the corner instead.

"Is this mixed enough?" Luke asks.  He tilts the bowl and Michael cranes his neck to see.  The fact that Luke is asking him at all is weird, because Michael himself isn't exactly in the running for a Michelin star, but there's something to be said about the easy way Luke has admitted his weakness here and turned to Michael for help.  Michael himself would probably just keep messing stuff up rather than admit he needed guidance.

"Um, it's a little lumpy still."

Luke sighs and begins mixing again.  Michael finds a suitable pan and begins cracking eggs.

True to his promises, Luke keeps rambling all throughout the dinner-making process.  He talks about his favorite foods and his friends and asks Michael if they can add chocolate chips to half the pancakes, as if Luke is the guest here instead of Michael.  When he remembers to catch his breath, he asks Michael about himself, seeking the information he had already ended up word-vomiting.  It's a lot more endearing than Michael thought it would be.  For how annoying he finds Luke, there's something endlessly charming about hearing him nervously spout facts about himself.  It's even more charming when he doesn't reprimand Michael for eating some chocolate chips straight out of the bag.

He manages to get batter on his nose halfway through the cooking process.  When Michael points it out, Luke's cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and Michael makes himself turn to start the toast.

The pancakes land themselves on a plate and Luke gets out another two for them to use.  Michael splits the eggs between them and Luke hands out the toast, then they take two of the stools at the counter to eat.

They're not exactly the best pancakes he's ever eaten, but they're not bad at all.  They're made even better by the fact that Michael isn't eating them alone.

Being on a different schedule than everyone else and living alone means that the vast majority of his meals are spent by himself, typically with the tv on just to give a bit of noise.  While Luke turns on the radio softly, Michael barely registers it, too busy listening to Luke's stories of the salon and countering with tales from the night shift at the grocery.  It's deceptively easy to keep conversation flowing between them.

Before Michael has taken his first bite of pancake, he's already decided that hating Luke was a stupid decision.

Of course, Luke is just lonely on Christmas Eve.  While he's smiling and laughing hard enough at things Michael says to sometimes duck forward, close enough to rest his head on Michael's shoulder if he wanted, there's no guarantee that something like this will ever happen with them again.

Michael chews his last few bites slowly.

“Hey,” Luke says as he’s putting the plates in the sink, where the mixing bowl and pan are already taking up residence, “do you want to stay for a bit?  If you don’t have work or anything?  I usually watch some movies on Christmas Eve, but if you don’t want to we can do something else, like…”  He looks around his apartment, biting his lip.  Michael does not stare.  “I have some decks of cards?  We can have more hot chocolate?”

“I’d be down for a movie,” Michael says.  Luke's shoulders slump in relief.  It makes Michael feel better that Luke would be relieved over him staying.  He's astoundingly easy to read up close, emotions flickering over his face and seeping into his body language to create an open book.  It makes it easier to believe that Luke was asking out of a genuine desire to keep his company, rather than misplaced politeness or simple loneliness.

"Great!" Luke says.  "Awesome."

"What do you usually watch?" Michael asks.

"Uh, the Lord of the Rings."

That wasn't what Michael was expecting.  Honestly, he was betting on Elf.

"Like, all three?  Isn't that twelve hours?"

"We usually have them going right after lunch.  I think my parents hoped that watching would tire us out so we wouldn't wake them up early to open presents before church."

"Did it work?" Michael asks.

"Nope," Luke grins.  "Jack--one of my brothers--always ensured we were awake when the sun rose."

"If I had a brother wake me up that early, I would kill him," Michael says.

"Not me.  I wanted him to," Luke says.  "I loved running to the living room and seeing all of the presents and our stockings lined up.  I didn't want to wait a moment more than I had to."

Michael tries to picture a younger Luke Hemmings running excitedly to look under his Christmas tree, early rays of dawn streaming in through a window and fresh snow on the ground.

He doesn't know what Luke looked like back then.  It puts a damper on things, but the image is soaked in nostalgia and happiness regardless.

"If you wake me up early tomorrow it'll be the last thing you do, but we can watch Lord of the Rings," he says.  Luke grins.

"Can we make a blanket fort, too?" he asks.

"What are you, six?"

Luke's face immediately crumples.

Shit.

"No, not like that!  It's not a bad thing!" he backpedals.  "Like, I'm just teasing.  I do it with all of my friends.  If Calum had asked I'd have said the same thing even though I want to."

Luke eyes him critically.

"We're friends now?"

Michael rubs at his chest.  He hadn't even thought before he had said that.  He shouldn't have assumed.  If Luke hadn't warmed up to him in the entirety of their four months as neighbors, why should one night make any difference?

"I guess," he says.  "Why not?  I gave you eggs."

"Yeah, a true sign of friendship," Luke says dryly.

Fuck.  He fucked this up.

"I should go," he says, starting for the door.  Luke lurches into motion, catching his arm as he passes.  It sends goosebumps erupting across his skin, freezing him in his tracks.

"Wait, don't," Luke says.  "Sorry.  We're friends.  Don't go, please.  I didn't--we're friends.  I want us to be friends."

He releases Michael's arm, and Michael feels like he can breath again.

"We're really bad at this," he says.  It makes Luke laugh, lifting at least half the heaviness in the air.  "We're friends, we're going to make a fucking blanket fort, and we're going to watch Lord of the Rings.  Right?"

"Right," Luke says.

"Good.  Let's get started on that blanket fort."

Luke's definition of a blanket fort is more of a nest.  They don't have anything tall enough to prop up a ceiling unless they take the cushions they need to use as a floor, even with Michael going back to his own apartment to bring pillows and blankets.  In the end, Luke moves his small coffee table and they simply pile as much padding and blankets as they can find in front of the couch.  Luke pops a bag of popcorn and offers beverages.  Once he gets settled Petunia flops down next to him, leaving Michael to set up the movie with Luke giving directions, since neither of them could disturb Petunia in good conscience.

Luke ends up disturbing her anyway to take her outside for the bathroom so she doesn't interrupt the movie.

Being alone in Luke's apartment with no distraction is strange, so he takes out his phone and texts Calum.

To Calpal: im in lukes apartment we had pancakes and now we are watching lord of the rings

From Calpal: ???? hot mean neighbor luke?

To Calpal: yeah his flight was cancelled

From Calpal: ????????????? I thought you hated him

To Calpal: hes kinda a dork cant cook for shit his dog likes me now hes kinda funny too we are officially friends

From Calpal: ??????????????????????

Luke’s door opens, and Michael has to scramble for the popcorn so Petunia won’t be able to get at it while Luke takes off his boots and jacket.

To Calpal: g2g tell you later

“Hey, Petunia,” Michael says when she presses against him, stretching for the popcorn he’s holding out of reach.  He runs a hand over her back, fur cold and damp.  “Is it still snowing?”

“A little,” Luke calls.  “I think it’ll stop soon.”  He gets the main light, leaving a lamp on a side table lit, then flops down on the blankets and cushions, shoulder knocking Michael’s briefly.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Luke presses play, and the opening instrumental and Galadriel’s narration fills the small apartment.

Luke is chatty during movies.  Michael would be more annoyed by it if this wasn’t clearly a movie he had seen millions of times before with a million memories to accompany.  Besides, when Michael says he’d like to be a hobbit so he could snack all the time, Luke makes another bag of popcorn for him without asking.

“Do you think--” he asks, then stops.  On screen, the Fellowship arrives at Lothlorien.

“Do I think what?” Michael prompts.

“Do you think I’ll be able to go home tomorrow?”

Michael looks at him, lounging back on the cushions with one of the blankets pulled around him.  He let his hair down, curls shadowing his face a bit more in the low light.

“Yeah, if the snow stops,” he says.  “But if not… if you’re still lonely, you can hang out with me until I go to work.”

“Really?” Luke asks.

“Yeah, why not,” Michael says.  “If you’re not sick of me, I don’t have any plans.  I was just going to play video games.”

Luke smiles at him.

“I like video games.”

“Great.  We’ll play video games.”

Michael turns back to the movie, but Luke’s hand snakes over a snoring Petunia and grabs his own.

“Thank you,” he says.  “Really.  You’ve made what would’ve been a really shit time into a surprisingly nice Christmas.”

“It’s not even Christmas yet,” Michael says, feeling his cheeks heat up.  Thankfully Luke won’t be able to see it in the low light.

“You’ll make that nice, too.”

Michael squirms under his attention.  It feels too nice, and that’s something he can’t afford to consider right now.

“Um, I think there’s an important scene coming up,” he says.  Luke squeezes his hand again, but returns his attention back to the screen.  

Michael is the one to put the second movie in, because Luke is still sniffling over the ending of the first.  Michael’s not sure if he’s allowed to tease him for it, especially when his own eyes welled up.  He cries over movies pretty easily, and there’s something to be said about the loyalty and love packed into the last piece of the story, something that Michael occasionally wonders if he’ll ever find.

He comes close with Calum, but Calum also has a roommate and boyfriend.  Michael wouldn’t mind another person to love, too.

“I think this one is my least favorite,” Luke says drowsily when Michael presses play.  “Too much Gollum.  He used to give me nightmares as a kid.”

“Really?” Michael asks.  Luke nods.

“That, and the scene in the first one where they’re making the Uruk-hai and they appear from the mud.”

“When I was young, I had lots of nightmares about showing up to school in my underwear and everyone laughing at me.  It would happen once a week.  I started ditching school because it made me too nervous.”

Luke hums.

“I wouldn’t have laughed at you.”

“It was middle school.  Everyone would’ve laughed.”

“Not now,” Luke says.  “I know you now.  I’d wait until I knew you were okay to laugh.”

“Thanks,” Michael says.  Luke nods.   He keeps sinking lower and lower into the blankets, eyelids drooping more every time Michael checks on him.  Michael himself would still be in the middle of his shift at the grocery store on a typical day, and he could keep going for hours.  The relaxed atmosphere they’ve formed might let him clock out early, though.

They watch most of this movie in silence, Luke’s commentary diminishing more and more as the movie wears on.  There are a few times where Michael thinks he’s finally fallen asleep and he should take his leave, but then Luke will shift or say something else.

“Michael?” he asks eventually, voice small and eyes closed.  He’s curled on his side facing him, giving up any pretence of continuing to watch.

“Hm?”

“Will you stay here tonight?”

“Sure,” he says.  Luke smiles and snuggles deeper into the blanket.  His breathing evens out more, slipping seamlessly into sleep.  Michael looks at the way his eyelashes brush his cheeks, savoring the unguarded expression on his face.  He’s almost ethereal like this, as fair and otherworldly as the elves on the tv but twice as captivating.

Michael puts the third movie in once it’s time.  He’s asleep within ten minutes.

-/-

Michael wakes disoriented, tangled in multiple blankets and propped on too many pillows.  There’s noise somewhere near him, someone else shuffling and the rustle of a jacket being put on, but it doesn’t feel out of place.  This person isn’t an enemy breaking in.

“Wha?” he asks, trying to turn towards the noise.

“Sorry, sorry,” Luke murmurs.  “I’m going to try to see if I can get to church.  Go back to sleep.”

Soft fingers brush his hair to the side, lingering.  He leans into the touch before it’s gone.

He rolls over and goes back to sleep.

-/-

The smell of coffee draws him fully out of sleep a while later.  Michael blinks and does his best to detangle himself, sitting up and looking around groggily until he processes Luke standing at the counter, mug in hand.  It’s a sight that Michael could get used to if he was allowed.  He’s in his typical jeans and fancy shirt, a juxtaposition to yesterday, and Michael isn’t sure what that means about the dorky guy who wanted to make a blanket fort rather than the one who always brushed by Michael in the hallway.

He clears his throat.  Luke’s answering grin is wide and familiar.

“Hi,” he says.

“Good morning,” Luke says.  “Afternoon.  Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” he hums.  “Coffee?”

Luke pours another mug, offering Michael cream and sugar.  He brings it over, and this time when their fingers brush over the mug Michael doesn’t feel the need to snatch his hand away.

“How was church?” he asks.

“It was good,” Luke says.  “The plows were out overnight, so I was only a little late.”  He looks down at his mug, fingertip tracing the rim.  “I wish I had been able to go with my family.  It’s fine though.  Mum will probably have us go on Sunday.”

Michael nods.

“I, uh, got a message from the airport, too.  My flight got rescheduled.  I’m going to have to leave in about an hour.”

“Oh,” Michael says.

“Sorry.”

“What?  No, this is a good thing.  I’m glad you get to go home,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound too disappointed.  He had been looking forward to spending part of the day with Luke more than he thought, and to have that taken away from him feels like a punch to the gut.

“Guess we’re going to have to reschedule the video games,” Luke says.

“Yeah.”

“Or,” he says, “we could go on a date?”

Michael gives himself whiplash with how quickly he looks up.

“I, uh, don’t know if you even like guys,” Luke says, “but I’ve had a lot of fun with you, and I’ve always thought you were cute.”

“I thought you didn’t like me until yesterday.”

Luke shrugs.

“I can think you’re hot and be frustrated about it at the same time.”

Michael nods because yeah, that tracks.  Michael has never kidded himself about how nice Luke is to look at, even when he was cursing his name for waking him up with Christmas carols.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah, you agree that you’re hot and frustrating?  Or--”

“Yeah, let’s go on a date.  Or stay in on a date.  Whatever you want.”

Luke grins.  Michael hides his smile behind his cup of coffee, but Luke can probably see it anyway.

“Want some pancakes?” Luke asks.  “We have the leftovers from yesterday.”

“If you can handle heating them up.”

Luke swats at him on the way past and Michael tries to trip him in retaliation.  It almost works, earning him a reproachful look that he responds to with a wink.  Luke ducks his head.

Michael is going to flirt with him so hard in the future.  He can’t wait to see Luke’s face turn different shades of pink.

They have to clean up the blanket fort after breakfast, and by then Luke barely has time to get Petunia ready before needing to leave.  Michael offers to drive him to the airport, but Luke says Petunia rides best in his car, and he’d rather park it at the airport so he doesn’t have to call for a ride home.

Luke walks him to his door, even though it’s only a few feet away.

“Hey,” he says.  “Thanks again for making me pancakes and watching movies with me, and for inviting me in for hot chocolate earlier.  I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad you said yes,” Michael says.  “Let me know when you get back.”

“I will.”

“Have a good time,” Michael says.  “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Michael.”

Luke leans forward and kisses his cheek.  When he steps back, he’s smiling again.  Michael mirrors it and stays standing in front of his door until Luke has disappeared into his.

His apartment feels small and empty after sharing Luke’s for the night.  There’s no pillow fort spread on the floor nor dog lounging on the couch.

Of course, Luke’s apartment will be empty soon, too.  He’ll be with his family, enjoying Christmas day with them, while Michael’s own parents will be without him for the first year since he was born.

He brings out his phone and dials his home number, listening to it ring a few times before someone picks up.

“Michael?  How are you?  Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas Mum,” he says.

“Oh, we miss you, darling,” she says.  “We wish you could be here.  Are you still having an alright time?”

“I actually am,” he says.  “I, uh, was celebrating with someone this morning.  Have I mentioned my neighbor Luke?”

“No, I don’t think you have.  Why don’t you tell me about him?”

Michael gets comfortable on his couch and tells his mother all about spending Christmas with Luke Hemmings.