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 Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2016 7:01 pm
He liked Michael’s smiles too much to ever want to let this go.
“How is the weather up there, anyway?” Caspian asked, a teasing note to his voice as his fingers curled around Michael’s. “And remind me the next time it rains to watch you walk through a group of people with umbrellas,” he added, laughing at the imagery. “I suppose there are pros and cons to being short and tall, though I’ve never experienced the former, obviously.”
The gentle nudge to his foot made him smile. “I am pretty good at hide and seek,” Caspian consented with a little nod. “And I always liked to climb trees. Mom used to call me a monkey because I’d just scale them right up.”
He made a zooming motion with his free hand, scuttling fingers up an invisible tree. At some point in time he would have to let go of Michael’s hand, and he let his own slip down with some reluctance, still feeling the cool fingers against his overheated cheek.
“I’ll be fine,” he said, and the offer to carry him made him bite back a smile. He almost said yes.
Almost. But he couldn’t - he couldn’t let Michael continue to spoil him, to treat him this kindly, not when…
Caspian slowly eased himself to his feet, and was reminded, once again, that he only just reached Michael’s shoulder, if that. He curled fingers in the hem of his shirt and looked up at him, feeling slightly dizzy and he wasn’t entirely sure it was all due to feeling sick.
“No,” he said, “But I’ll follow you. Down the stairs, to the right.”
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Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2016 8:02 pm
"A little muggy actually. Heat rises," he made a face as he lowered his hand from where he had it against Caspian's cheek, taking another step away from him as he stood. "You don't want to see me in a crowd with umbrellas. You think I'm grumpy now, but just you wait until I actually hate everyone around me,” he warned with a shake of his head. And even though he’d been the one to suggest it, Michael found it amusing to think about Caspian climbing up trees and playing hide and seek.
“I would say you were probably a handful as a kid, but you’re still a handful now,” he said with a small snort, turning so he could lead the way out of the bedroom, onto the landing, and down the stairs. “And before you start making my life even more difficult, I’m already committed to that challenge of handling whatever you throw, got it?”
And yet, he was fairly confident that he was the one making Caspian’s life more difficult. Especially after the night before. He could still imagine the feel of hands on his face, and that intense look Caspian gave him, silently telling him he wouldn’t just give up on him.
It should be strange, being in Caspian’s house, waking up in his bed with him nestled close enough that Michael could smell the scent of shampoo that lingered in his hair. He should be concerned that he was definitely too old to be hanging out with someone who was barely legal, despite not thinking of him as a kid. Michael was very aware that he was probably doing way too much.
But other than playful banter and teasing back, he was almost certain that Caspian only thought of him as a friend and a mentor. Which he was perfectly okay with, despite the strange pressure in his chest that felt a little like disappointment. Michael Gallo was perfectly capable of just being friends with someone. Someone with deep, soul shattering blue eyes, and kind glances, and gentle touches, and a passion for mischief and teasing, and infectious laughter and smiles.
Michael unconsciously held his arm out as he made his way down the stairs in front of Caspian, as if prepared to catch him should he fall, scowling at himself for thinking of entirely inappropriate things about Caspian, who looked up to him as a mentor and a friend and that was all. That should be all he wanted, anyway. Michael was much too old and already proved himself unstable, emotionally.
“So… you have eggs? Do you feel like that, or…?” he asked, trying to distract himself by figuring out what to cook. “Do you want plain eggs, or an omelette, or I can make something up as I go…”
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Posted: Sun Jul 17, 2016 8:14 pm
Caspian gave a little snort.
“I’d want to see that, actually,” he said with a smile. “And yes, I’ve got it; I promise I’ll do my best not to cause undue stress.”
A part of him was somewhat pleased with the distinction between when you were a kid and now, though the idea that to Michael it probably wasn’t that long ago was a little frustrating. Caspian glanced down at his front, plucking discontentedly at his long-sleeved shirt, deliberately large enough to mask the fact that he was not built like Michael, strong and lean, at all.
A fact made even more clear as he followed Michael down the stairs. Michael had one arm out, as though bracing in case Caspian stumbled, and Caspian’s eyes flickered across his broad shoulders that tapered down into a well-formed torso visible even with his shirt and sweats.
He’d slept in those arms last night.
He wanted to sleep in them again.
“Maybe...maybe an omelette would be good,” said Caspian, resisting the urge to reach out and take ahold of the back of Michael’s shirt. It made him feel off balance, this strange, new sensation; he wasn’t even sure what it was, where it came from, except that all he wanted to do was be closer, and he knew that it was not possible. Even if he was capable of untangling his messy, confusing thoughts, one fact was abundantly clear:
Michael Gallo would never see him as anything more than a friend to mentor.
The kitchen was warm and cozy, early morning sunlight streaming in from the small windows above the sink and the larger one set against the far wall, covered by white curtains with little yellow flowers all over them. Caspian made his way to the fridge and tugged the door open, revealing a surprisingly well-stocked set of shelves, in spite of the fact that he ate like a teenager without money.
“Eggs, bacon, and bread are all in here,” he said, standing aside to gesture at it. “And there’s juice, too.”
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 5:15 am
Now that it was morning, Michael had the chance to take a better look around the kitchen. It was warm and homey, just like he’d determined the night before. It looked much more livable than the almost too clean kitchen in his own house. It probably helped that there were personal touches everywhere, from the curtains to the utensils.
“That’ll work,” he said in agreement, making his way over to the fridge behind Caspian so he could peer in as well, his arm brushing past Caspian’s shoulder as he reached inside to start pulling out what he might need. Eggs, bacon, cheese, and he pulled out the juice Caspian mentioned as well, carefully sliding each item onto the nearby counter as he did so.
“Go sit, I’ll take care of it,” he suggested, gently taking hold of Caspian’s upper arm to guide him away from the main area of the kitchen so he could sit, or stand, while Michael made breakfast. “Unless you mind me going through your stuff. I’m sure I can find what I need,” he said with a concerned frown, realizing that maybe Caspian didn’t want him digging through drawers and cabinets. But he did turn on the oven to preheat in the meantime.
“Do you want anything else in your omelette? Or just cheese? Got any fruit? I’ll be surprised if you don’t, since you’re all about pirates and it’s important to prevent scurvy,” he dryly joked, rolling his eyes at himself.
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 9:02 am
”What if I don’t want to sit?” Caspian asked, just to be contrary; but he was smiling as he let Michael guide him away from the fridge. He leaned closer and pressed his face into Michael’s upper arm, simply because he could, because he was there and he was warm and secure and in his kitchen and it made him happy, even if it also made him slightly sad at the same time.
“I don’t mind at all,” said Caspian, and he pulled away with a small sigh, easing over to the little kitchen table against the wall opposite the window. He slid into a seat and drew his legs up, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees. “Rummage away, to your heart’s delight.”
He tugged absently on the edge of his sleeve, which was long enough that it draped partially over his fingers. The pirate comment made his lips quirk upwards, Caspian tilting his head to smile at Michael.
“No fruit except some strawberries somewhere in the fridge,” he said. “Just cheese is fine, I don’t need much more than that. Maybe a poptart,” he added, just because he knew it would make Michael exasperated.
“Pans are in the cabinet under the stove, by the way.”
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 4:07 pm
Michael paused for a few moments in his rummaging to let Caspian press his face against his arm, frowning at the action, but only because he really did feel a little warm. “You should take some medicine,” he suggested, a small scowl making its way into his expression as he eyed Caspian warily. He felt guilty that it might be partially his fault if he really was getting sick. Or maybe he was just overheated from the summer temperatures.
He waited until Caspian sat down so he could continue preparing their food. He found a rack usually used for cookies and placed it on a cookie sheet he’d covered with foil for easy cleanup, and with the strips of bacon laid out over top of the rack, he stuck it all into the oven to bake. It would be healthier than having the bacon swimming in grease, at least.
“Alright, your majesty. Don’t be surprised if I put poptarts in here, then,” he warned, following Caspian’s instructions and pulling out pans from the cabinet under the stove. The eggs were cracked and mixed, and with some butter to grease the pan, the first omelette was on its way to being completed.
This was… nice in a way that Michael wasn’t used to. A lot of the things he’d experienced while with Caspian was nice, and those were all in ways he wasn’t used to as well. Hadn’t he tried so hard to avoid having anything to do with him?
Why had he turned around that day at the gym when he’d seen him playing volleyball? Why did he not deny Remus’s guess as to who he was, prior to that? He could have pretended he didn’t realize Remus was Caspian before that. He could have turned around and left without saying a word to the young man spray painting a wall. He could have asked anyone else to help him that night during the battle in negaspace.
And now he was in Caspian’s kitchen, cooking him breakfast after spending the night with him. In his room. In his bed. He was much too old for Caspian, he knew that, but he was too drawn in by those smiles and gentle touches.
Michael slid the plates onto the table once he was finished. There was oven cooked bacon and cheese omelettes, and sliced strawberries, and juice, and just because Caspian joked about poptarts, Michael found where he kept them and cut them up to artfully display with the strawberries. He fully intended to clean up once they were done eating, but for now...
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 6:15 pm
”A poptart omelette, that’d be something new,” Caspian mused, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his chin. He gave his head a little shake, half out of amusement, half out of stubbornness. “I don’t need any medicine yet, I don’t think. I’ll be fine, really.”
He wanted to say stop worrying; but he also didn’t want Michael to stop worrying about him, because maybe that would mean that he would think there was nothing else for him to do and it would all be over. Caspian sat there, curled up at the table, and watched as Michael moved around the kitchen, feeling a strange sort of warmth in his chest that seemed to expand outwards until it engulfed him entirely.
Realization - and understanding - were a slow, messy, confusing process, but little by little, moment by moment, he was starting to wonder about why he kept feeling the way he did about Michael. It still didn’t make much sense to him, but small fragments of sweetness were breaking through the convoluted thoughts, making him, at the very least, aware of the small and simple fact that he did not want Michael to go, now or ever.
Maybe it wasn’t so simple after all.
The delicious smell of bacon wafted through the kitchen, mingling with the scent of the eggs. A few moments later, Michael was sliding plates in front of them on the two person table, and Caspian looked down at the decorative display of poptarts and let out a ringing laugh.
“Beautiful,” he declared. “I can see you spent a long time cooking these poptarts exactly at thirteen seconds in the microwave.”
He unfolded his legs and slid them under the table, Caspian reaching for a fork. He felt, strangely, a little breathless at the concept of Michael having actually cooked him breakfast, in his house, after what had happened the night before; breathless and warmly, shyly pleased.
He glanced across the table at Michael, his expression both affectionate and grateful.
“This is...really great,” he said. “Really, Michael. Thank you; you didn’t have to do this, but...thank you.”
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 7:04 pm
The laughter was what he was aiming for. He realized some time ago, although he wasn’t quite sure when, that Caspian’s laughter made him feel light and relaxed. Caspian had a nice laugh. It was genuine in a way Michael wasn’t used to hearing.
Probably because for so long Michael had made himself smile and laugh with little to no meaning behind it. The illusion of being happy faded over time for Michael. Becoming a knight gave him a reason to continue on, but it was difficult to smile, even to fake one, when there were so many horrible things happening with the magical war too many were swept up in. He’d stopped trying to pretend after those nightmares of the future haunted his thoughts. Maybe even before that.
But here was Caspian, still somewhat new to being a senshi, still with some hopefulness inside him and a resolve to keep fighting no matter what, even if no one really understood why they were fighting. His laughs were still pure, and Michael knew he wanted to protect that. To keep him smiling and laughing if he could help it.
Michael took his place across from Caspian, and was in the process of cutting a piece of the omelette to eat, when he heard Caspian’s expression of gratitude, and looked up at him. Once again, Caspian was looking at him in a way that surprised and confused him, and he stared, mouth partially open from being in the process of taking a bite of food, his eyes slightly wider than usual.
It was those eyes that got him, making him feel breathless and caused his stomach to twist. Or maybe it was more like a flutter. The rest of Caspian’s expression was soft and warm, but anyone could fake their expression. This look Caspian gave Michael reached his blue eyes; eyes that seemed to shift color ever so slightly in the different lights.
“Damn it…” he breathed, shaking his head and forcing himself to look away when he realized he was obviously staring back at Caspian. “Don’t say it like that. You don’t have to thank me,” he grumbled, stabbing a piece of bacon a little more ferociously than he intended and watching it crumble a little, embarrassed that he could feel the heat rise in his cheeks.
“Don’t look at me like I did something great. It’s just breakfast,” he scowled, more upset that he was thrown off by that look he was given than anything else. “Of course I had to do this. I wanted to. And we’re friends, aren’t we? It’s what friends do…”
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 7:45 pm
He wasn’t aware of how he looked at Michael, wasn’t consciously doing anything but smiling at him; if he had known just how he looked, he probably would have been mortified, but as it was, Caspian simply could not quite express in words just how he felt at present.
Michael’s blue eyes were fixed on his, and for a moment Caspian felt slightly breathless. Even with the scowl that followed a moment later, it was familiar in a way that made him smile, that made him feel all warm and fluttery inside in a way that he did not want to lose.
We’re friends, aren’t we? It’s what friends do.
The words slid through Caspian like ice, dousing the warmth.
You made me breakfast, he thought, an elbow on the table and his chin propped up in his free hand. His other still held the fork, poised over his breakfast, relaxed, even if Caspian felt anything but. You made me breakfast, and you held me last night, and you took care of me before. You stitched me up and you let me stay with you even though you didn’t want to, and now here we are, in my kitchen, and I can’t understand why it is that I don’t want you to say that we’re just friends. We are friends.
So why does it feel this way when you say it out loud?
Caspian gave a small shake of his head and looked down at his plate, biting into a piece of perfectly cooked bacon.
“It is great,” he said lightly. “No one’s ever cooked for me before. Or arranged poptarts so artfully,” he added, grinning across the table at Michael.
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 8:32 pm
The tension was uncomfortable. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't see Caspian react, but he could tell that something had shifted in the atmosphere of the room. He couldn't tell what it was, or what he could do to fix it, or if he should just continue to miserably pick at the food on his plate.
"I told you I would," he mumbled, finally taking a bite if only so he would have an excuse not to say something. He couldn't bring himself to look Caspian in the eye for some reason. Maybe he was afraid of what he would see.
He ate in silence for a little while, before finally glancing up at Caspian as he sat across the table from him. It was still strange to him, being in his house. The night before. All of it. There was something he didn't quite understand that wouldn't let him pull away like he knew he should.
Caspian needed to find someone else to make him happy. Michael knew that the longer he was around, the more miserable Caspian would become. It was only a matter of time. Caspian would regret it.
"Besides..." he said quietly, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly to try and calm himself. "It takes some skill to do that," he nodded towards the poptarts. "I'm an engineer, after all."
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Posted: Mon Jul 18, 2016 8:49 pm
He hated the awkwardness; Caspian could feel it, even if he knew the majority of it was because of him. Swallowing the bacon, he washed it down with a glass of juice and went to work on the omelette - which was just as perfectly cooked as the bacon. Michael really was a very good cook, and Caspian was more than a little appreciative of this fact.
Even if he was acting ridiculous.
“Your engineering skills are a work of art,” Caspian declared, gesturing at them. “I can see you’re putting your knowledge to good work.”
He was silent for a few moments while he ate - but then Caspian lowered his fork, his expression troubled. He was looking at his plate, but after a second, his gaze rose slowly to meet Michael’s, his chest feeling too tight.
“You know you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, right?” he said quietly, and he knew it might be too much for him, knew the cost of what he was saying - but the words were forcing themselves out anyway, clogging his throat as he tried to make sense of everything. “You’re not just a mentor to me, you’re...more than that, you’re…”
He looked away, slightly frustrated at his inability to communicate properly, Caspian’s eyes back on his plate, fingers curling around his fork.
“I know you’re...older than me,” he said, with a slight grimace. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I think you’re still the only person I trust right now and I just...really appreciate that. And you.”
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Posted: Tue Jul 19, 2016 5:18 am
Michael saw when Caspian paused in eating, and he glanced up to see what he was doing, only for their eyes to meet. The expression on Caspian's face was enough to make Michael's heart ache. He looked lost, as if he was trying to hold onto what little he had, but what that was... Michael was afraid to know.
He was afraid he wouldn't be able to give Caspian what he wanted, what he needed. And he hated failing in doing something, so sometimes it was easier not to bother.
And yet... the words that came from Caspian's mouth, they startled him. He remembered Caspian telling him on the boat that he never really had friends before, or at least none who were truly friends. But something about Caspian telling him that he was the best friend he ever had...
More than that... you're...
Michael could feel the breath catch in his chest as he stared at Caspian from across the table. More than what? He wasn't just a mentor to him...? Did he mean that he was just... a really good friend or...?
No, he had to be over thinking it. Caspian didn't go into detail. He didn't mean what it sounded like he meant. Caspian trusted him. That must be it. He was more than just a mentor because he was someone Caspian trusted.
Michael lowered his eyes when Caspian did, feeling tense and unsure of everything. He wasn't used to feeling unsure about things. Probably because he avoided things that made him feel unsure. He didn't like it. And he didn't understand why he wanted so badly for things to be... more than what he was making it to be...
"I haven't had a friend like you in a long time," he admitted quietly, guiltily, staring down at the plate of food and pushing the poptart pieces and strawberries around with his fork. "I didn't really want friends. I didn't want to be your friend."
Michael shifted uncomfortably and glanced up at Caspian, his expression sad and confused even if he didn't mean it to be. He didn't know what Caspian meant by him being 'more than that' but he knew he felt more fond of and trusted Caspian more than he probably should. It was dangerous.
He hesitated, not wanting Caspian to think that he was trying to make his life sound worse or make it seem as though Caspian's experiences didn't matter, because they did. But he wanted Caspian to understand that he trusted him too, and just saying he trusted him didn't seem enough to make a difference.
"The last close friend I had, when I was in the Navy, died from his injuries," he said so quietly that it was almost a whisper, but only because his throat was suddenly too tight to let him say it any louder. "I haven't really tried making friends since..."
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Posted: Wed Jul 20, 2016 9:29 am
He knew that Michael had not wanted to be his friend; that he had done everything he could to push him away, and yet he had stopped that. Instead of continuing, he had let Caspian stay, he had let him continue to try and make things work, even if it wasn’t something that he was used to. Michael had made a huge sacrifice in trusting him, Caspian realized; he had opened himself up, changed everything that he was used to simply because he had wanted something different - because Caspian had wanted something different.
The last close friend I had died from his injuries.
Caspian wasn’t aware of moving, but he had, pushing himself up. There was a scrape as his chair was pushed back, and he was leaning across the table, Caspian’s hand searching out Michael’s, fingers wrapping around his wrist. It was an instinctive gesture; there seemed to have been something comforting in each one of them feeling out the pulse that beat beneath the skin, and Caspian did so now, turning his hand so that Michael’s fingers were pressed to the inside of his wrist as well.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his chest aching at the expression on Michael’s face. “I’m sorry, Michael, I didn’t know.”
The walls around him were crumbling, however slowly; Michael was letting him in, piece by piece, fragment by fragment, little bits of knowledge about himself steadily becoming more and more realized. It was a process that took time and effort and patience, but Caspian had already waited; he would wait, he knew, as long as it took for Michael to finally let go.
He slowly sank back down into his seat, but kept his grasp on Michael’s wrist, Caspian’s heart fluttering as he pressed his lips together. The smile he offered was gentle, tender as it was directed towards him.
“You have me,” he said quietly. “You have me, Michael, and you won’t lose me. I won’t let you.”
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Posted: Wed Jul 20, 2016 7:49 pm
You can't promise something like that.
A promise to not leave; Michael knew he would be a fool to believe that a simple promise would be enough to keep anyone there, to keep Caspian there. To prevent or even delay their death. Michael knew very well that there was no promise strong enough that would ever stop that if something happened.
And even though the words were on his lips, he held himself back. Why, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was the look on Caspian's face or the way his hand gripped onto his wrist, holding onto him as though giving him something to anchor to. He could feel the beat of Caspian's heart beneath his fingers as he returned the gesture, his own hand secure around Caspian's wrist.
He wanted, so badly, to trust him and believe that Caspian, who was reckless and impulsive and carefree, would stay with him.
But it was more than that, he realized. He wanted more than just this gentle friendship and trust and quiet understanding. And Caspian even acknowledged that he knew Michael was older... so did that mean he was okay with... whatever they were getting themselves into?
"It's okay," he said softly, his grip on Caspian's wrist tightening as if to steel himself. "I just... wanted you to know, I guess. I... haven't told anyone else." His father might suspect, but he couldn't have known how close their friendship was.
He looked up at Caspian and that soft smile and felt breathless again. Caspian had given a lot to put up with him, he knew. Michael knew he was hardly easy, and yet Caspian hadn't given up on him yet.
"I know," he said softly, even though he was still frowning a bit, but the sadness had abdicated for the time being. "I know I'm stuck with you, whether I like it or not.”
Michael paused for a moment, and let out a breath, his lips twitching into a small smile.
“But I like it. And I appreciate everything you've done for me, too. And you.”
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Posted: Wed Jul 20, 2016 9:52 pm
He wanted to do so much more.
He wanted to reach across the table and pull Michael into his arms, to hold him the way that Michael had held him, reminding him that he was not alone anymore; that there was someone else here for him, with him. But Caspian sat there quietly without moving, gripping Michael’s wrist securely and letting him feel the too-fast beating of his heart beneath the tender skin.
I know I’m stuck with you, whether I like it or not.
But I like it.
It felt like the air in the room was too thick to breathe properly. Caspian’s eyes fluttered, his face steadily turning pinker, and for a few seconds he was breathless. The fingers that were pressed against Michael’s pulse trembled slightly, and he opened his mouth to say - something, he didn’t know what, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Just - just so you know,” he managed to get out, Caspian tripping over what he was trying to say, his heart beating too fast for his chest. “I don’t - I don’t care how old you are. You’re still...important to me, and you’re stuck with me and I’m stuck with you and I’m...I’m okay with that.”
His grip tightened a little, and he knew that the age difference was something fragile between them; that Michael would not ever see this as more than what it was - a friendship - but it was suddenly terribly important that he understand Caspian’s lack of judgment.
“I still like you, no matter what age you are,” he said, swallowing hard, and he meant as a friend, as a mentor, as...no, just as those two. Just as those two, that was all, that was -
Caspian forced a smile, trying to get his heartbeat under control. After a few seconds, it became easier, and he looked up at Michael with a soft expression in his eyes.
“So feel free to, you know,” he said lightly, “Stick around or something. I guess I’ll be here. Or something.”
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