Page 51 of Game Misconduct

“Yeah?”

“I’ll show you,” Mike said, “exactly what I’ve been thinking about,” and blew him against the door.

Danny came with his hands gripping Mike’s head, because the hair wasn’t quite long enough to pull after all, his fingers digging against the bone of Mike’s skull, and said, “Jesus Christ, what was that for?”

Mike, still on his knees, wiped his mouth on his shirt collar and looked up at him. “Thank you. For coming.”

“Mike, you, uh, didn’t have to blow me as athank-you.”

“Well, I wanted to. And anyway, now we’re even.”

“Even? Do I...want to know?”

Mike accepted his hand and let Danny haul him to his feet, but he looked a little sheepish. “When we first started doing...this... I uh, was keeping track. So you wouldn’t win. And, uh, you were still ahead by one. Now we’re even.”

Danny stared at him, not sure whether he wanted to laugh or shake him. “Mike, you are a beautiful fucking fool, you know that?”

Mike’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Beautiful? Handsome. Hot.Devastating, thank you. Also, I got you flowers.”

Danny noticed, for the first time, that there were indeed flowers on top of Mike’s travel bag, still unpacked. It was an assorted bouquet in a Trader Joe’s wrapper, the blooms a little wilted because they hadn’t been put in water in time. He felt like what he imagined being at sea must feel. Unmoored, like everything had gone topsy-turvy, and he was unable to get his footing. He knew Mike but he was starting to realize he didn’t really know Mike at all. Danny was completely bemused.

“You got me flowers?”

“Yeah. You know, like you said. Flowers, dinner, the whole nine yards. I missed the dinner, but... Got a fucking problem with that, Garcia?”

“Mike, I...”

“Dude, you don’t have to say anything, okay? I’m just glad you’re here.”

Danny, on reflex, gathered him into his arms and Mike went willingly enough, his head resting on Danny’s coat for a minute before he pulled back. “But let’s just sleep, okay? I’m still fucking wiped from that game, and we got a big day tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Danny agreed, because he didn’t want to think about the big day tomorrow.

He followed Mike toward the bedroom, glancing around the apartment as he did. It was the sort of nondescript, bland decoration that he suspected meant it had come pre-furnished, which he wanted to ask about later. There were signs people lived here, of course. There was an Xbox with games strewn about, some pots and pans in the drying rack. But it was devoid of decoration or any of the things that Danny typically associated with Mike. It made him almost sad.

Getting into bed was both awkward and surprisingly not. He hadn’t been sure how Mike would handle it, but he did it as matter-of-factly as he did anything else. Stripped the shirt off, threw it in the corner, pulled the blankets back, and flopped down on the mattress and waited for Danny to undress. There was enough space for both of them, but it had been a long time since he’d actually slept with anyone, and he suspected that it was possible Mike never had. But once they were both lying down, Mike immediately shoved his leg in between Danny’s and pushed himself as close as he could get, and Danny relaxed.

“Can’t believe you left your hell beast,” Mike murmured into his chest.

“I have a cat sitter!”

“Mhm,” Mike said, and yawned. “All right. Igottasleep. My alarm’s set for ten. That okay?”

“That’s fine,” Danny said. His hand was on Mike’s back, tracing over the lines of muscle that shifted beneath the skin as he tried to get comfortable. Eventually Danny had to pull back because his arm was falling asleep and turned over on his other side. His hip and knee ached a little, but he didn’t want to get up and wake Mike, who, still sleeping, had plastered himself against Danny’s back like a barnacle. He fell asleep like that, slightly too warm, but more content than he had been in a while.

Danny woke up, disoriented and a little panicked. It took him a minute to realize that he was awake because sun was streaming through the window at an unfamiliar angle, and that the weird feeling at his back was Mike, still asleep, his erection sandwiched between his stomach and Danny’s ass. And Danny remembered the entire crazy plan Mike had forced him into and felt, at once, terror and a kind of overwhelming warmth.

He shifted out of Mike’s grip and propped himself up on his arm to look down. At some point during the night Mike had kicked the blankets off and his entire body was exposed. Mike moved in his sleep again, his arm thrown over his face, his mouth slack. His lower lip was full and completely healed for once, and Danny thought about biting it. Instead he sat up and looked at the entire stretch of Mike’s chest and ribs and abs, the tattoos that had always fascinated him. They were clearly not planned in any kind of overall order, but the way that he’d added ink in similar styles and had gotten some larger cohesive pieces and connected them with filler just worked. It was a very Mike kind of chaos, and Danny traced his hand over one of them, the wolf with a dagger through its head.

Mike opened his eyes when Danny touched him. They were bleary and unfocused, and his voice was rough with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Eight, but...” Danny leaned forward and slid his hand along the line of Mike’s dick, palming him over the fabric of his boxers.

“Oh,” Mike said, more a sigh than a word. It felt unbearably, uncharacteristically soft for Mike. Then, when Danny shifted so he could get his fingers under the hem,“Oh.”

Danny hadn’t come all the way from Pittsburgh to give him a hand job, although it was kind of nice to watch him pushing up into Danny’s hands, his eyes closed. Still sleepy, relaxed in a bone-deep way he never seemed to be out of bed. He looked down at Mike with a weird, fierce fondness, and then let go of his dick, ignored Mike’s noise of protest, and pulled his boxers down. It bobbed free, and Danny stared again at the contrast between the small amount of skin Mike still had bare and the tattoos where they started below the dark hair that thatched his groin.

“Fuck,” Mike mumbled, when Danny took him in hand again, his thumb pressed against the head. “Danny, come on.”

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