Page 58 of Game Misconduct

Danny made a noise that was half a laugh and half a groan and fell back down on top of him, his weight more comforting than it should have been. “I think we gotta wait for a bit, babe.”

Mike wrinkled his nose. “A’ight, old man.”

“I think I’m acquitting myself pretty well,” Danny said, like he knew exactly why Mike was saying it and didn’t care. “Didn’t hear any complaints from you earlier.”

He couldn’t help the shiver that moved over his shoulders when he thought about it, knew Danny could feel it, knew Danny knew he was right. “Fuck you,” he said, into Danny’s mouth, because Danny was kissing him again.

They spent most of the rest of the day like that, a seamless shift from the everyday shit: taking a shower, because holy fuck he was disgusting, to talking to making out to realizing they were ravenously hungry and ordering takeout to fucking again. In the evening Mike was flopped on the couch with his head in Danny’s lap while Danny had his legs propped up on the coffee table. He was sort of but not really watching a movie because he was distracted by the way Danny’s fingers were combing absently through his hair, by the little shiver of pleasure that zipped up his spine every time Danny’s fingernails scratched along his skull.

It took him a minute to realize that the warmth that he was feeling in his chest and his stomach and the way he didn’t feel fidgety at all was because he was happy, like really fucking happy, in a way he could barely remember ever feeling, and that thought made him tense up, suddenly self-conscious.

Of course Danny felt it.

“Mike?”

“I—sorry, I was just thinking about stuff.”

“Yeah?”

Mike dug his teeth into his lip because he felt embarrassed about it, didn’t want to say anything. Like: it seemed really weird to say,you make me really happy, just out of nowhere.

Instead, he said, “Um, thanks for taking me to meet your family. I’m glad you took me, but also...that they knew we’re—” They weren’t dating, andfuckingseemed like the wrong word too, wasn’t enough to describe the shit knocking itself around Mike’s head. “You weren’t worried?”

Danny shrugged and Mike was kind of glad they weren’t looking at each other. His fingers didn’t stop moving, thumb stroking over Mike’s temple. “I came out to Celi when I was fourteen. My parents figured it out when I was sixteen. Bisexuality was never really a big deal for them, you know? They were always more concerned I was dating good people. I knew once they met you it’d be fine.”

“Your sister was the first person I ever...you know.” What Mike didn’t say was:dating? Really?What Mike didn’t say was:I did it for youorI’m still really fucking worried about you, dude. What Mike didn’t say was:I don’t think my parents would be that chillorthey might be okay but honestly I’m too scared to find out.

Danny didn’t say anything but his fingers tightened around Mike’s head, where his hand was resting. “I’m uh... I’m glad you told her. I’m glad you made me fly out here.”

Mike’s chest was doing that thing where it felt like his ribs were going to split open with the force of the feelings he could not put into words. It was too much, especially knowing he only had another day of Danny being here before it was over. “Yeah, well. Fuck you.”

He couldn’t see Danny’s face, but he could hear the smile in his voice. “Okay, babe.”

“Yeah?”

Danny turned off the TV, and that was the only answer Mike needed.

On Thursday morning, Danny packed up his shit fairly early in the morning but let Mike talk him into spending most of the rest of the day in and out of bed because apparently Mike turned him into the worst version of his teenaged self. A hair-trigger erection and a refractory period that was frankly almost obscene. He was sore and exhausted and his hips and back and knee were screaming at him by the end of the long break, but it was like both of them knew this would be the last opportunity like this they’d have for who knew how long.

He had to make the most of it.

He had made the most of it.

He needed to catch a cab to the airport. It was seven thirty, and he really needed to get going. But every attempt he made to head for the door Mike would catch him by the wrist, ask something like,you sure you remembered your phone chargerand they’d end up making out for another fifteen minutes, which was rapidly adding up to minutes he didn’t have. He was incapable of saying no to Mike, though, and so when Mike got down on his knees and blew him one last time, he just let it happen, eyes closed and fingers tangled in Mike’s hair, finally long enough to pull.

After Danny came, Mike lurched to his feet and pressed him against the door, mouth warm and salty, still tasting not unpleasantly of come, kissing him even while Danny was trying to shove his dick back in his pants, and Danny thought with a kind of sharp, horrible melancholy,goddamn, I love you.

Eventually, reluctantly, he disentangled himself and said, “Mike, babe, I really gottago,” and Mike had relented, his face red. The way he’d needed it, needed Danny, even when he was embarrassed by the things he wanted. God, it was really fucking hard to leave him.

Danny was aware that he was a fucking idiot, but he couldn’t really help it. Not when Mike was Mike. Not when Danny loved him, not when this was the absolute worst time in his life to fall in love with anybody, especially someone like Mike. Someone who needed careful handling and stability, someone who needed things Danny wasn’t going to be capable of giving him in the long run. Someone whose halting, awkward trust Danny sure as fuck didn’t deserve.

Mike didn’t drop him off at the airport, because there was still the risk of someone seeing them, the kind of attention neither of them wanted, so the goodbye at Mike’s door was the last time Danny saw him. Danny looked over his shoulder as he went down the hall of Mike’s apartment building, and saw him standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his dark eyes bored into Danny’s back, and Danny was overwhelmed with everything that had happened to him that weekend, and looked away because if he didn’t, he wasn’t going to make his flight.

He was going to go back in there, get down on his knees, and do something fucking stupid.

He didn’t do anything stupid.

It wasn’t until he was going through security that he realized how little he’d had to drink that entire weekend, because he’d been so busy with Mike, because he’d been scared shitless that if he told Mike how much he’d wanted to drink, Mike would try to pry into the parts of his life that were best kept a secret. His hands were shaking a little. He couldn’t tell if it was emotion or something else.

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