breathing [muke af]

vous l'avez fait

vous l'avez fait

“Wake up,” Luke whined, poking Michael cheek. Luke was in one of Mike’s tees and it was obvious from the way it laid loose on his body yet tight on his shoulders. 

“No,” Michael moaned, keeping his eyes shut tightly. 

“You have to wake up.”

“Don’t tell me how to run my life.” Michael rolled over, his back now facing Luke. He curled into fetal position, falling into a restful sleep quickly.

Luke rolled his eyes, pushing the sheets off of his body. He slid his feet over the side, standing up to stretch out, letting out a few non-human sounds. He didn’t like the constant sand-colored wood in every flooring of the house. If he was the designer, he would have put carpet in the bedrooms. 

Sometimes, Luke will find himself wondering what Mike’s and his future home would look like. A house or apartment? One-story or two? Carpet or wood? Colorful or modern? He’s not even sure he’s dating Michael, but he’s quick to imagine a life with him.

Luke headed down the stairs. The sunlight was reflecting off of the snow, causing him blindness as he trotted around the front hall. The clock on the stove read 12:10 p.m., and that made him smile. Michael made him lazy, which wasn’t always a bad thing. 

His life is constantly moving around, always trying to plan but still float. Michael was one of the few things that holds him down, making sure he doesn’t float too far from Earth. 

Luke opened and closed some cabinets, looking for something to make for breakfast. Is it even breakfast? The blonde sat on top of the counter, debating if it was too early to make ramen noodles (that was all he knew how to make). 

His stomach wasn’t grumbling, and he kind of wanted to go back to bed. But, he knew, if he laid down in those sheets, he will not move again until tomorrow morning. He kicked at the cabinets with the back of his feet softly, not really deep in thought, just in thought. 

Luke eyes wandered around the counter, snooping through some papers. There were bills, magazine, donation forms. Gross adult things that Luke pretends he doesn’t have to deal with. One paper caught his eyes, Michael’s messy signature at the bottom. Luke picked the packet of papers from the corner.
It took him a few moments to realize it was divorce papers, he was actually doing it. The blonde smiled, looking up at no one in particular. He put the papers down, jumping off the counter with a thud. His socks slid against the floor, causing him to fall against the other counter. 

Michael figured it must be the cat as he heard the noises downstairs. He closed his eyes again. “Wait, I don’t have a cat,” he said to himself, opening his eyes and sitting up, ready to go be the father he is and investigate. 

Luke came barreling into the room, jumping on the bed and into Mike’s lap. His hands gripped the side of Michael’s face, leaving slobbery kisses all over his cheekbones and nose. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated over and over again, holding tighter to Michael as his mouth left his face and went towards his neck. 

Michael leant back down, his head falling against the pillows as he let his maybe-boyfriend smother him with kisses, “I love you too, I love you too,” Mike laughed, trying to push Luke off of him. 

“You signed the papers,” Luke explained between more kisses. 

Michael put his palms flat on Luke’s shoulders, pushing him into sitting position. Luke straddled Michael’s hips, licking his—now—dry and swollen lips. “What papers?”

“The papers.”

Michael caught on, “Yeah, I told you I would.”

Luke took a deep breath, leaning his back against Michael’s bent legs, “I didn’t know you actually would.”

Mike sighed, connecting their hands and raising them higher. He traced around the nail of Luke’s finger, “I told you I was serious about us.”

Luke smiled, he smiled and couldn’t stop. 

(a/n) double update