it's me [muke af]

d is for dangerous//arctic monkeys

d is for dangerous//arctic monkeys

Luke and Michael were standing in the color section of their local hardware store. Michael was leaning closer to the reds, picking out paint swabs. "I think like a fire red could be really fucking cool."

Luke kicked him softly. "Sh, we're in public." He turned back to his phone, scrolling to the top of his emails and refreshing the page. 

Mike rolled his eyes before picking a few colors. "What color do you want?"

"It doesn't really matter, Babe." His notification bar popped up with a new message from Jack, and Luke debated opening it or not. It could either be something innocent about work, or a dick pic. There is no in between with Jack. "I'm gonna go find the tape. How about you go get some samples?"

Michael nodded, only half listening. He loved paints and art and colors. He loved everything. 

From / Jack

What're you up to today? Come over later, I miss you.

Luke looked at his screen, he was biting his lip as he thought of a response. He shouldn't go over, he needs to stop whatever they have. He's a married man with two kids and another on the way and he knows he shouldn't be screwing around. 

To / Jack

Helping Mike paint the baby's room today. Be over at 11. 

He closed his phone and wandered around the aisles looking for tape and new paint rollers. The aisles were tall and dark, made Luke feel claustrophobic. He picked up a few needed items, dumping them into the plastic cart. 

Michael picked his favorite three reds, asking the man at the desk to get him a few samples of the color. He loved these stores, he loved the tall aisles filled with everything a painter could even want. 

It was hours later when they were finally prepared to paint. The borders were covered with a blue painters tape, the wooden floors had a covering over the spaces closest to walls. 

"What should we do first?" Luke asked, looking at the ground. There were bins of the final color they chose—a deep red with tints of orange—along with many brushes. 

"Music," Michael responded. He left the room in a swift motion, coming back with his laptop. He laid it on the empty ground in the center before pressing shuffle on a playlist. An Arctic Monkeys song came, and Luke knew every line. 

The paint lid popped off as the two men poured it into the longer container. Luke dipped the paint roller into it, while Michael grabbed the smaller brush. "You've got a steady hand, so you start on the borders. I'll do the bigger space," Luke planned out what they were going to do. 

Michael was all giggly when he looked over his shoulder to see his lover doing exactly what Mike loved. He loved painting—even if it was just a bedroom—and he liked to see a smile on Luke's face. 

He looked down at his belly, it was growing every day. He knew he was gaining weight with all the extra meals he's been filling up on. He was excited for the addition, regardless of the pain he knew he'd soon be going through. 

Mike leant down, getting closer to the border. "So, how's work?" He made small talk, hoping to overcome the fairly quiet room. 

"It's fine. Stressful. We have more artists on the top charts than we have before, which only adds to the stress," Luke answered. 

"I miss working at the company," Michael admits. "It was just always so much fun, a new adventure every day."

Luke sighed. "It's not like that anymore. We aren't that little record company that scouts at local bars anymore, I wish we still were." When Jack and Luke started their record company, their goal was to find musicians like them. They wanted to find dedicated and persistent people who had a love for a heavy chord progressions and too deep lyrics. Michael came along, giving them a second opinion on every single person they watched perform. 

Then their first artist hit the charts, which followed with every other musician they signed. They had a golden touch, and everyone wanted more from them. They grew out of their basement studio, their team of three wasn't enough. 

"Those were the days," Mike said.

"We aren't dying, don't make it seem like that." Luke took a step back, looking at the solid red wall in front of him. 

Mike was still doing the bottom border of the further wall with a careful, slow hand. "How's Jack? I haven't seen him in forever."

"He's fine. I might have to go to work to help him out with work stuff a bit later," Luke blatantly lied. He knew what he was doing was wrong on so many levels. He was cheating on his pregnant husband, he felt like he was cheating on his family. But, it was too much.

Luke felt like he was simply waiting around for Ashton or Calum to show up out of the blue. He was anxious, he was a wreck. He's always been a wreck.

Luke kept his promise to his coworker. He showed up at his doorstep two minutes after eleven. The night was dark, and his eyes were too. 

They spent hours between the sheets with bowed backs and symphony moans. Jack left marks in the shape of his burning lips upon the pale body of Luke, whispering words of lust every chance he had. 

Luke let him. He let the older man straddle his waist and pin his hands above his head. He let him take him into the night without a single regret. 

(a/n) sozzzz