Take A Walk With Me (One-Shots and More)

Maple Syrup (Merome)

He stumbled into the kitchen, the haze of unconsciousness still clinging to his mind. It hadn't even been ten minutes since he woke up on his floor, having passed out due to low blood sugar, dehydration, and hunger. It was almost ten at night, and he hadn't eaten or drank anything since he got up at seven.

He grabbed a glass and stuck it under the faucet before scouring the cabinets. He found the syrup on a top shelf in the back, an obvious attempt to hide it. Snorting at Jerome's ignorance to the fact he was taller than him, Mitch grabbed it with ease and popped the cap.

He slammed the sink's handle down and grabbed the glass of water, downing it in a couple gulps, despite it being lukewarm. Once he was finished, he slipped the glass back under and turned the water on for a refill. While he waited, he put the top of the syrup bottle to his lips and tilted it back, swallowing as much as he could.

"Really, Mitch?"

The bottle was yanked out of his hands, and tilted upwards so it didn't spill, by Jerome, who stared his boyfriend down.

"Give that back!" Mitch argued, trying to get it back. Shaking his head, Jerome held it just out of his reach.

"No. I know you haven't had anything all day. Go sit down and drink your water - slowly. I'll make you something."

Sullenly, Mitch shut the tap off and took his glass over to the bar, sitting down after sipping on it. Jerome had reached into the freezer, and now pulled out a couple ice cubes and dropped them in the glass.

Mitch muttered his thanks, continuing to sip from his water. Jerome ignored him, opening the fridge and finding what little he could to make a decent meal.

"How'd you know I was out here?" Mitch asked, setting the glass down.

"Bacca senses, Mitch. Don't doubt 'em."

Rolling his eyes, Mitch slumped over and crossed his arms, laying his head down. Jerome smiled slightly at the worn out boy then set a skillet on the stovetop and fired it up.

It wasn't long before Mitch raised his head. Bacon, eggs, and sauteed potatoes were being dished out into a plate. He grinned at the sight. Jerome wasn't a bad chef; in fact, most of the things he cooked were pretty good. Not one of them was five star, though, but it didn't matter.

Jerome set the plate in front of Mitch. "Eat slowly, or you'll make yourself sick."

Nodding, Mitch started eating, but paused after a moment. "Do I get my syrup?"

Jerome sighed and passed it over. "Don't drink that. Use it how it's supposed to be used."

Mitch pouted, looking up at him, trying to get his way. "Please?"

"No."

"Jeroooome..."

"No."

"Come on, please?"

"No."

Sighing, Mitch set the bottle down and turned around, the back of the chair facing the bar. "Then no kisses."

"Fine."

"For a week."

"Alright."

····

And Mitch went through with it.

Rather, he tried to go through with it.

At first, after many pecks on the cheek, jaw, and temple, he used the excuse, "I just meant on the lips!" When he started to assault Jerome's lips with the quick kisses, he said that he was just banning make-outs. However, by Thursday, it seemed as if that rule had dropped.

Lachlan, who had caught a cab from the airport, managed to catch them on Friday. He had been planning on Vlogging and scaring them (Jerome was supposed to pick him up Saturday), but instead, he was greeted by them tangled up with each other on the bar counter.

Laughing, he filmed it all until they pulled away, realizing he was there. Mitch was first to react, pushing Jerome off him and chasing after Lachlan, who ran.

Jerome, on the other hand, was just glad Lachy had taken their "coming out" so well.

"You better not post that!"

"Oi, cunt, who says I shouldn't?"

"Fuck you! Get back here!"

"I'll leave you to your boyfri-- Shit, that hurt!"

"You deserve it, you son of a bitch!"

"And that's when the fight started," Jerome joked as Lachlan dashed past him, hastily shooting a frame behind him to capture Mitch. Lunging, Jerome grabbed his lover's arm and pulled him to a stop.

"He's not worth it, Mitchy," he chuckled, and Mitch relaxed, watching as Lachlan deleted the footage.

"If I don't slit his throat in his sleep, will you give me my syrup back?" Mitch asked. Lachlan paled and looked genuinely terrified.

"Sure."