what do we do now? [muke af]

fifteen

fifteen

Luke unpacked their dirty clothes, throwing them into the laundry hamper to deal with tomorrow. He could hear Michael humming a tune in the shower, he was obviously happy to be home.

Tab was fast asleep, the long day of traveling wiping her out.

Luke was in a fine mood, he was satisfied and content. It was good to see his parents after so long: It felt like taking off a band aid off a paper cut.

He closed the suitcase, pushing it to the top of their closet. He knew they wouldn't be using it for a long time. The state let Michael have those few days, but that was as lenient as they were going to get.

Michael left the bathroom, an off-white towel hanging low on his hips. Luke turned his back to him, starting to strip of his own clothes and change to pajamas.

"That was awful," Michael stated. He dropped his towel, growing through their bureau for fresh boxers.

"What was?"

"The entire weekend."

Luke pulled on a tee shirt, not bothering with shorts. "Hm, I had a good time."

"I don't know why you made me do that." The insecure side that Luke saw of Michael for a solid five minutes the other day was long gone. That insecurity turned into anger, and it was time for it to break.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Luke crossed their room, getting between the sheets. He reached over their night table, grabbing a library book to read before bed. He opened to the bookmarked page, turned a few pages before to catch up.

"Can you stop being, like, a bitch, please?"

"I'm not going to feel sorry for you, Michael," Luke said without hesitation, "I'm sorry you had a bad weekend, but I didn't."

Michael pulled on shorts, a grey tee shirt already upon his shoulders. "I don't remember you being such a priss."

"Okay, Mike."

"Can you fucking look at me when I'm talking?"

Luke looked up, a bored tone underneath his light eyes. Michael's eyes were much different. They were dark with built up rage, a glow behind them that Luke knew far too well. "What do you want?"

"I want you to be a good husband for once in your life and actually care!" Michael took a step forward, his chest puffed out and veins bulging.

Luke hid his fear. "Okay." He didn't argue, he never argued when Michael was like that.

Luke knew that he was a good husband. He waited around ten years for Michael to come home. He waited on his hands and knees for that troubled man. Luke knew that he did everything in his own capability to deal with Michael and accept Michael for everything he was.

Luke didn't need his husband's approval.

"I miss who you were," Michael spit out.

The younger boy trailed his eyes back down to his book, trying to read over the page he swore he already read.

"Ignoring me, again? Cute."

Luke kept his jaw locked and eyes down. He didn't need to react, Michael lived for a reaction.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he swore. Michael rounded their room, exiting and slamming the bedroom door. He lived to see the slight glance up Luke took, he lived to see the fear in his lover's eyes, he lived to see the slight jolt as he tried not to cower away.

Luke listened closely, making sure Mike was going further away. He could hear him downstairs, and that was fine.

As long as he and Tab were safe, Luke didn't care.