start a fight [muke af]

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Luke shook the hand of Michael's future patrol officer before sitting back down, pushing the cushioned chair closer to the wood table. Ashton sat next to him, his hands crossed over many files.

The new patrol officer, a bulky man named Rick, sat at the head of the meeting table, his own files in front of him.

Michael was across from Luke, his green eyes scanning the meeting room he hasn't been in since his first few days in prison.

His mother was next to the inmate, her nervous hands twisted a few rings around her own fingers, finicking with them constantly.

Luke and Mike made eye contact, the younger boy giving him a smile before looking back at the patrol officer.

"So, Michael," the man started, "You've been in here for ten years, correct? You've been in a total of seventy-eight fights, that's gotta be a record."

Luke knew that Michael wanted to fight Rick, the blonde could just sense Mike's blood already boiling.

"You realize you can't do that once you're out of here, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Michael spat, his hands clutching into fists underneath the table.

"Just making sure!" He defended, reaching over to grab one of Ashton's files. "What's your plan for when you're out of here?"

The inmate leant against the table, his elbows bent as he rested his head against his hands. "I don't know. I figure I should do something with boxing so I can legally fight. I could own, like, a legal fight club."

"A legal fight club?" Ashton repeated, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Have you see Fight Club?" Michael asked, sitting up as he mentioned his favorite movie. "It's fucking lit, Dude."

"Of course I've seen Fight Club, the main point of Fight Club was that it's all illegal," Sergeant responded. "Ms. Clifford, don't you have other plans for your son?"

She sighed, looking between Michael and Ashton. "I mean, he's twenty-eight, as long as he stays out of prison, then I'm okay with it."

Mike smiled to himself, glad to have his mother on his side. "I'm not gonna go, like, cut off someone's balls, I'm just gonna punch some shit. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with that," Rick responded, writing down a summary of Michael's plans on a sheet of paper. "What else are you gonna do? You're gonna work/own some legal fight club, what else?"

Michael looked down at his lap, his eyes tracing his tattooed thumbs. "I'd like to get married, maybe have a kid. Just get my life together, do what all my friends from high school are doing."

"What're your friends from high school doing?" The patrol officer asked, the blue pen in his hand still writing quickly.

"They have their own wives and kids, they're happily living their lives. I know I'm gonna be staying with Mom for a bit, but that's not permanent." Mike spoke with such hope for the future and, yeah, it made Luke really, really happy.

Ms. Clifford reached over, resting her cold, manicured hand on top of her son's. "If you have to stay with me for the rest of your life, you're welcome to. You know that, right?" She looked up at him, knowing she could read him better than anyone else.

"Yes, Mom," he said with a smile, "I know." He turned his head towards Luke, giving him another glance. Their eyes met and an atomic bomb went off in Luke's stomach.

"Where do you see yourself in ten years?" Rick asked, turning a page in the file.

"Happy, married, successful. Not in here."

Luke sat back in his chair trying not to fidget too much. He could imagine his and Michael's life together. They weren't allowed to leave the state of Arizona for a decade since Michael's a convicted felon, but they could get married somewhere cool.

Not Las Vegas, that's too unoriginal.

They'd take a road trip around the state, enjoying the presence of each other. They'd buy a house in the suburbs, raise a kid or two, maybe a few cats.

Luke could imagine rolling over every morning to Michael. The tattooed man would always sleep later than Luke. He'd have soft snores leaving his throat, his mouth open the tiniest bit. Luke could trace his features every morning, not understanding how he got so lucky.

The nineteen-year-old pulled himself from his creepy thoughts. What if someone could read his mind? What if someone just heard him marrying the man across from him? Is that weird?

He moved around in his seat once more, trying to pull his mind back into the conversation happening in front of him. He crossed his legs, pushing his chair in once more. Luke ignored the glare from his boss, knowing he was getting irritated by Luke's constant movement.

Michael reached out his legs, the toe of his boots sliding against Luke's ankles. Mike had long legs, making it perfect to bother Luke with.

The blonde looked up, giving Michael a look.

He smiled, reaching further until his feet reached Luke's shins, slowly moving down once more.

Luke kicked him, knowing the three other adults wouldn't notice them. He felt like a child, and he loved it.

Fuck, he loved Michael.