the sound, settle down [mashton af]

// o n e //

Well I know when you're around cause I know the sound/ I know the sound, of your heart

Ashton just knew when Michael walked in the door of the hectic, lively restaurant. There was something in his heart that pulled a little more or pumped a bit faster or maybe it was all in his head.

He saw Michael, though, for the first time in a long, long time.

Mike had his hair bleached to a blonde, any natural brassy color was long gone from the short strands of hair. Michael still has the same cocky smile, though. It was the smile that drew Ashton in long before tonight.

"Hey there," he said, sliding into the booth. Mike faced Ashton, his persona so much more confident than the last time they spoke.

"Wow, hey," the other man responded, astonished by his ex-lover, "You look fantastic, Dude."

Michael was taken back by the thirty-year-old's use of 'dude'. "Uh, yeah. You, too."

Ashton really looked at Michael, from his dress shirt a little unbuttoned to his slacks a little stained. He obviously had a long day at the law firm, his twenty-nine year old brain working too hard. "You're doing well, I suppose."

"Doing great, actually," he flaunted, "I bought out a fourth of the firm a few years ago, hoping to buy out all of it within the next decade." Michael picked up the paper menu in front of him, he squinted his eyes at the small font. The dim candle light between them didn't help him much.

Ash silently laughed to himself. Michael never changed. He'd never, ever remember his glasses. "You're making the big bucks now, huh?"

Mike nodded as he flipped over the menu. "I guess so. It took a bit to pay off all those student loans, though." Michael tried not to look up, he didn't want to look into those golden eyes because he knew he'd fall into Ashton's touch. "What're you getting for dinner? I'm starving."

"I don't know, something fattening probably." Ashton reached over to his iced water, spinning the black straw around the lid. "Is Timothy doing good?"

Michael sighed as a quick web of thought flew through his brain. "Is that why you brought me here? To talk about my son?" He tsked, putting down his menu and crossing his hands. "We cannot talk about this without a lawyer present."

"I want to see my son, Michael."

Michael shook his head. "I got full custody of him seven years ago. You lost that privilege." He raised an eyebrow, switching on his professional persona. He hated to do this to Ashton, he hated that he couldn't have a good conversation with his ex-lover anymore.

Ashton pouted out his lower lip, hoping to drive Michael insane. "Mikey," he drew out the petname.

Michael shook his head again. "I will get up and leave right now, Ashton." He felt in his pocket, ready to pull out a wad of cash and leave the table.

He knew Ashton wasn't really doing well and was going to give him a bit of cash to hold him over regardless. Michael never filled the prominent soft spot in his heart where Ashton sat for too long.

Ashton took a deep inhale, in through the nose and out through the mouth. "I'm clean now. I'm not a junkie anymore. Tim is a teenager now, I want to be in his life."

"We may not have this conversation without a lawyer present," the firm man said once more.

"You're a lawyer," Ashton pointed out, "Can't you talk about it?"

Michael tried not to laugh at the way Ash twisted his words. "It's illegal for me to work on my own case. Bias and all that garbage."

The two paused as their waitress came around. She took their orders than their menus, leaving with a promise to be back.

Ashton looked at Michael and Michael looked at Ashton. Mike was first to break eye contact as he looked down at his fingers. He chipped at the dry, peeling skin around his thumb, not sure what to say.

"You're really not going to let me see my son?"

"He's not legally your son, first of all," Michael heartlessly pointed out. "Second, I can't. It's in the agreement that you signed almost ten years ago."

Ashton clenched his jaw as he tried not to be too hurt. "Wow, don't hold back, man." He leant against the cushioned seat of his side of the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. "I will never be on the same level as you, but I'm trying."

"How do I know that?" Michael asked. "You've lied to me before, how do I know you're not lying now?"

Ash didn't respond. His shoulders slumped and he looked down at his lap. There wasn't a way to prove that he was wasn't bullshitting, Ashton himself wasn't sure if he was telling the truth.

Mike waited a solid sixty seconds before scuffing. "Exactly, Ashton." He took out his phone, unlocking it and opening up emails to answer.

They sat in an uncomfortable silence. Ashton watching Michael and Michael watching his phone. He replied to a few business things, upset that he couldn't take a single night off without someone messing something up.

"Do you ignore our son like this?" He broke the silence a few minutes after their food came.

Mike ate with his right hand, his left hand still scrolling through his phone. "No, I don't ignore my son like this. I usually do this after he goes to bed."

"Where's he now?"

"My assistant is babysitting him." Michael's responses were short and bitter, much like his forced professional image.

"Do you think I could, like," he paused, twirling his fehttuchini alfredo around in his fork, "Meet him?"

Michael shrugged. "Let's see how the night goes, yeah?"