blondie [muke af]

thirty three

thirty three

Luke rolled over as his alarm went off, his cold fingers slid his unlock screen to stop the sound. Michael's arms were wrapped around his waist tightly. During the night, the blonde could sometimes feel Mike's fingers rubbing his barely bloated stomach. It was comforting to the thirty-one year old.

"Stay in bed," Michael whined, pulling the light body back to his chest.

The one thing Luke hated about being so small was that Michael was constantly pulling him in one direction or the next. He was only in the low one hundreds, he never found the need to build up muscle or weight. "I've gotta get breakfast started and get dressed."

"You don't need to go to work," he groaned, rolling on his back and finally opening his eyes, "I want you to stay home."

"Yeah? Well I want to go to work, and I always win." Luke rolled out of his grip, mindlessly walking into their closet. It was the beginning of August, the heat was still radiating in their New York house. Even with the air conditioning blasting, Luke couldn't help but feel fatigued.

"I think you should stay home." Michael's voice from the closet doorway startled Luke, the blonde jumping back a few inches as he turned his head.

"I only worked one day this week, my team needs me," he responded. He wanted to start quoting High School Musical but decided it wasn't the right time after looking at his lover.

Michael's dark brows were furrowed together, he liked control. "They'll be fine. Stay home."

"I'm not staying home another day, Michael," Luke responded, slipping off his dirty pajama tee shirt. He changed his undergarments, Michael still standing at the doorway. He looked angry and Luke couldn't figure out why.

Luke has always been independent. He's been dominant and forceful. In the end, he will makes sure he always gets his way, which makes him fairly persistent.

"Remember when you tried to resign?" Mike asked, walking through Luke's section of the closet and over to his own.

Luke didn't respond. He slid his grey jeans on, grabbing a black belt from the proper hanger. Even now, with a bump in front of his stomach, he still didn't properly fit into women's jeans.

"Dr. Clen said you're in critical condition, your body isn't really made for pregnancy," Michael stated. He slid on a pair of slacks, running a hand through his hair and wondering when the last time he washed his hair was.

"You shouldn't have knocked me up then." His voice was monotone, a no-nonsense persona lifting around him. He pulled on a white muscle tee, his fingers running over the soft material of his cardigans and jackets. Luke never liked showing too much skin at work, he just wasn't comfortable with it.

"I just really don't want you up and around when you're carrying our child, Luke. Especially in stressful situations like work," Michael called out from the other side of the closet. He turned to face the mirror, picking up a few strands of the dark hair. His roots were terrible, they were actually embarrassing. He was in desperate need of a fresh layer of dye.

"I run a website to make you look good. I spend half of the day on Tumblr," Luke called back, sliding on a cardigan.

Mike left his closet, heading to the bathroom. He flipped on the light, flinching at the sudden brightness. "Baby, I'm trying to protect you."

"I'm a thirty-year-old man, don't." Luke scooted next to Michael, going to his own sink and taking out his eyebrow brush. He dipped the Ecobrush into the brow color, filling in his archway.

"'I'm a man'," Michael quoted, "'but look at me putting on makeup and wearing girl jeans'." He raised his voice, obviously trying to mimic his fiancé.

Luke tsked, completely offended. "Fuck you, I can still be a man even if I wear make up. I can still be a man if I'm carrying your child. If I say I am a man, I am a man," he spat. He grabbed the necessary makeup, collecting it all in his hands. He left the room in a huff, mumbling insults under his breath.

"I didn't mean it like that," Michael called, slumping his shoulders.

"Yes, you did! Fuck off!" Luke shouted, exiting their wing of the house and going to the guest bathroom. He set the supplies down, trying to stop the tears from his eyes.

He wasn't supposed to be crying, he's heard it all before. He knows people don't think of him as manly, but Luke never cared. Hearing someone he loves say it though, it hurt him.

"Stop crying," he whimpered to himself, sitting down on the closed toilet seat. He picked at his nails, not understanding why he suddenly became so emotional.

His baby blue eyes looked around the shiny white bathroom, trying to focus on something besides the liquid free falling.

Michael headed down the stairs, his sock-clad feet sliding against the smooth stone of the first floor. He popped his normal breakfast into the toaster then started up the oven, making an omelette for Luke.

Luke filled in his other eyebrow, curling and applying mascara to his eyelashes. He looked at the lip colors he grabbed, picking the brightest red he could possibly find. His mom always hated the red on him, it was just a little bit too bright for his pale skin. She didn't understand that was the point.

Minutes later, he was in their kitchen, ignoring Michael with all the power he had in his small body. Luke did, though, accept the omelette on toast.

A boy has gotta eat.

"Are you ignoring me?"

Luke ignored him.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know how I am in the mornings."

Luke ignored him.

"Don't be annoying."

Luke got up, taking one last bite of his breakfast and leaving the room with a, "See you at work."