Petite Michel

8

Mike frowned and watched as the eggs sizzled.

"You need to turn 'em over," he said, getting closer to the pan. He ended up getting a little too close to the stove as suddenly, he was picked up by the back of his neck and lifted into the air.

"MICKY!" Mike screamed as he was being carried but Micky didn't say anything until he placed Mike down on the opposite end of the counter.

"You shouldn't get so close to the stove," Micky shrugged. "Was just trying to save your life."

"I wasn't too close," Mike pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "And besides, your eggs need to be turned over."

Micky sighed and used the spatula to turn them over. Mike was right.

"Thank you," he said quietly but Mike didn't answer him. They stayed in silence for a moment before Mike declared that the eggs were done.

"You really know these things, don't you," Micky said with a smile as he moved the eggs to four different plates.

"What things?" Mike asked, watching like a hawk as he did.

Micky shrugged.

"Why do we own a kitchen timer when we have a Mike?"

Mike rolled his eyes.

"Haha, very funny," he muttered as he sat down on the edge of the counter, sliding off. He landed on the ground with an "oomph" and Micky instantly ran to him, concerned.

"Oh, God, Mike, are you okay?" He stammered when Mike didn't get up.

"Mike?"

"I'm fine," he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder. Micky frowned and got down onto his knees as Mike made his way to his feet.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's just that was..." he started before he realized how embarrassing the statement was. "Just a higher fall than I thought it was."

Micky sighed and nodded.

"I'm sorry, Mike," he said quietly as he held out his hand. Mike frowned, staring down at the hand.

"What?" He asked.

"Do you want me to carry you anywhere or...?"

Mike sighed and made his way to the table.

"Do you want my help?" Micky asked and Mike turned to glare at him. He smiled and shrugged, going back to the kitchen.

"Guess not," he muttered as Mike began climbing up the side of the chair.

"Morning Micky," Davy's voice called out as he came down the stairs.

"Good morning," Micky smiled at him. "I made breakfast."

Davy hummed as he went to start making coffee. He yawned as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet. He turned around and let out a yell.

"SHIT!" He cried out, dropping the mug and shattering it. Mike screamed, startled by the noise, and fell to the ground. Mike groaned and got up onto his feet, glaring at Davy.

"DAVY!" He snapped. Davy frowned, looking down.

"S-sorry..." he said quietly. "You just startled me."

"I startled you," Mike muttered, shaking his head as he went back to his chair. Suddenly, Peter came into view, sitting on his hands and knees.

"Good morning, Mike," he said with a smile. Mike sighed.

"Morning," he said as he climbed up to the seat of the chair.

"Need any help?" Peter offered, only trying to help, but Mike was becoming frustrated already.

"No, I got it," he snapped. "I can take care of myself."

Peter frowned and stood.

"Okay," he said softly. "I'm sorry..."

"I'm sorry," Mike sighed.

"Do you need any help?" Peter asked again.

"Do I have a choice?"

Peter smiled and nodded.

"I've got it," Mike said as he grabbed on tightly to the table cloth. "But thank you."

Peter went over to the other side of the table and held down the other end of the table cloth so Mike was able to use it to climb up onto the table.

By the time he was able to get on top of the table, Mike was already out of breath and Micky was already setting the table.

It was a semi-normal morning until Micky went and placed a normal-sized plate in front of Mike with a single egg on it. They all stopped and looked at him. Even though Mike knew they didn't watch it maliciously, it still made him feel uncomfortable.

"You made him an egg?" Davy asked Micky.

"He asked me to," Micky defended, sitting down.

"I'm hungry," Mike explained as he went over to pick up his fork. After a slight struggle, he was able to finally lift it up, but it was too heavy. He swung around for a moment before Micky grabbed onto the fork, lifting both it and Mike into the air.

"Let me go," Mike said sternly and Micky obeyed.

"You can eat with your hands, you know," Micky explained as Mike dragged the fork back toward his plate. "No one's gonna judge you here."

Mike glared at him but his anger faded with a sigh.

"I'm not gonna eat eggs with my hands," he said quietly.

"You shouldn't eat with the fork or knife either," Davy said, a hint of concern in his tone.

Mike groaned and tore off a handful from his egg and nibbled on it reluctantly. Davy nodded and the three went back to eating, occasionally turning back to check on Mike.

After nearly half an hour of eating in silence, the other three had finished their plates and had already put them away. Mike hadn't even finished a third of the egg. At one point, the combination of a hundred different thoughts and feelings got the better of him and he began crying.

"Hey, Mike?" Peter asked softly, going back toward the table. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head and hid his face in his hands.

"I-I-I..." he stammered, wiping his face. "I can't finish it."

"That's okay," Peter smiled. "Don't force yourself if you can't eat it."

"It's an egg Peter," Mike choked out. "One egg."

"And that's okay," he tried again to comfort his friend but it only made Mike feel worse.

"I-I'm sorry..." he sobbed. Peter frowned and carefully picked Mike up into his hands and held him close in the closest thing to a hug he could. Mike eventually cried himself to sleep and Peter laid him down on a couch pillow.

As Mike slept, the other three stayed in the kitchen and began talking and coming up with ideas to help their 6-inch friend.