two
The office kept gummy bears on the front desk specifically for Michael. That's why Mike spent most of his spare time flirting with the receptionists and snaking on all the gummy bears—except the green ones.
Luke was four minutes late. His cheeks were red from the cold autumn air outside as he rushed in. He was already taking off his jacket, throwing it towards the coat rack. "Are my patients here yet?"
Michael sorted out all the red gummy bears, eating them all at once. "No one is ever on time. This is New York City, Idiot." Mike looked at him—skinny jeans and a fitted shirt. "Why are you in a wet suit?"
Luke rolled his eyes as he stepped closer to Michael. He took a whiff of the younger man's cologne, "You smell amazing."
"Really?" Michael lifted up his arm, smelling himself. "Wow, I do."
Luke reached into the bowl of gummy bears, taking the green ones. He knew Michael would be upset if he took any other flavor besides green. "How'd that C-section go?"
"Good, no one died. How's your fake boyfriend doing?"
"Good, still alive." Luke reached over reception, grabbing a file of faxed papers waiting to be signed. He opened a manilla folder, tearing the top with his teeth. "What're you doing this weekend?"
"Modern Baseball is in town, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come with me?" Michael asked quietly, rubbing the back of his neck out of nervous habit. He looked up from his feet, catching bored blue eyes.
"What kind of name is that?"
"They're really cool actually, they're from a town next where I grew up." Mike leant over the reception, placing down the (now) empty bowl of (what once were) gummy bears.
"You're trying to tell me Pennsylvania is a real state?" Luke asked, not raising his view from the papers in his hands.
"Yeah, we had the conference there last year. The one where you got drunk from the tequila bar."
Luke looked up, glaring at the smirking, younger boy. "You promised you wouldn't mention that." He picked up his work, tucking it under his arm and taking a deep breath. "And, no, I'm not going with you to some rock concert."
"It's alternative!" He corrected, letting Luke walk a few feet into his office.
"Ask someone else!" The blonde called, closing his office door.
Michael sighed, not content with the situation. He looked around their charming office building, looking at the nurses and receptionists and other doctors wandering around. Who looked cool? "Hey, Matt!" Michael called, running over to a curly-haired nurse.
"It's Matty," he corrected, his British accent standing out in their Manhattan office, "You know that." The pale boy whom wore long sleeves all year to cover up his many tattoos continued his walk around the office, delivering the morning mail. He didn't stop for Michael, no one stopped for Michael.
"Do you wanna come to a concert with me tonight? It's gonna be cool."
"Concert?" He asked, his head perking up. "Are they good?"
"They're fucking great, Mate."
Matty furrowed his eyebrows, scrunching up his face. "You're American, please don't."
Mike nodded, "Right, right. Sorry."
"Text me the details. Pick me up around 5."
Matty wasn't Michael's first choice, probably not his second either. But his first choice was buried in his own office trying to be more prestigious than his college frat brothers.
"Okay," Mike said, eyeing Luke's office. In all of his fantasies, the older man would come from his office and agree to go to the concert. Like a Blink-182 song. They'd fall in love at a rock show. Or an alternative show, it's almost the same thing.
In the end, though, Michael has waited five years and he knows it might as well be five more.
Lil' Mikey has a crush on mean ol' Luke :-----(((((((((
