Scomiche One-Shots

Forbidden Part Two

A/N: I literally can't deny you guys anything. I LOVE and appreciate all of you.

Mitch's POV:

     It's hot. Way too hot. And it feels like there's a boulder resting on my chest. My eyes snap open and the first thing I can see is blond hair. My muscles relax immediately and I reposition my hips before letting my hand move up and tangle through Scott's hair.

     His shoulder and head are resting on top of me, and he looks so vulnerable. This was the side of Scott that was reserved only for me, and I wasn't willing to share it. He's been so stressed lately with being one of the leading people in our group. A lot was falling on his shoulders.

     His clock showed that it was nearly noon, but I wasn't planning on getting up any time soon. He was a little heavy, but I was more comfortable laying with Scott like this than I should admit.

     Maybe it was me being emotional and sentimental lately, but I don't know what I would do without this man that was draped across my body like a blanket. He supported me fully and didn't question anything I did.

     Scott always pieces me together when I'm broken, and he's always the one who I want to share my greatest happiness and achievements with. There was nothing about him that was flawed. He was selfless and only cared that others were happy.

     The bags under his eyes were much more prominent than normal, and his forehead was lined with worry. Guilt burned through my veins. This was because of me. Scott was always so concerned with how I was that he never took the time to make sure he was okay. I never took the time to make sure he was okay. Some friend I am.

     I snap out of my thoughts when I feel his fingers moving gently along the line of my collarbone. How long had he been awake? I reciprocate the affection by running my fingers along his scalp again, and I smile when he pulls back to meet my eyes.

     "Where were you?" He asks. I feel slightly confused at the question considering I was obviously physically here the whole time, but he was talking about where I had gone mentally.

     "Far away," I answer softly. The corners of his lips turn up into a sad smile and I sigh, knowing we have a few things to talk about. Things were going to change, and they were going to change starting today.

     I reposition us when he sits up against the headboard, straddling his thighs comfortably. It would seem sexual to any other person, but this couldn't be further from that.

     "I need to talk to you," I say, breathing out gently and refusing to meet his eyes for now. These talks were never good, but he needed to hear it. "You're not taking care of yourself again. I'm not taking care of you." I pause and set my hand on his cheek, letting my thumb trace along the dark circle under his eye for emphasis.

     My eyes meet his after another few seconds and I can tell that my lashes are already wet with tears that I refuse to let fall.

     "Let me take care of you, Scotty. You take care of me all the time, and I never take care of you back, and that's not how this is supposed to work. You're my best friend and the only person in my life that I'm not willing to lose, and I'm not making sure that you're okay."

     My voice cracks a few times towards the end, but I know he heard me. His blue eyes were slowly watering over, but I knew he would try to argue with something I said. I wasn't sure which part he would disagree with, but I would find out.

     "You don't need to take care of me, Mitch. You need to be taken care of more than I do. We're going through a lot right now, and Jesus, you're depressed. You need to worry about yourself, and I need to worry about you. I'm okay. I just haven't slept a lot lately, but that's all." The end of his speech had the slightest hint of doubt in it, and that was all I needed to hear before I was running with it.

     My hands hold his face gently and I force his eyes to lock with mine.

     "I don't just mean physically, Scott. You forget that I can read you like the back of my hand. I know everything about you, and I know when you're not okay. You don't always have to be strong, you know. I'm here for you just as much as you're here for me."

     I inch a little further up his legs and I let my forehead rest against his, a smile etching itself onto my features.

     "Let's just be there for each other. How we're supposed to be. That's always how it's been, and we fell off track a little, but let's get back to our usual selves. There has been way too much crying happening in this house for the past few months. I mean, look at us. We made it, Stephanie. We became all we wanted to be, and we're moping around instead of enjoying it." I pause and then a true grin pulls at my face, my dimples popping out. "Let's get drunk tonight."

     It didn't take long for Scott to start laughing, and I was quick to follow.

     "If you want to get drunk tonight, I'm all in. But we have to watch movies and there has to be a ton of pizza." He paused in thought and then looked down at me. "And I'm gonna need coffee sooner rather than later."

     I smile down at him again and roll my eyes playfully.

     This was my Scott. Happy, and smiling.

*****

And drunk. He was definitely drunk. And loud. Why was he so loud? But why did I care, he was so beautiful and sweet and he was singing purposely out of tune with some new song he heard on the radio. And I was definitely drunk.

     "Scott. C'mere." I laughed at my slightly slurred speech, and it only took him a few seconds to come over and flop on top of me, and grin spreading over my cheeks.

     "Mitchy your face is so red. Wine works like how blush works. Who needs fucking make up. Let's just always be drunk."

     I laughed when he started attacking my neck with playful kisses, and it took a few seconds for it to click, but somehow those playful kisses were turning into slow, greedy, open mouth kisses that were stinging along my collar bones and my throat and even though I was wasted, I knew I wanted more. I needed more.

     My breaths were slowly turning ragged and when I felt him starting to pull away, my only instinct was to pull him closer.

     "Please don't stop." I could feel his muscles clench at my request and when his eyes met mine, it was easy to see the desire that I'm positive was mirrored in my own.

     "Are you sure?" . It was hard for my drunk brain to fully process what his words meant, but I nodded eagerly. That was all it took to encourage him.

     That's also how an hour later, when both of us were slowly sobering up, we were still kissing and grabbing each other relentlessly. I didn't want it to stop, and I know he didn't want it to stop either, but we couldn't let it go on like this.

     "Wait." It was Scott who pulled back first. "I want to keep going. Trust me. Be we are tipsy and I think we should at least think about this until tomorrow night. If we both still want more then, we can have it, but I'm worried that if we don't stop tonight, someone will regret it in the morning."

     I pouted a little and sat up reluctantly, biting down on my bottom lip which was much too swollen from how aggressively we had been attacking each other just a few minutes ago. I didn't want to stop and I knew I wouldn't regret it, but what if Scott was talking about himself? What if he thought he would regret it? I sighed gently and nodded.

     "Fine, but tomorrow night you better make sure you're ready." His smile was enough to ease my worries, and the rest of the evening went by in a blur.