Music - Scomiche One Shots

"Jealous" - Beyoncé

A/N: I swear all these songs won't be Beyoncé ones... this is a coincidence, I swear! I wrote this quickly and it isn't amazing, but I liked it.

Enjoy!

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     Mitch couldn't remember the last time he had been so infuriated with his blond significant other. In fact, he wasn't sure he ever had been this mad at him. They'd had minor fights, sure, but this was a whole different story.

     He watched another minute tick by on the clock and once the hand had made a complete circle again the brunet felt his grip on the empty glass in his hand tighten. This was getting ridiculous.

     Five more rotations on the clock and Mitch lost it. A strangled cry erupted from his throat and before he could stop himself he watched the glass fly from his hand and shatter against the wall on the opposite side of the room. A gasp caught his attention and it was only then that he noticed Scott standing in the open doorway to their apartment.

     "Mitch? What the fuck!" The smaller man's temper was practically boiling over and his boyfriend's words only pushed him further over the edge.

     "You don't get to say shit to me, Scott!" The blond took a tentative step forward and when Mitch didn't tell him to stop he followed it with another. When he got close enough he hesitantly reached a hand out to touch the brunet, but it was smacked away with more aggression than he'd ever seen come out of that little body. "Don't touch me."

     The words were calm as Mitch spoke them and if Scott was honest, Mitch jumping from angry to calm was scaring him. He'd never seen the younger man react to him this way and he didn't know how to handle it.

     "Where were you?" He was confused for half a second before brown eyes met his own. The anger was definitely still there and the eye contact seemed to trigger Mitch. "You said you were going to be here, Scott. You said you would be here! The stupid fucking dinner was five hours ago! FIVE FUCKING HOURS AGO! You promised me! You've stood me up seven times in the past two weeks. If you're trying to tell me something, you've succeeded. I get it, Scott. You're over me; over this. I hear you loud and fucking clear. You could at least be decent enough to tell me to my damn face instead of making me sit at home alone waiting for you when you never planned to come anyways."

     "I was just busy, Mitch. I'm sorry. I should have texted you."

     "Too busy to fucking tell me you weren't planning to come home until one in the morning? Too busy to send me a text saying not to wait around? Too busy, Scott?" The blond knew he'd put his foot in his mouth. Nothing was going his way tonight. "Maybe I should start being busy, too, huh? Hell, consider me busy for the foreseeable future. I'll make sure to keep you waiting around for no reason, too. Sound good?"

     Scott had assumed it was a rhetorical question but the look on Mitch's face said otherwise. "I'm sorry, Mitch. I can explain."

     Mitch considered being as much of a dick to Scott as he had been to him, but he didn't have it in him. Maybe he just loved the blond more than was reciprocated towards himself.

     "You don't deserve it, but I'll give you five minutes to explain yourself before I pack a bag, walk out that front door, and sleep at Kirstie's for the next month."

     "Mitch..." the hand wrapping around his small bicep elicited a loud gasp from Mitch's lips.

     "I said don't touch me. And you better start explaining. You're running out of time."

     "I'm just confused!"

     "Confused? About us?"

     "Yes! God damn it, Mitch!"