internal matters

six

Michael and Jim were sharing another one of their domestic moments. In the month it had been since it became official that Michael was moving in, they'd been having far more of those.

Jim passed the dripping dish over to Michael, who dried it slowly, his mind far away from dishes and soap. It was closer to Jim, and all the silly little routines they had, and the fact that Jim had just decided in the end it would be more sensible (romantic?) to not get Michael a bed, since he'd grown comfortable in Jim's (since Jim had grown comfortable with Michael in his?). But that was probably nothing, he reasoned, just... platonic attachment? No, that was far less than what they had, but it wasn't like they were dating-

Jim nudged him playfully.

"Fears, darling, I know I'm gorgeous, but we do have dishes to wash. You can stare at me while we're watching the movie." The fact that it was not In His Head Jim who said this, and rather Real Jim, sent a flutter through Michael, who was finding it hard to breathe.

"Sorry, boss." Jim rolled his eyes and handed him the dish.

"Where's your mind at, anyway? Hmm? Mentally undressing me?" That was another thing. Over the course of the month, Jim had gotten far more bold. There were so many innuendos and dick jokes that Michael was in a perpetual state of blushing.

"Who says it's you that I'm mentally undressing?"

"You haven't got anyone else to mentally undress. What do you say? Do I look sexy? Am I at least posing?"

"You're far from the prettiest I've ever seen." Dangerous waters, he thought, but then they were swimming farther into the deep end every day.

Jim pouted at him. "You've wounded me, Michael, really, you have." He snorted and put his back to the counter to get a better look at Jim.

"Have I?" He nodded.

"You're a cruel little thing. What would you do if I said the same to you?"

"Prove you wrong." He didn't know where the words had come from, but then they were out in the open and there wasn't any taking them back.

"Really?" Jim took a subtle step closer to him, but everything in that moment felt so real that Michael was noticing everything. "How would you go about that?"

"I'd have to show you the real thing." He had an easy sort of confidence about him, and it drove Jim mad. He was always so, so sure of what he said, did, wore.

Swallowing, Jim took another step forward and put one hand on either side of Michael, trapping the boy between him and the counter. Their bodies were so close that they could feel each other's heat radiating. Michael wasn't sure how he could have a moment like this and then go back to sleeping half naked with an equally nude Jim, in an infuriatingly platonic way.

"Well, Michael..." Jim's voice was sinfully low, and Michael drew in a small gasp. Had Jim always been this tall, dominating, powerful? "Then I'll have to say you aren't the prettiest I've ever seen." And then he leaned in, and for one amazing second Michael thought he might be kissing him, but he went to the side and then his lips were so close to his ear and his breath was cool like the mint gum he liked to chew with his perfect lips-

"Prove me wrong."

Those three words changed everything and set the very essence of Michael on fire, as he looked up at Jim's eyes. Eyes were supposed to tell you everything, but Michael could gather nothing from them. It was from the way his brows were partially raised- you won't do it, a challenge- and his lips, his smirking mouth- do it do it do it do it do it- that Michael gathered everything. Jim was serious, and so was he.

Then the door opened, and it was like opening the door after a hot shower and all the cold air rushed in. The moment had passed as quickly as it had come about, and then Jim was straightening and stepping away and fixing his tie even though his jacket and shoes had been abandoned, and Michael was staring with lips parted- I would have done it, come back- and Erianna was clueless as she raided the fridge and cracked open a beer.

And still, though nothing had happened, it might have been as though everything did.

-

"Give me your key." Erianna frowned at Jim, then went back to picking tomatoes off of her sandwich.

"No." Jim's upper lip twitched. He was going to get what he wanted.

"Now, Jackson." She rolled her eyes but handed it over, not in the mood for testing Jim and walking away hurt.

"Jesus. What the hell do you want it for?"

"You walked in at a bad moment last night," he said carefully. "And it isn't going to happen again." Her eyes widened as she set down her sandwich.

"Oh! Were you trying to get into Michael's pants?"

"It's none of your business."

"That's alright, Jim, I don't need to know. Can I be the maid of honor, though?" He threw one of the tomatoes at her, which she blocked as she laughed.

"Don't say anything. I don't want to scare him off."

"Michael?" she said, and then laughed. "Boss, I don't think you could scare that one away if you tried."

-

Jim checked over himself one more time. Impeccable suit, perfect hair, minty breath... He felt a bit like a teenager again as he went to go find Michael. Except this was different. Except he liked Michael. Except he wasn't going to kill him after. Except Michael was the furthest you could get from Carl Powers.

He knew the office and everyone in it by heart. Tina the accountant (six kids and an affair with a sniper, wanted something not-boring to happen for once). Joe the secretary (one night stand gone wrong, job interview the next morning, Jim had hired him because he thought it would be wrong to reject him after he'd seen him naked). Mary the sniper (he didn't know her real name but she was a dead shot every time).

Suddenly, though, the only one he cared about was Michael.

Michael was in the copying room. It seemed that was where Michael always was. Currently, he was struggling with a paper jam and cursing everything he could think of.

"Fuck this! Fuck this whole stupid job! Fuck this stupid printer! Fuck Jim!"

"If you insist," Jim said in his cool voice that he knew Michael loved. The boy turned around, flustered and smiling sheepishly, and Jim replied with a smile of his own, something not as innocent.

"You heard that, then?"

"I hear everything." Michael laughed, feeling the anger dissipate, and ran a hand through his hair.

"I didn't actually mean that last one."

"I would hope not. You'd really hurt my feelings." Michael smiled, and suddenly everything between them felt okay.

After the dish-washing incident of the previous night, they'd gone very quiet, no words spoken to each other, and Michael had slept on the couch. He was gone before Jim woke up to make breakfast.

But everything felt okay. And, Michael decided in that moment, jaw hardening and smile tightening, he was going to do everything he could to keep it like that.