Need (Scomiche)

Eight

Here's some angst you didn't ask for B)
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-

"You should wear that really nice olive silky button up you got," Scott says softly into the phone.

"Yeah?" Mitch smiles, laying down outfits on his bed. He's curated a few looks that he thinks might be appropriate for this event Scott had invited him to. It's kind of their first real date, when Mitch thinks about it. They've spent more than their fair share of time snuggled on Scott's couch, in Scott's bed, on Scott's floor, in Scott's shower... Mitch loves it, of course, doesn't think he could get enough of Scott's touch, or kiss, or mouth, or cock, but a more conventional date sounds enticing - and will likely result in a night of touches and kisses, anyhow.

"Yeah, your skin shines whenever you wear it."

Mitch rolls his eyes, "I don't want to be overdressed, though." Mitch worries his lip between his teeth. Scott had said this was only his friend's art show, that he felt he needed to go since this friend had always supported Scott. He had begged Mitch to go along with him to help him stave off boredom as he looked at art he didn't understand. Mitch thinks the gala would be more semi-formal, but Scott has been urging him to dress to the nines.

"As if I would ever believe Mitch Grassi doesn't want to steal the show."

"I don't - I barely know this girl."

"Mitchy," Scott whines. "Please. That shirt with some cropped black pants - oh and some heeled boots - baby, you'd look absolutely stunning."

"Have you been rummaging through my closet?" Mitch laughs, laying out the olive silk shirt on top of his black trousers. He's fairly certain he's had a selfie of him in the exact outfit Scott is suggesting stocked in a folder of potential jaw-dropping looks.

"No?"

"Just a joke, baby. I can wear something like that, if you really want me to," Mitch hums, hanging up his other outfits and eyeing his look for Friday night.

"I'd love to have something pretty to look at," Scott breathes. "I'll even treat you to a nice dinner for being such a good boy for me."

Mitch flushes, smirking as he responds, "thank you, daddy."

-

Mitch does wear the olive silk shirt and the black pants, and he finds some pretty and pointy black heeled boots. Scott smiles brightly when Mitch answers the door clad in the outfit he'd basically requested. Scott himself looks gorgeous. He's got a collared shirt that swoops down low, unbuttoned to show off the pristine white undershirt he has underneath. Both are tucked into cropped khaki pants and topped off with some simple white shoes. Mitch thinks he looks like a hunk.

"Wow," Scott smiles, pulling his hands from behind his back and offering up some flowers. "For my baby."

"Thank you," Mitch's eyes widen, his hand reaching for the assortment. He glances behind him at his small apartment. "Come on in. I should put these in some water."

Scott smiles, following Mitch into the small single apartment. Mitch was grateful he had been able to find a place so quickly that wasn't absolute shit or horribly overpriced. Sure, he had expensive taste, but he didn't have the expenses for that taste.

"It's nice," Scott hums. "I haven't seen it all put together."

Mitch laughs, "yeah. It seems bigger when there aren't boxes everywhere." Mitch trims the stems, finds a vase (miraculously) and sets them up on his little dining table. "They're very pretty, babe." Mitch says sweetly, pushing his way into Scott's arm. He pushes up onto his tiptoes, pressing his lips gently to Scott's cheek. "Should repay my gentlemanly boyfriend."

"I'm glad you like them," Scott says lowly, hands smoothing down Mitch's sides. He kisses the tip of Mitch's nose. "But we have to leave now if we're going to have time for dinner and the event."

Mitch sighs, dropping down onto his heels. Scott takes his hand, leading him out of his apartment complex and into his car for a smooth ride to a nice restaurant.

-

"That was delicious," Mitch moans, pushing his plate away and wiping at his mouth. "Thank you, baby."

"Anything for my beautiful boyfriend." Scott smiles, grabbing for his wine.

Mitch smirks, leaning forward in his chair and reaching across the table to rest his hand on Scott's forearm. "Anything?" He trails the tip of his boot along Scott's shin, inching higher as Scott's cheeks redden. The food was amazing, but he thinks he misses Scott's touch a bit. They hadn't seen each other much during the week due to hectic schedules, and he's hoped their first official date would end in a long night of love-making.

"Mitchy," Scott breathes, resting his wine glass down on the white table cloth.

"Scotty," Mitch grins, his boot running along the inside of Scott's thigh. "Why don't we just skip the art show? Have some fun, baby."

Scott's expression falls for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing and the corner of his lips tugging down into a frown. "This is an important event." Scott says quietly, eyes locked onto his wine glass. Mitch's foot falls, and he watches as Scott slowly peels his eyes away, looking up at Mitch with a crestfallen expression.

"I'm sorry," Mitch says, straightening his posture and reaching for his own wine. "We can go, of course. It just didn't even seem like you wanted to go in the first place." Mitch bites at his lip when he realizes how bitter he sounds. He can't take back his words now, and he thinks he means them, anyway. Scott had insinuated that the art show would be boring, hinted that he needed Mitch there to be entertained. Mitch had just thought Scott would prefer to be entertained in other ways. Mitch notices Scott's mouth opens, decides then to blurt, "I'm sorry." It stops Scott from whatever he had intended to say, and Mitch pushes his chair back, laying his napkin down on the table. "Let's just go."

Scott frowns deeper this time, clearly in on the passive aggressive tone Mitch holds.

"Yeah," Scott sighs, pushing himself up. "Let's go."