Snapshots | ✓

Forty Eight: Micah

Friday, May 27th, 2016

Micah stood in the baggage claim area at Reagan National Airport, watching the familiar blonde head of his sister shift anxiously where she stood on the escalator. As soon as there was a clear path, she bolted the rest of the way down and headed straight for Micah, dropping her carry-on and launching herself at him.

"How was your flight?" he asked.

"Are you okay?! What happened to your face? Do you have brain damage? Have you made an appointment to see a therapist?" Misha demanded, pulling back from the windpipe-crushing hug and sandwiching his face between her hands.

"I'm fine, Meesh, really," he assured her.

"I don't believe you," she replied. She released him and grabbed her bag, keeping one hand on his elbow. "You witnessed a major catastrophe during a normal workday. That's going to mess with your head, Mickey. You don't have to pretend to be okay to spare me from worrying, because you being totally fine is worrying in a completely different way."

"They're making everyone who was impacted by the event redo their psych evals, so I'll know soon if I'm really okay or not," Micah said, leading the way towards the exit and the parking structure.

"Oh. That's good. I'm glad they're not throwing you back into work right away."

He hummed his agreement and repeated his earlier question about her flight. He managed to keep her talking about herself, Cameron, Lenore, and their dad for the twenty minute drive back to the apartment. He shot a quick text to Hayes warning her that they were coming up.

"Are you going to move out of this building soon? These stairs take years off of my life every time I visit."

"If anything they extend your life by making you do exercise," he replied. "But I don't know. It'll depend what happens over the next few months."

Misha gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure you don't have brain damage?"

"Why?"

"You're a planner. A person of routines. You not knowing something about your near future is like... is like me being on time. It's weird and it makes me uncomfortable."

"It's not nearly as weird as you being on time."

Micah unlocked and opened the door to the apartment. There was loud pop music playing and the smell of pancakes wafting out of the kitchen. He rounded the door and stopped. Hayes was in front of the stove wearing shorts and a tank top, a spatula in one hand, dancing and dramatically lip syncing the lyrics to Bastet where the cat was seated on the corner of the small table in the kitchen.

Hayes looked up at him and smiled, a warm and strangely intimate expression settling on her features for just a moment before she shifted her attention to the guest. "Hey Misha! I hope you like pancakes because I greatly overestimated how many this recipe would make and have, like, so many."

"Oh my god!" Misha exclaimed. "Did you two finally hook up?"

Hayes's mouth fell open and she looked at Micah who only smiled apologetically. "I told you she'd know."

"It's like a superpower," Hayes said, turning down the music.

"You did?! Is it official? Are you two a thing?" Misha demanded. "Damn, Arianna called it. Gelsey and I thought you two were so far in denial that nothing would make it happen, but Arianna thought that Micah's brush with danger could have pushed one of you to do something. After we found out you were okay, obviously Micah."

"Would have been difficult for anything to happen if I'd been dead," Micah remarked.

"Don't joke about that," Hayes chided at the same time as Misha whacked him on the arm. Hayes turned away to flip the last pancakes off of the pan.

"Can I get a picture of you two for the groupchat? I don't think they'll believe me otherwise."

Micah frowned. "Why would a picture of us help?"

"You have to be doing something coupley like kissing."

"Misha, that's ridiculous—"

"Incoming!" Hayes announced.

Micah barely had time to turn towards her before her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and she dragged his face down to her level. Despite how demanding her fingers were where they dug into his skin, her mouth was soft as she kissed him. The world outside of her—the curve of her lips, the warmth of her body where she pressed against him, the taste of her strawberry lip balm—faded from his senses, and only slowly filtered back in after she broke the kiss.

"I'm never going to get tired of doing that," she said. She pushed up on her tiptoes to steal another quick kiss, then turned away and grabbed the plate of pancakes from the counter. "Let's eat!"

Micah blinked rapidly a few times. Closed his mouth when he realized it was still open. Busied himself with collecting plates and cutlery until he found his tongue again.

Misha laughed. "Oh, dude. Dude. You are so gone for her."

He nodded somberly, eliciting another cackle of delight from his sister.