hate || lh + mc

thing four:

"i hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind. i hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme."

michael came stomping into their shared apartment, snow tracking across the carpet from his boots.

"michael!" luke shouted, dropping the spoon he was using to mix the cake batter.

"hmm?"

"you can't just come stomping in here! my parents will be here in an hour and i just cleaned the carpet!" he cried, sighing. "you know what," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "just.. just go start the fireplace. i'll clean the carpet."

michael just sighs, picking up the fire poker.

he could tell luke had been having a rough day, what with the stress of his parents coming over and meeting michael for the first time.

when the blonde was nervous, he was critical- making sure the house was in the perfect shape.

as luke finished up the cake, he leaned his forehead against the microwave, sighing harshly.

michael watched as his boy was about to burst, wrapping his arms around himself.

padding towards luke, michael's arms wrapped themselves around the younger boy, soft kisses pressing into his temple and his neck and his jaw and anywhere michael's lips would fit.

"baby, stop stressin'. you're gonna hurt yourself," he whispered, nipping at luke's earlobe.

"i.. i'm not st- im not stressed, michael. why would you think that?"

a smirk tugged at the man's cherry red lips. "you're doing it. you're tugging at your lip ring, you're messing up your hair. your hands are rubbing together, which is gonna cause them to go raw if you don't stop, and you're huffin' and puffin'."

luke twisted around, michael's short, stubby, stumpy fingers digging into the counter top on either side of luke.

"i hate that you can do that."

"do what, baby boy?"

luke flushes at the name. "that you can read my mind and tell when i'm not fine."

michael giggles. "that rhymed!"

cerulean eyes rolled back, pushing michael off of him. "just go set the food out, you dork."