#brikey

“Aw, little Mikey still needs a nightlight.” Michael would get pissed and sulky, but then Brian would slide his long arms around Michael, wrapping him up completely, and press his lips against Michael’s cheek, whispering in his ear how cute he was when he was mad. Michael was always helpless to fight against the affection, turning to putty in Brian’s arms. 

“Brian.” It wasn’t unusual for that name to be the first thing on Michael’s lips when he woke up; his friend was often the subject of his dreams. Was he dreaming now or was that really Brian’s silhouette crouched down outside his window? The tip of a cigarette glowed bright orange-red in the blue-black night. He shot up in bed, eyes wide. This wasn’t a dream. “Brian?” He kicked the sheets tangled around his feet away. He stumbled sleepily across the room and slid the window open. 

“Hey, Mikey.” Brian crushed his cigarette out on the windowsill. “Haven’t seen these in a while,” he huffed, lips curling up as he snapped the waistband of Michael's boxers, which were, unfortunately, also Captain Astro themed.

Michael pressed his lips together and batted Brian’s hand away before bringing his arms up to try and cover his bare torso. It was late August, and the air was dense and muggy. They’d had to cut down on using the AC to save money; the slow creaking whir of the ceiling fan was all Michael had to keep him cool. He was just thankful he had decided against sleeping naked and at least had the Captain on his side covering his ass. Michael sighed. “Did you just come here in the middle of the night to give me shit or–Oh!” Michael froze as Brian tilted his head to the side and the moonlight caught his face, showing the bruise blooming on his cheek and the split in his bottom lip. “Christ Brian! What–” Michael didn’t need to finish the question. “That motherfucker.” His jaw clenched, fingers curling to fists at his sides. 

Brian snorted. “Hardly. Maybe if he fucked ol’ Joanie more often she wouldn’t be so uptight. Though, I doubt he can fit it in with that stick taking up so much room. Guess I can’t really blame the son of a bitch for his extra-marital activities.” He sighed and waved his hand at the open window. “So, are you going to let me the fuck in or not?” 

“Oh, sorry.” Michael blinked, taking a step back to let Brian clamber over the sill. Brian straightened up and ran a hand through his hair. His face was shuttered, emotionless, but his eyes were red-rimmed. Michael's chest ached looking at him. He reached up his hand, thumb brushing lightly beneath his lip. Brian didn’t wince at the contact but Michael did. Michael’s anger flared back. He shook his head hard. “That bastard can’t keep getting away with this shit. There’s got to be something we can do.” 

“There is.” Brian’s voice was low and steely with determination. “Let’s fucking leave.” 

Michael’s mouth dropped open. “Leave? But…we can’t.” Could they?

“Why not? What the fuck is keeping us in the Pitts? This place is dead. It’s beneath us. Come on.” He gripped Michael’s hips, pressed in close. “Let’s take the Brian and Mikey show on the road. Just you and me. We don’t need anything else. Anyone else.” 

Michael’s heart was jackhammering in his chest. He wanted to say yes. To take Brian by the hand and leap out the window; a couple of lost boys escaping off to Never-Neverland. But then he thought about all the bills piling up in the drawers in the kitchen, those angry red Final Notices. About his Ma hunched over, killing herself working day and night at the diner. He thought about Uncle Vic’s shadowed eyes, the pain lurking under his smile like he felt guilty sometimes for still being alive. The meager paycheck Michael got for bagging groceries part-time wasn’t much, but it made a difference. 

The fire in Brian’s eyes dimmed. The slant of his mouth was bittersweet; it was like he had seen every thought in Michael’s head. That was just the way it was between them. Always had been.

Michael’s eyes stung. He tried to breathe and almost choked on a sob. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I–” 

“Shh, Mikey.” Brian brushed a tear away from Michael’s cheek and folded him up in his arms, pressed his lips to his forehead. “It’s okay. I know.” 

Michael clutched desperately at the front of Brian’s shirt. If he just held on tight enough maybe he could keep him from disappearing. He pulled Brian in and kissed him hard. Brian opened his mouth and kissed back. They kissed all the time but not always like this. This was one of those deep, soul-crushing kisses that Brian seemed to dole out on special occasions. 

A whimper sounded from the back of Michael’s throat at the velvet sweep of Brian’s tongue against his own. Michael didn’t have any defenses when Brian kissed him like this. He couldn’t control his body’s reaction to Brian pressing so close to him, the way he moved his mouth. He broke away with a gasp. He didn’t want to pull away from Brian but needed to put a few inches of space between their hips. 

Brian’s soft chuckle and the twinkle in his eyes told Michael that it was too late. Michael tried to press down any embarrassment; his raging hormones weren’t important right now. He took a breath. “We just have to get through senior year. Then you’ll be able to go to any college you want, anywhere you want. You have all those scholarships already. Just…stay here. Ma won’t mind.” 

Brian snorted. “That’s all Deb needs: another mouth to feed.” He shook his head. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Michael’s. “Don’t worry, Mikey. I’ll figure it out. You’re right: It’s just one more year. I can handle it.” 

They stood there for a moment, breathing each other in. “At least stay here tonight,” Michael whispered. He felt Brian’s nod. 

“Yeah.” 

Michael took his hand and tugged him towards the bed. He knelt at Brian’s feet, undoing his laces and slipping his sneakers off. Brian popped open the fly of his jeans, and Michael helped him take those off as well. Brian lifted his arms, and Michael smiled as he slid the shirt up over Brian’s head, tossed it on the floor. The smile fell when Michael noticed the ugly purple mark on Brian’s side. His hand hovered over the bruise, close enough to feel the heat of Brian’s skin but not touching. “Does it hurt?” Brian shrugged, sniffing, eyes averted. Michael swallowed hard, not wanting to start blubbering again. “Lie down.” He gently pressed Brian’s shoulder down until he sat on the bed, then stretched out, rolling on his side with his back to Michael. 

Michael climbed in behind him. He kissed the back of Brian’s shoulder, carefully curling his arm around Brian’s waist as he fit his body perfectly against Brian’s. He closed his eyes and saw the wounds marring Brian’s beauty, the pain in his eyes. His gut twisted at the idea of Brian having to be in the same room with that asshole who had the nerve to call himself a father ever again. 

“Brian,” he whispered. “If you decide you can’t stay.” He winced, not able to keep his voice from cracking. “I mean, if you really need to go, I understand. I’ll miss you, but I’ll understand.”

“Shut the fuck up, Michael.” Brian clutched Michael’s hand and pulled it up to press against his chest. Michael read between the lines and understood what he was really saying–he was fluent in Brian Kinney after all: I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. 

Michael hiccupped a sob, rubbing his face into the pillow under Brian’s head. “Sorry.” 

Brian sighed, body shifting over to face Michael. He reached up to again wipe the tears from Michael’s cheek, seemingly oblivious to the ones leaking from his own eyes. “Christ, you’re pathetic,” he murmured, smiling softly: I love you, Mikey.