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Somehow, doing laundry had become one of the most chaotic activities in Michael’s life.
The problem, such as it was, lay with sorting out their individual hampers. Gerry owned so many articles of black clothing they could fill the washer with just dark fabric, and Michael refused to risk the safety of any of his favorite sweaters by mixing loads. It should not have been much of an ordeal; after all, Michael did not wear much black, and Gerry hardly wore anything but.
Outside of their flat, at least.
At home, especially when it was time for bed, well, that was a whole different story. Gerry was quite fond of Michael’s soft yellow sweater. And the blue one. Basically, any of his shirts or sweaters were fair game, as far as Gerry was concerned.
For Michael’s own part, Gerry owned several hoodies that he adored. In all honesty, he didn’t even remember the last time he had worn his own pajamas. He’d developed a habit, come bedtime, of reaching over to Gerry’s side of the closet and grabbing the first soft item he could find.
As a result, laundry day was always…messy. Michael had realized almost immediately that he never wanted it to be any other way.
Not long after they’d moved in together, their first laundry day had started out normally enough; Michael had been digging through his own basket, making sure nothing labelled “Dry Clean Only” had accidentally wound up in it. Gerry had been sitting nearby with his own basket when he’d unearthed a splash of color – one of Michael’s sweaters.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, hugging it to his chest, “I really like this one. It might take some persuading to convince me to give it back.”
“What are you talking about? You’re just going to steal it back the second it comes out of the dryer.” They had only been living together a few days and Michael had already lost the hope of ever getting to wear the sweater again.
“Does that mean you don’t want it back?”
Michael considered his options, pulling one of Gerry’s hoodies out of his own pile. “Alright. We trade.”
“I think you can do better than that,” Gerry teased.
“Alright. What do you want, then?”
“The sweatshirt…And a kiss,” Gerry said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Hmmm…” Michael hummed, pretending to consider. “I’ll take that deal.”
Gerry grinned, practically launching himself across the space between them and into Michael’s lap. Cupping Michael’s face gently with his hands, he kissed him, slow and sweet.
It ended far too soon for Michael’s liking, and he pressed his forehead to Gerry’s, breathless.
“Worth it?” Gerry asked.
Michael hadn’t bothered to answer, grabbing Gerry’s chin to pull him into another kiss.
It became a tradition of sorts over the few months they had been sharing a flat. There had yet to have been an occasion where sorting out their laundry had taken less than two hours.
Once, Michael had dared to ask for two kisses in return for one of Gerry’s favorite shirts. Gerry had immediately accused him of war profiteering, demanding “reparations of equal value.” They did not end up getting any laundry done that day, the resulting make out session leading them to abandon their piles of half-sorted laundry entirely.
Today, they had managed to sort out everything in just over two hours. Michael was quite proud of them, even if he knew it was mainly his insistence that they leave enough time to wash all their blankets as well that had kept the two of them relatively on-task.
Lost in thought as he was, Michael did not see the vaguely Gerry-shaped lump of comforter lying on the ground in front of the dryer until it was too late. He tripped with a decidedly undignified yelp, somehow managing to cushion his fall with the sheets he’d been carrying over from the linen closet.
“What – Gerry!” He protested.
The lump moved, Gerry partially unearthing himself from the mound of fabric before dragging himself over to curl around Michael, blanket and all. “Sorry, babe.”
“What are you doing?” Michael laughed.
“I was going to bring this over to the bed, but it’s so nice and warm I decided I didn’t want to move,” Gerry explained.
He was right – it was warm, rather uncomfortably so for Michael, who did not make a habit of wearing multiple layers of clothing in all weather. Gerry snuggled up against his side, the light filtering through the fabric covering them casting his face in an almost angelic light.
“You’re here now, which only makes it even more perfect.”
Michael huffed out a quiet giggle, kissing him on the forehead. “I love you, Gerry, but I can’t stay like this. It’s too hot.”
“Noooo,” Gerry whined, clinging tighter as Michael tried to free himself from the stifling confines of the comforter.
“Gerry, please,” Michael laughed, “We just washed this, I don’t want to sweat all over it!”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Gerry said.
Michael grabbed the edge of the comforter, flinging it off and rolling over in one swift motion, propping himself up on his elbows so as not to squash Gerry too much beneath him.
Free from the heavy fabric, the rush of cool air was an instant relief. Gerry did not seem to agree, protesting loudly. Michael grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him, Gerry’s objections dying with an abrupt “Mm!” as he practically melted in Michael’s arms.
Michael pulled away with a grin, planting a kiss on the tip of Gerry’s nose before pushing himself to his feet and retrieving the sheets from where they had fallen.
“That’s not fair,” Gerry pouted, arms crossed as he glared up at Michael. He looked absolutely adorable, lying there in Michael’s shirt, blushing, his hair a mess.
“All’s fair in love and war, darling,” Michael said sweetly. “Be a dear and bring the comforter over for me?”
He complied, grumbling quietly about revenge as he wrapped it around his shoulders and walked over, watching intently as Michael stretched the fitted sheet over the mattress.
“I still don’t understand how you manage to do that so perfectly,” he said.
“I still don’t understand how you manage to mess up so badly every time you try,” Michael countered. “I’ve never met someone so good at getting tangled up in a big fabric rectangle; you must have a secret power.”
“I am cursed,” Gerry said, dramatically flopping down on to the bed, immediately ruining Michael’s attempts to lay down the top sheet.
“Gerry!” Michael protested, though he was too amused for it to really be scolding. He grabbed Gerry’s hand, pulling him back to his feet and into his arms.
“I refuse to believe that,” he murmured into Gerry’s hair.
He felt Gerry sigh, leaning into the hug. “Maybe you’re right. How can I be, with an angel like you in my life?”
“Don’t worry, my love; as long as I’m around, you’ll never have to make the bed yourself.”
“As long as I keep doing the dishes?” Gerry teased.
“I didn’t say that.”
Gerry laughed “You’ve got a deal.”
They stood like that for a few minutes more, swaying gently to music only they could hear. Michael could stay there forever, wrapped up in Gerry’s arms, the late afternoon sun streaming in through the window. Still, he wasn’t too upset, when the moment ended; they had a lifetime’s worth of little moments to look forwards to.
“I’m going to go make dinner,” Gerry announced, stretching up to kiss Michael’s cheek before heading towards the kitchen.
Michael made a small noise of discontent at the loss of contact. “Ok, I – wait. You made dinner last night. It’s my turn.” It was hardly fair to Gerry, asking him to cook again. They always took turns.
“Well, seeing as you’re busy, I guess you’ll just have to let me help, and make it up to me later,” he said, winking before he turned and left the room.
Michael was glad he was facing away, unable to see the blush he felt creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. “Alright,” he managed, “It’s a deal.”