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Luke has been Michael's neighbor for almost three years now. He knows the guy's routine pretty much down to a T, and originally, the knowledge wasn't by choice. It's just that their bedrooms shared a wall, and his alarm clock was so loud it literally woke Luke up through the wall every time it went off.
After the first week, he'd stomped down the hall, slamming his fist on the door of 3B at five in the morning, almost punching his neighbor in the face when the door flung open unexpectedly soon.
Luke had jabbed his finger in Michael's chest, staring into those sleepy emerald eyes and stuttering a little because they were a little too beautiful for his own good, especially accompanied by the dyed blonde hair he sported with them. "Find a new alarm clock," he'd said, and in retrospect, Luke realizes his tone was super bitchy, but he didn't care then. He'd just wanted to sleep past five a.m., it was probably like his constitutional right, or something.
He actually made fast friends with Michael after that. The guy had purchased a new clock the next day, even demonstrating it through the wall and calling for Luke to knock when the volume of it reached an acceptable level. Luke laughed, knocking on the wall softly.
That was the only real problem they had up until Michael's first "guest" came over.
It had been a Friday night, pushing midnight, which was actually rather early for Michael to get home on weekends. Luke had been up studying for a midterm when he heard two voices in the hallway, which was what peaked his curiosity enough to pause his music to listen more intently.
There was mostly indecipherable mumbling, accompanied by giggles that weren't Michael's, but still definitely male. Then, keys jingling, a door opening, closing, and then lots of moaning and wall banging that kept Luke up almost all night.
The same thing happened the next Friday night, only this time, Luke had been asleep when they got home, and he was pulled out of what was practically a coma by an incessant thump, thump and repeated cries of "oh, Michael".
In his heated rage at being kept up by his neighbor's hugely active sex life, Luke had waited til they were done, then reached behind his head and slammed his fist on the wall two times, pointedly.
Luke found a sticky note saying 'Sorry, Lukey :( x' taped to his front door the next morning. And yeah, it was hard to stay mad at that, even though Michael's Friday night wallbanging became like, routine.
A year into their life as neighbors was when a new routine of theirs began.
It was eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, and Luke was making pancakes on his stove, sipping coffee mindlessly when there was a knock on his door. Confused, Luke had looked to the calendar on his fridge, wondering if maybe he'd scheduled some sort of service for that morning. But the day was blank.
So slowly, Luke opened the door to his apartment, raising an eyebrow when Michael stood in the hallway, wearing only sweatpants and a baggy hoodie.
"Um?" Luke had asked, just sort of staring at his neighbor, who was fidgeting a lot and making nervous glances to his own front door.
"Hey, Luke, I...look, I had some company over last night. But this guy, like, he doesn't leave if I'm there when he wakes up. So can I, uh, like...chill here for a bit?" Michael bit his lip then, a pleading look in his eyes.
And because Luke was such a good person, he let Michael in, laughing softly at the ridiculousness of the situation.
It was now two years since that tradition began.
Luke's pulled out of his sleep by this soft scratching on the wall above his head, the wall he shares with Michael. He turns his body over, groggily opening his eyes to look at the clock on his nightstand.
Eight thirty. Right on time.
In response, Luke taps lightly on the wall, letting his neighbor know he's awake now, to come on over whenever he's ready.
He still feels sort of fuzzy with sleep when he climbs out of bed, singlet riding up and exposing a stripe of his stomach as he stretches his arms wide. His spine pops in a couple places, and he groans softly at the loosening of the joints.
Feet padding softly on the hardwood floors, Luke makes his way to the kitchen, unlocking his front door when he passes by it. He yawns, turning on the lights in each of the rooms he enters, hoping the light will wake him up a bit. It doesn't do much, but still helps.
Luke fills his coffee pot with water from the sink, then places it back in the machine and presses the start button. The smell of brewing coffee fills his nose a few seconds later, and he nods at the machine in approval.
It's eight forty when Luke hears his front door open and close, followed by a loud sigh of relief.
"Honey, I'm home!" Michael calls out, and Luke snorts at him even though his face is buried in the fridge while he looks for the eggs and there's no way Michael will hear it.
Once he finds the eggs, Luke stands back up, setting the carton on the kitchen counter next to all his other usual breakfast ingredients. Fresh fruit, milk, pancake mix, the like.
Michael enters the kitchen then, giving Luke this overly enthusiastic kiss on the cheek that's so sloppy it actually leaves a wet residue. Luke rolls his eyes and wipes it away with a paper towel.
"You're so gross," Luke mutters, voice still rough with sleep since he hasn't spoken at all yet this morning.
He turns around, eyes catching on Michael's hair, which has changed color since he saw it last Saturday. It's purple now, was dark brown the last time. Sometimes he sees his neighbor-turned-best-friend throughout the week, but the past seven days have been a bit hectic for Luke, and he hasn't been able to.
"That's a nice color." Luke tells him, and he doesn't miss the content hum Michael gives him in return.
"Thanks. Wanted a change." Michael says, opening one of the cabinets and grabbing two coffee mugs from the shelf they're kept on. He makes his way over to the corner where the coffee machine is steaming away, and he waits patiently for it to finish brewing. Luke observes Michael's clothing - a loose white t-shirt and sweats Luke knows are new but he feels a bit too awkward to compliment them.
Luke smiles instead of speaking, turning on one of the burners on his stove and placing a pan onto it. While he waits for it to heat up, he turns his attention to mixing the pancake batter.
"Banana or blueberry?" Luke asks simply, continuing to stir the batter as he nods in the direction of the counter he's laid the fruit out on.
Michael pauses briefly, chewing his lip and thinking hard, before he nods and says, "Banana. Feeling banana today."
The younger of the two nods in agreement, placing down the bowl and grabbing two bananas from the bunch. He peels them, then uses a butter knife to slice them into chunks over the bowl of batter. They fall right in, and Luke's tummy growls in anticipation.
"How was class this week?" Michael asks, grabbing the handle of the coffee pot when it finally beeps and pouring the hot liquid into each of the mugs.
Luke groans, reaching for the wooden spoon and stirring the banana slices gently into the mixture before pouring a spoonful of it into the warmed up pan. "Two exams, and I had a huge presentation on Thursday. Thought I was gonna die, but I made it through."
The purple haired boy nods, smiling as he reaches past Luke to grab the creamer and sugar shaker. "You're so smart. Proud of you." Michael winks at Luke then, and though it should seem condescending and teasing, it's really not, and it makes Luke's stomach flutter.
It's not that he, like, has a crush on Michael, or whatever. Because he mostly doesn't. It's just that sometimes, when they're all domestic like this on the Saturday mornings they share exclusively, he feels like he does.
When Michael leaves and Sunday arrives, the feeling always passes. Okay; sometimes it passes.
"Thanks, Mikey." Luke replies, checking the underside of the pancake before using his spatula to flip it. It's perfectly browned, and he emits a whoop of success. Michael cheers with him upon seeing the Hall-of-Fame-worthy pancake, and they high five.
"Damn, look at you! The pancake connoisseur. That one's mine," he says, pointing to it, and Luke rolls his eyes.
Michael moves behind him, making his way into the small nook and starting to set the table. He stays there until Luke finishes the large stack of pancakes, just as he does every Saturday.
It's around nine o'clock when they finally sit down at the table, the steaming pancakes on a large platter in the center. Michael has fixed them both the coffee they like, Michael's being heavily creamed and sugared since he doesn't actually like the taste of coffee, prefers to pretend it's cocoa or something, and Luke's is straight black.
Luke grabs the syrup from the counter on his way into the nook, wiggling it at Michael who nods excitedly, snatching it and unscrewing the lid before pouring an excessive amount over his plate of pancakes. When he hands the bottle to Luke, the younger boy does the same.
It's silent for a bit while they eat, but the first five minutes or so usually are. They're just refueling, getting ready to start the day, so they stuff their faces and pound back the caffeine.
When they're about halfway done with their first round of banana pancakes, Luke nods in the general direction of Michael's apartment. "Tell me about this one."
It's not rude, the way Luke says it, just sort of an inside joke between the two of them. Michael comes over on Saturday mornings to avoid his Friday night companions, so Luke just started asking about them one time. It's been a regular thing ever since.
Michael chuckles. "His name's Calum, or something. Nice kid." He stuffs a bite of food into his mouth, cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk, and Luke can't contain the giggle that bubbles out past his lips. Michael flips him off, smiling as best as he can.
"Yeah, he sounds interesting." Luke rolls his eyes, bringing his coffee mug to his lips and taking a small sip. "C'mon, tell me more!"
Michael shakes his head, swallowing his mouthful and laughing. "No!"
Luke smirks over the rim of his cup. "Why not, Clifford? Too embarrassed?"
The other boy laughs out loud, scraping another pancake onto his plate and unscrewing the lid to the syrup once more. "Oh, Lukey, trust me. I've got nothing to be embarrassed about."
"Not even the fact that you're a one pump chump?" Luke winks, squeaks a little when Michael throws the syrup lid at his face, his mouth agape in shock like he can't believe what Luke's just said. His eyes hold a smile, though, despite it.
"I'll have you know, I'm extremely talented in the bedroom department. You've heard it!" Michael defends.
Luke can't help but laugh. Michael's definitely no amateur, Luke knows that, can tell by the long duration of the sex he overhears and the resulting moans of Michael's different partners. Sometimes, it sounds so impressive, Luke almost wants to march over and join. Michael would let him, probably, but the blonde boy shakes away the thoughts. He's getting distracted. He'd much rather tease his best friend.
"Minute man," Luke mumbles quietly, a smile flickering across his lips. Michael's eyes widen in terror at the accusation.
"My sex life is highly intriguing, and very worthwhile!" Michael says pointedly, stabbing his pancake with some force. Luke giggles at the desperation in his tone.
"Oh, I'll bet." Luke says, but while he's bullshitting, Luke would actually totally bet that Michael's sex life is intriguing, and he'd love to know firsthand. He doesn't vocalize that, though. Can't, because that's not the relationship they have. The teasing, the Saturday mornings, this is what they have.
Michael just shakes his head, laughing in spite of himself. They both know Michael is none of the things Luke's accused him of, but he acts as though he's lost some sort of battle anyways.
"Gee, Luke, you're so nice to me, maybe I should invite you into my bed one of these days," Michael winks, and it's in good fun, but Luke's heart beat still picks up a little at the words.
He laughs, albeit nervously, to dismiss Michael's joking suggestion. "Keep dreaming," Luke chokes out.
Michael smirks, reaching for his cup of coffee and tossing the rest of it back like it's some kind of shot. "You'd love it."
Luke rolls his eyes. "Maybe I would, but then who would let you into their apartment when you want to avoid me the next morning?"
It's a valid point, and Michael acknowledges that it's one by shrugging his shoulders and nodding in agreement. "Touche. Maybe we'll just stick to pancakes."
Luke almost feels a pang of disappointment now that the teasing flirtation in his friend's voice has dissipated. "Yeah. Pancakes."
Michael hangs around for about another hour and a half after breakfast, helping with the dishes (which he complains about the whole time, as per usual) and wiping down the counter. They sit down to watch some mindless television in Luke's living room after cleaning, curled up together and nursing their final cups of coffee. Michael always stays until the coffee pot is empty, and it usually ends up taking about three cups for each of them before it is.
At almost eleven, Michael stands up, and Luke immediately misses the warmth of the boy pressing to his side. He stands, too, following Michael to the kitchen where the purple haired boy is placing his mug in the dishwasher.
"Think he'll be gone yet?" Luke asks, doesn't know why he does. He asks every time, like it'll make Michael stay a little longer, but he never does so.
Michael checks the clock on Luke's stove and nods. "Should be, yeah."
Luke smiles softly, setting his half empty cup of coffee on the counter and starting towards his front door. Michael looks around to make sure he's got all of his things, which is ridiculous because he only ever brings his phone, and that's right in his pocket, Luke can see it sticking out. He wonders distantly if maybe Michael's looking for a reason to stay.
Maybe he thinks Luke wouldn't want him around any longer than their usual couple of hours, which is outrageous. Luke wants him around forever. Loves his presence.
Whatever he was looking for, Michael must decide to do without it, because he follows Luke to the front door, smiling when Luke opens it for him.
"Thanks for breakfast, yeah?" Michael says, lingering in the doorway arch, not stepping out into the hallway just yet.
Luke nods, smiling. "Yeah, no problem. See you next Saturday?" He hopes his voice doesn't sound too hopeful, because he knows it doesn't need to be. Michael would come around on their Saturday mornings no matter what. He's come over before when he was as sick as a dog, begging for soup and aspirin instead of coffee and breakfast. Luke liked that Saturday as much as any, probably liked it better.
Michael's eyes sparkle, and he leans against the door frame. "Of course, duh. Oh, hey, if I pick up some chocolate chips, can we put them in the pancakes next week?"
Luke bites his lip when it threatens to spread into a cheeky grin, and horrifyingly, he feels his face heat up with a blush. "I - uh, sure. Yeah, definitely. Chocolate chips."
Michael doesn't tease him, though, like he should have. He just keeps a straight-ish face, leaning forward and pressing a very soft, incredibly light brush of his lips to Luke's cheek, dangerously close to his mouth. As soon as it's there, it's gone, and Michael is blushing, too. "See you Saturday, then," he says.
"Saturday," Luke nods.
Michael smiles sheepishly, feet fidgeting a little before he offers a small wave, turning and walking the short distance back to his apartment. It's an awkward - yet adorable - goodbye, and Luke finds himself shaking with excitement as he closes the door. Once it's shut, he leans back against it, closing his eyes.
"Saturday," he repeats, unable to fight the smile breaking out across his face.