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It was the middle of the night when he woke up. Mikey blinked, trying to figure out what woke him. He reached over to see if it had woken Pete up too, before he realized there was sound coming from the living room and the other side of the bed was empty.
With a groan, Mikey pushed himself out of bed and padded his way down the hall, where Pete was sitting in a dark room, curled up under a blanket on the couch with the tv on.
Pete turned his head and smiled at Mikey. “Th’ fuck, Pete?” he mumbled.
“Sorry,” Pete apologized, still looking content, happy to see Mikey. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. If you want, I can turn it off?”
Mikey shook his head and came around the sofa, tugging on the blanket until Pete let one end free. He smiled, humming to himself as he tucked it around them both. Resting his head on Pete’s shoulder, Mikey’s eyes shifted towards the tv. He raised an eyebrow, even though Pete probably couldn’t tell from that angle. “Rudolph reruns at 3am? After Christmas?”
“Um. Not exactly?” His quiet nighttime laughter rumbled through his chest and into Mikey’s. “I tivoed it.”
“You tivoed Rudolph?” Mikey pulled away enough to look up at Pete; he was still sleepy enough that sitting up all the way seemed like a lot of work. “Do we have a five year old I forgot about?”
With more laughter, Pete choked out the words, “Fuck you!” Pete shoved Mikey so he was mostly upright, then rested his head on Mikey’s shoulder. Automatically, Mikey tilted his head so it pressed against Pete’s. “Don’t think I never noticed your Hermie socks.”
“Fuck you,” Mikey smiled the words. “That elf is a fucking inspiration.”
“God, it’s bad enough I can’t relive my childhood right because fucking tivo, that’s bullshit, right?” Pete half-yawned through the words, “Don’t turn it into some kind of life lesson from Gerard.”
Mikey giggled, nudging Pete. “Shh, I like this part!”
Pete kept quiet for five minutes; for him that was practically a record, especially since it was a movie they’d both seen more times than they could count. “I always kinda thought Santa was a fucking douche on this.”
“Mmm?” Mikey nuzzled the top of Pete’s head.
“Well, yeah. I mean, he lets his deer call the shots and run off, like, a little kid. And makes fun of him just like they do. But when he’s desperate, he asks the guy to help like it’s a privilege to help him.”
“I’m sorry?” Mikey sits up a little more. “D’you think Rudolph should have said no?”
With a snort, Pete turned and gave Mikey a look. “And screw over all those kids and the misfit toys?” Something to the way he said that, the toys were clearly his favorite. “No, but they should make it clear he’s doing it for the right reasons.”
“Maybe he wasn’t,” Mikey pointed out. “Rudolph was kinda desperate to find love and approval, so maybe he wasn’t doing it for the right reasons at all.”
Pete sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “Hermie should have become a therapist, not a dentist.” In the middle of the night, Pete was always more likely to get morose and overthink things.
Brushing a kiss against his cheek, Mikey fought his way from under the blanket. Pete turned, giving him a questioning look. He looked cold and lonely already. “I can’t change how the movie goes, but let me make you some cocoa to make up for it.”
A serious look on his face, Pete tugged at Mikey’s wrist until Mikey bent down. He pressed a kiss to Mikey’s mouth. “Thanks, Mikey.”
Mikey sleepily stumbled to the kitchen. It was a miracle there wasn’t anything on the floor for him to trip over, because he wasn’t likely to notice until it was too late to catch himself.
He blinked at the cabinets. Even though Mikey usually did the grocery shopping, it didn’t mean he knew where anything was; Pete always moved things when he wasn’t looking, then laughed because Mikey couldn’t find anything.
Opening and shutting doors at random, Mikey was starting to wonder if they even had cocoa mix. He pretty much stuck to coffee, so he never really made it. And he was pretty sure that crunching up chocolate cereal wasn’t going to cut it.
An arm slipped around his waist. “What’s taking so long?”
Mikey sighed. “I can’t find the cocoa mix. We do have some, right?”
Pete rested his head on Mikey’s shoulderblade. “You missed the end of the movie.” He guided Mikey towards the pantry. “Second shelf from the top, the light blue box on the righthand side.”
“Oh.” He didn’t really understand why it was by the crackers and not the coffee, but whatever. At least he wasn’t gonna have to go to the store.
He got out a mug and stumbled towards the microwave, Pete still following like he was attached. A yelp came from the floor as Mikey tripped over Hemingway, but he caught himself on the counter. Pete abandoned his place to kneel down and pet the dog. “Oh, hey, you might want to turn on a light?” he suggested.
That…made sense. Other than the part where they’d both be blinded by full light. Mikey pressed the button to turn on the light under the microwave. Pete stayed on the floor with Hemmy as he mixed the cocoa and heated it, but when Mikey held out the mug, he pushed himself to his feet.
Pete perched on the counter and Mikey leaned against it, his head resting on Pete’s arm. They both knew Mikey was crap at making cocoa even just from a packet, but Pete drank it anyhow. “Think Patrick’ll let me write a song and call it Swiss Miss Bliss?”
Mikey smiled. “If we ignore the use of a registered name, I still think Patrick’s sick of singing songs about me.”
“But I’m not sick of writing them,” Pete countered with a grin.
Mikey’s arm snaked around Pete, warm against his belly, fingers hooked around his side. “I kind of like hearing them too,” he admitted. The songs he liked best were the ones Pete wrote and didn’t share. Sometimes Mikey would wake up and notice his pillow crinkling, and smile to himself as he read what Pete had left for him. He’d fold up the paper and carry it in his pocket all day. Gerard commented on how happy he seemed those days, and Mikey would just touch his pocket and smile to himself before going back to humming.
He was pretty sure there were songs Pete wrote about him that neither he nor Patrick got to see. Mikey wondered what they sounded like in Pete’s head, but he knew even if he asked, it wasn’t a question that could be answered. Pete would probably say they sounded like snow forts and warm blankets, or something equally abstract. Something that would almost, almost make sense, but not quite.
The kitchen floor was cold on Mikey’s bare feet, so he shifted, standing on one foot and rubbing the other on the back of his pajama pants.
“Come back to bed?” Mikey suggested when Pete set down the empty mug. Pete pushed himself off the counter, rocking against Mikey as he landed. When he kissed Mikey, he tasted like chocolate and fake marshmallows.
“I’m not tired,” he protested as he rested his forehead on Mikey’s shoulder. He was, maybe, but not the kind of tired that meant he was going to fall asleep.
Reaching over Pete’s shoulder, Mikey turned off the microwave light. “Uh-huh.” He started walking backwards, leading Pete back to the bedroom. “Well maybe you’re not, but I am, okay? And without your sorry ass in bed, I don’t sleep the same.”
He backed into the doorframe, making a face as he slid to the side to walk through it. Pete’s forehead was still on his shoulder, so they were doing this completely blind.
It took longer than it should have to reach the bedroom; they were moving slow. Mikey kept stopping for no reason, just standing there with his eyes shut and running his fingers through Pete’s hair like he couldn’t remember what he’d been doing.
Once they were in the bedroom, legs bumping against the side of the bed, Pete finally let go of Mikey to burrow into the now-cold heap of blankets. Mikey moved slower, crawling in next to him and fighting for enough blankets the small of his back wouldn’t be exposed and cold.
Laying on his left side, Pete was turned away from Mikey, but still close enough Mikey could feel the heat radiating from his body. Mikey’s fingers curled against the warmth of Pete’s belly, sliding up his hoodie to get closer to it.
Pete rolled closer, laying on his other side, both their eyes closed as he kissed Mikey. Mikey groaned sleepily as Pete’s leg slid between his. “Ngh, sleep, Pete.” He didn’t sound like he meant it, though, so Pete started unzipping Mikey’s hoodie. Mikey tried to bat his hands away. “No, ‘s cold!”
“Sexing would keep you warm,” Pete suggested with a wide grin. “I am fully prepared to make that sacrifice to keep you warm, Mikeyway.” He shivered as Mikey pressed his cold toes to the backs of Pete’s legs.
Eyes still shut, Mikey smiled. He leaned in and bumped noses with Pete, kissing him long and slow before mumbling, “In the morning…” He was tired, even if he didn’t want to be at the moment.
With Mikey wrapped around him, Pete was almost feeling sleepy too. He let himself shut his eyes, resting his head against Mikey’s chest as he tried not to think too hard. It was late, but he was warm, and inwardly buzzing with a quiet happiness; Pete didn’t even notice as he drifted back to sleep.