Chapter Text
Mike stared at the messy pot and plates in front of him, but he didn't see anything as the incident kept replaying in his head.
Eddie's lifeless body hit the ground with a loud thud, wine-red blood pooling out from his head, over and over.
Mike blinked.
He hated how almost everything in the sink was red.
He couldn't even sit still without shaking on the ride back home, not to mention washing these dishes that somehow looked as if they're covered in...
Blood.
His eyes felt warm as the tears gathered.
Someone came downstairs.
Briggs.
He immediately turned away as Briggs entered the kitchen, not wanting be seen while in a vulnerable state, not like this.
"Want a hand with those?"
"No," Mike replied, trying his best not to let out a shaky voice. "I think I actually wanna be alone right now."
"I see they've left you a plate."
Mike turned to look at the kitchen island. There was a plate. He felt grateful, but still wouldn't eat it since he felt like he could throw up any minute. "I thought there were no leftovers."
"Charlie likes you." Briggs gave his shoulder a squeeze, then he walked away.
"Hey, Briggs." Mike called.
Briggs turned back.
"Why don't you eat it? I don't have an appetite." Mike suggested.
"Nah, man. Just heat it up tomorrow." Briggs shook his head.
Mike understood that no one wouldn't like to eat a plate that was reserved for someone else. But in this situation, he wouldn't care if someone would eat his plate, instead, would be very thankful.
"Nah, you missed sauce night too."
Briggs just gave him a soft smile and a slight nod. "Yeah."
Mike turned back to the disaster in the sink. He couldn't even look at them directly without his tears gathering more and more.
He heard footsteps approaching, but he kept his head down.
Briggs gently lifted his chin up, his warm brown eyes met Mike's glassy blue ones.
Mike felt Briggs' warm lips pressing on his forehead. He felt like melting in the older agent's arms. A new feeling sparked up in his chest, the yearning for comfort which he didn't know he needed it from Briggs, and only Briggs.
For a second, everything was okay.
Until Briggs pulled away. Mike almost whined at the absence of his warmth.
"It's just sauce, Mike." Briggs whispered then left.
Mike let his tears fall quietly, then gathered himself and got to work.