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While Mike had been lulled into a thin, bound to fall apart at any second, sense of security in his life over the past year or so, he’d quickly become reacquainted with the looming anxiety that used to live in his stomach.
You’d just wanted a nice date with him. It was flattering- he’d never seen himself as a ‘take out for more than one date without a deep feeling of pity’ kind of guy. But then, smoke doesn’t start without a fire, because he could count the second dates he’d had on one hand.
That was probably the only major reason he was worried. He didn’t have a reason to be worried about Abby. Vanessa was his go-to ‘in case of emergencies’ babysitter for a reason.
Her only real con was that she needed to be paid with money.
But that brought him to the here and now, where he was stood outside in front of the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at, about 5 minutes until that meeting time. A slightly chilly spring breeze rushed past him, and the sky was coloured like sorbet as the sun was dipping past the horizon. In theory, it was an almost picturesque evening for a first date.
But, he was also standing there with a fallen through reservation that he could do nothing about.
So his nerves were totally fine. Obviously. The fact that his hair had completely lost the idea that it had been taken care of at all because he’d been running his hands through it so much was a testament to that.
“Boo.”
While it was meant as a lighthearted greeting, the last thing you expected was for Mike to actually jump right out of his skin.
“Hi?” You tried again. He let out a sigh, trying to calm himself down.
“Hi.” He replied. “You look nice.”
“Yeah?” You asked, giving a little spin to show off your outfit, trying to mask how giddy the admittedly simple compliment made you.
“Yeah. Real pretty.” He offered with a weak smile. It didn’t last, but you’d long since learned to treasure every one you saw. Because with Mike they rarely did. “You walk here?” He asked, genuinely surprised.
“Yeah. It was only a fifteen minute walk down town so…” You shrug. “So this is the place?” You asked, looking over the restaurant. “Pretty swanky. Especially for you.”
You say that, but you clearly still had some kind of idea on what he was planning, if only because he explicitly told you to dress nice. He didn’t look so bad himself- even if you recognized most of the outfit as his go-to interview clothes.
But hey- the suit jacket was new. And, upon closer inspection, very obviously a rental.
Despite his obviously dour vibes, he still playfully rolls his eyes at your jab. But just as quickly he’s enveloped in that feeling of infinite sadness he had back when you first met him. Yikes.
“Yeah, uh…” Mike’s expression was anything but positive, but it was almost like he was pretending it was. “Don’t… Don’t get your hopes up.” And there it went. The lie of optimism shattered like glass as he stared at his feet, idly tapping his shoe against the concrete ground. “Reservations fell through, so…”
He paused. He hadn’t had the chance to think this far. He’d been too busy spiraling with little to no mental clarity.
“Then let’s not worry about it.” You chirp, physically turning him away from the source of his ire. “Town’s got plenty of places for a cute couple to eat out. Eat at.” You suddenly correct. This night was going to be wholesome and sweet- not the place for Freudian slips.
He let out a sound halfway to tongue click, halfway to a chuckle. “I wanted this to be nice for you-”
“For us.” You correct. But then, something about his expression tells you that at no point did he even consider himself in the equation.
“-But there also aren’t a lot of other nice places around. You sure you wanna… settle?”
Because to him, at least, there was no harm in rainchecking.
…Not true, there was tons of harm in rainchecking. Almost exclusively financial harm, but… He was sure he could convince himself that he could make something like this work twice in a month. Probably.
“I wouldn’t think of it as ‘settling’,” You assure him, giving his bicep a firm pat as you link your arm with his. The high heels you were wearing actually made you just a bit taller than him. “Think of it as like… a… preamble.”
“Preamble?” He parrots, brow quirked in amused curiosity.
“Or adventure. I don’t know. Depends if you see it as more of a talking or doing thing.” Without thinking you start walking in whatever direction. “Sparky’s is just down this way, no?”
This forces a snort of laughter out of Mike. “Pretty sure by now the shady types lurk in there. Y'know- makes it the sorta place a pretty girl shouldn’t be going to when the sun sets.” You gasp in over the top offense before resettling and clicking your tongue at him.
“You’re only saying that because it’s cheap and in the middle of nowhere.”
-And in Mike’s defense, he had plenty of good reasons to equate those two qualities to places no one should be after dark-
“Although… I think I did hear someone plot a murder there one time? Hm.” You brush away the thought almost as quickly as it entered your mind in the first place. “Doesn’t matter. I know I’m fine there. They love me.”
“Mmhmm.” You pout in return. He wasn’t buying it; not surprising. Mike usually didn’t buy things. Wasn’t in his budget. “And what ‘they’ are we talking about?” He asked, the question laced with a light mocking tone.
“Sparky, duh.”
He blinked once in surprise. Admittedly he never even thought that Sparky’s had a Sparky. You can’t help but let out a snort of a giggle at his blank expression.
“He’s real sweet. Gives that old-timey bartender feel. In a good way. Plus he’s always there during closers. Y’know, cause Ness and Tracy still have school to worry about.”
“So do you just live at Sparky’s part time then?”
You shrug. “I don’t go there that much. It’s just nice there. It’s cheap. I used to go there all the time after bad break-ups. Sparky’s good with that kinda thing, y’know?”
He wasn’t sure if you meant the place or the person, but he only nodded absentmindedly. It kind of fascinated him to see that you two really did come from two different sides of the tracks. It was interesting to hear you talk about yourself, even for a bit. Made him wish you did it more.
Mike was pulled out of his thoughts when a loud ‘snap’ cracked through the air. You’d completely stopped, and by proxy, so did he. Slowly you looked down to your feet, one of your heels had broken cleanly off your shoe. You picked it up off the ground and stared at it, aimlessly rolling it in your palm before pocketing it with a sigh.
You stare at the ground, now noticeably off-kilter, but soon you look over to Mike, a slightly forced smile on your lips.
“So, Sparky’s, right?”
It was far from a glamorous venue for a date, but you’d proven to be right about your analysis of the place. Even after dark it seemed like a cozy place, and Sparky himself really did embody that ‘old-timey bartender feel’, probably only enhanced by his tendency to stand at the counter, hand drying glasses as he kept an eye on his patrons.
You’d made quick, familiar small talk with the older man before you’d both ordered. In much less time than Mike had anticipated, you’d been presented with two dishes with piping hot food.
“I still can’t believe you’ve barely eaten here. Didn’t you say you lived here forever?”
“We’ve moved around a lot. Used to be on the other side of town, but then mom wanted a… smaller house. Then we just needed cheaper and cheaper places to stay.” He shrugged. “Just never got around to it very often.”
You gave an acknowledging hum, digging into your dinner. “Maybe take Abby here sometime. She might like it. Plus Ness works in the mornings, he’s good with kiddos. Bit of a yapper though.”
Mike hummed in response, in a way that makes it sound like it’s something he might consider, but the might is underlined and italicized.
He might consider it.
It’s a very specific emotion that you’ve only heard conveyed so simply by him and exhausted fathers.
“Sorry this hasn’t been great so far.” He mumbled. “What with the reservations and your heel…”
“Don’t worry about it.” You reassure. “Besides, it could be worse.” You tell him, stabbing your fork into a piping hot home fry. “Could be like our other first date. If you want to even call it that.”
Mike’s brow furrowed as he idly swished his spoon back and forth through his deep red soup.
“How’d that go again?” He asked, voice quiet.
“You know,” You begin, quietly munching on your food. “Abby was with her other babysitter for the night, and super late you weren’t paying attention and tried to get into my house instead.” You laugh, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “It was weird. You weren’t even drunk or high, you were just… tired.”
“And after a bit you invited me in for drinks.”
You nod. “Right.”
If there was a time you pitied Mike, it was then. Just seeing a sad, tired, barely together man at your door. You’d seen him, but you hadn’t really talked beyond small, mundane things like mail mix-ups. You just figured maybe he needed a night to unwind. It wasn’t like you were doing anything. Besides, you needed to start building bridges again.
“I had wine in but… whiskey felt more appropriate. I might still have that bottle, actually…”
“And then we…” He trailed off, hoping you’d fill him in. You let out a quiet laugh as your face flushed a bit.
“Oh. You know…” He didn’t. “You told me about yourself mostly. Told me about Abby, told me about Garret- not specifically, just mentioned a brother, past tense. Financial struggle came up… But that’s how you spent your free night.”
“Getting wasted and spilling my guts to a stranger.,.”
“Yeah. Then…” You made a vague gesture with your fork. The rest wasn’t something to mention in mixed company. With almost certainly too much alcohol in either of your systems, lingering touches started, which turned to soft kisses which deepened rather fast. It was a strangely intimate night for people who were little more than strangers, but you both had failsafes; you could just rip up this relationship like so many others before it, and Mike very plainly just wouldn’t remember it happened.
That was Mike’s sticking point. He knew it happened because he remembered waking up in his neighbor’s bed, his clothing aimlessly scattered across the floor. You woke up not long after. Called him handsome. Joked about how you could babysit his sister if he could pay you like that.
So he did.
In hindsight it was probably something he should’ve put more thought into. But, at the end of the day, he’d have a bit more wiggle room, financially speaking.
“I actually can’t believe you agreed to it.”
“I kinda can’t either. I’ve never really been… active… like that.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. You seemed to have your hands full, so I get that it’d probably been a while.” At that, Mike only cleared his throat- loudly and intentionally. “What?”
He doesn’t say anything, but his expression is uncomfortable. A pit sinks in your stomach as his unspoken confession dawns on you.
“Oh God. Did I…? Were you?” He says nothing, refuses to hold eye-contact. But he nods. “And you were blackout. Jesus Christ…”
There’s a part of you that feels like your appetite is running off without you, but you still pop a homefry into your mouth.
A quiet “‘M sorry.” Passes your lips and for a long while that’s the last thing said aloud.
Part of him wants to say ‘it’s fine don’t worry about it’, but something about how the revelation seems to genuinely upset you tells him that it’d be a loop of a conversation.
He genuinely does think it’s fine though. Mostly because he’s fairly certain that if you both stayed sober during your first real encounter, it would’ve just been a rather melancholy experience for both of you. If the positive alternative was a drunk hookup, so be it.
Still, the silence is deafening, and for once, he hates it. Something about it makes the well-seasoned soup he’s eating taste watery. The low rumble of thunder he can hear under the ambient radio in the diner isn’t helping.
“So,” He starts, the word coming out stilted and awkward. “You said you came here after breakups a lot?” Is the first thing he can think of.
“Oh- uh.” Despite this, it still catches you off guard quite a bit. “Yeah.” You finally reply. He makes a small gesture, egging you to go on. You only shrug with a smile. “I don’t know. I guess some people go bar-hopping after relationships go south. I go to the same diner I’ve been going to since I was in junior high. Comfort food and all that.”
“Have you really been dumped that much?” This makes you laugh- not a hearty, honest laugh or a cute giggle, but an awkward, strained one.
“No.” You answer flatly. “No, I usually do the dumping.”
The elaboration only tightens the anxious knot at his core. “Yeah?”
You hum. “It’s a bad habit. I used to jump headfirst into new relationships with people I barely knew, then by the time I realized what I did I’d just freak out and leave. Then I’d come crawling back to Sparky.”
Suddenly Mike felt like the strange look Sparky had given him when he walked in- the one of genuine confusion- had actually made sense, if that’s really what he was used to from you.
“…Are we going to be like that?” He asked, staring into his almost empty bowl.
“Mmm…” You tapped your fork against your plate to a beat only you could hear. “No. I don’t think so, anyway.”
Mike opened his mouth to further press, but a clap of thunder outside jolted him out of it. The pitter-patter of rain thudded against the large windows, both of you stared at it for a moment, as if in disbelief.
“We should probably get out of here before it gets worse, huh?” You ask.
He pauses. He doesn’t really want to leave. He wants to stay in this moment with you- a little off, but still comfortable. But the next thing he knows, he has his wallet cracked open and your both standing under the small overhang, watching the rain aggravate more and more by the moment.
“We could just make a break for it.”
“Won’t that just break your other shoe?” He asks, flinching as water sliding off the overhang hits just past his shirt collar.
“I can take my shoes off.”
“You’ll get sick.” Mike sighs, thought visibly tracing across his face until his expression lit up. “Come here.” He ushers you closer until he can securely wrap an arm around you, fiddling with his suit jacket until it’s draped over both of you. Like a terrible, absorbent rain poncho.
“Listen,” Mike started, trying to make sure the jacket was adequately shielding you. More so than himself. “I am so sorry about tonight. I…” He cut himself off, feeling a slight shake to your shoulders. Shit.
He fumbled it. All you wanted was a nice night out- something that could lead to more nice nights out. But you made the mistake of wanting Mike Schmidt to fulfill that for you, a man doomed to fumble any meaningful romantic encounter he had.
“I’m sorry…” He repeated. The sound you were making only increased in volume. Then it hit him. You weren’t crying.
You were laughing. You were barely containing your giggles, but they were slipping out more and more.
“What are you talking about?” You asked, grinning ear to ear. He paused. If you asked him, this was just one disaster after the next. But now, with the way you were looking at him, he almost felt crazy for having any problems.
“It’s just…” He gestured to the rain.
‘You don’t control the weather.”
“Yeah but, that, with everything else…” He huffed out a single bitter chuckle. “I feel like the best part was that you were here.”
“Exactly!” You chirped out. “What I wanted was a night out with Mike Schmidt.”
“But-”
“So what if it wasn’t perfect?” You asked, cutting him off. “Where’s the appeal in firsts if they are?” Finally he realized your questions were at least a little rhetorical. “A friend asked me what the magic of a first kiss is supposed to be if they’re just awkward and terrible- but, I feel like that is the magic! Like, your teeth might clank or you don’t know what to do with your hands, and maybe you linger too long, but it still feels right and good because you’re with someone you care about.”
It’s only after you impassioned speech that you come back down to reality. You realize there are drops of rain hitting your scalp- you’ve long since escaped the comfort of the suit jacket and Mike is staring at you with an undeniably blank expression on his face.
“What I’m trying to say is,” You finally mention, dragging a lock of wet hair out of your face. “Is that I had a great time regardless.” You step back up to him, a hand goes to the back of his neck; the other rests on his cheek. He leans into your touch without thinking. After a beat, you pull him closer, locking lips with him in a gentle kiss.
Mike dropped his arms, disregarding protection from the rain to pull you by the hips to be even closer.
Even after you pulled away, you only rested your head against his shoulder. Gently, he swayed you from side to side, as if slow dancing to a song only he could hear as you both got soaked to the bone.
“We should probably call it a night.” He muttered into your ear. You hum in agreement but your feet stay planted where they are. After a moment, he chuckles before gently ushering you along the parking lot back to his car.
The drive is quiet, save for the heater and the gentle murmurs of the radio. The conversation is light, bordering on non-existent, but the drive is short and he seems in a much better mood.
“Hold on.” You speak up once you finally make it to your street. He doesn’t say anything, but he still stops. You stare at your house for a while. It’s dark. Your car’s still parked in the driveway. Your keys are in your hand, but you only mindlessly fiddle with them.
“Can I stay the night?” You finally ask after who knows how long. Mike seemed genuinely surprised by the question.
“Oh- yeah, no problem. Do you want to stop by your place or…?” He asked, hand lingering over the turn signal.
“Do you have something I could wear?” You ask without really thinking, gaze focused on the warm glow of his house, blurred by the rain. It was a fair question, your clothes were damp at best, still clinging to your skin.
“Uh…” Mike’s lips pressed to a fine line. “Mayyybe?” His fingertips tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel, complimenting the pattering thud of rain droplets. “I might have something, yeah.” He concluded, more certain.
“Then don’t worry about it.”
The next thing you knew you were rushing from the warm comfort of the car to the warm comfort of the house. Admittedly an easier task for Mike and a sobering reminder of your broken heel.
Still, as the door shuts behind you, you waste no time in enjoying the soft hum of a heater somewhere nearby. You’re calm. It’s nice.
“There you are.” You snap back up to reality as a voice unfamiliar to you greets you. “Abby’s in bed, but I was starting to get a bit worried about you when the rain really started pouring.”
“Please.” Mike replied, flipping through his wallet. “The car’s bad, but it’s not that bad. 35 good or?”
“Mike.” The woman- pretty and blonde- stares at him, hands firmly on her hips. “30, at most.”
“That isn’t even-“
She doesn’t say anything, yet he still cuts himself off. All she does is cross her arms, drumming her fingertips against her bicep. She raises one eyebrow at him.
“30 it is.” He mumbles out, handing her the small wad of bills. Most of them are fives. He turns to you. “I’ll go see if I can get you a towel and something to change into, okay?”
“Okay.” You say with a nod. Mike disappears into the back of the house, and now you’re left here with the mystery woman.
“Hello.” She greets after a moment of silence. Her smile is sweet, and to you, her demeanor gives ‘stern parent’ at worst.
“Hi.” You reply, returning the gesture at the very least. “You’re the other babysitter?”
This makes her laugh a little. It’s a nice sound. “Would that make you, the lucky lady of the night, the normal babysitter?”
Well when she says it like that…
“You almost make it sound shady.” You punctuate it with a bright smile, suppressing the reality that your circumstances might actually be a bit shady.
If she notices, she doesn’t say anything, only offering a hand which you take without hesitation. “Vanessa.” She finally introduces herself. She pauses for a moment before finishing with; “Vanessa Shelley.” You replied with your name in kind, but just as you were about to pull away, she slapped two slightly crumpled 5 dollar bills in your hand. You eye them curiously. “Can you get those back to Mike for me?” She asks, plucking a dark jacket off the coat rack. “He won’t take it back from me, but you would know that better than anyone, right?”
“Yep!” You squeak out with no hesitation. “Yeah uh… That’s Mike for you. Very uh- generous. Yep! Mhmm, mhmm.” Vanessa eyes you up curiously before shaking it off. You were a strange one. Still, she offered a final smile and a nod, pulling up her hood and venturing off into the rain. Barely a moment later you felt a towel drop onto your head.
Behind you was Mike, giving his head one last aggressive rub down with his own towel. His hair looked awful when he decided it was dry enough, some strands clung to his forehead, others stuck up at strange angles. Yet it was still endearing. Though his clothes were almost worse, somehow, his jacket was since discarded, but he was still soaked to the skin, dress shirt clinging to him.
Kinda see through…
Focus.
“Found a shirt and some shorts. I can’t promise they’ll be flattering, but they should fit you okay.” You nod, giving your head a quick rub down. “If it doesn’t, at least it’s only for the night.”
“Thank you.” You tell him, scooting off to his room after toeing off your high-heel and incredibly-average-heel.
Laid out on his bed is exactly like he said; a grey t-shirt and a pair of drawstring shorts. Objectively, it probably isn’t very flattering, but it makes your heart flutter. The clothes smell more like the wood from the dresser they were in than they did Mike, but it was far from an unpleasant scent.
After a moment, there’s a quiet knock on the door. Before the door clicks open you shove the crumpled fives in the bedside table drawer. You turn to see Mike, a small laundry basket cradled between his arm and hip.
“Hey. You want me to get your clothes thrown in the dryer?”
“Oh. Yeah, if it’s no trouble.” He nods, entering the room to gather your clothing. Hm. Sweatpants and no shirt. You appreciate that.
“I’ll just be a minute. Feel free to get comfy.”
You take his invitation eagerly, climbing under the covers. While you feel the lulls of sleep gently pull at you, you perk up as you hear the door click open again.
Mike gently shuts the door behind him, passing by you as he digs through his dresser. Looking for a shirt, maybe? Not that you’d complain if he couldn’t find one.
Part of you felt silly for ogling him so blatantly, especially since you weren’t unfamiliar with Mike’s bare chest. But ho-hum. Folks kept looking at things they loved all the time. His gaze flicks to you and suddenly you're a deer in headlights.
“What?” He asks with a lopsided smile, finally catching you in the act.
“Nothing.” You reply, still all smiles as you tuck yourself in further. The sheets present a cacophony of smells to you- faint traces of detergent, Irish Spring, a pinch of sweat and of course that same cheap, shitty cologne you knew all too well. To some, the combo would’ve been absolutely awful, but to you it was just ‘Mike’ and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. “This is just… nice.” You finally elaborate.
“Yeah?” He asks, pulling a t-shirt over his head. Next thing you knew he was scooting himself under the covers right next to you.
“Yeah.”
Mike doesn’t say anything for a long while, only staring at you with a wistful smile on his lips. For a moment, you debate leaning in just a touch more and catching his lips against yours, but before you commit he speaks up.
“Do you mind turning around?”
You quirk a brow, but still acquiesce, turning your back to him. Before you know it you’re being held against his chest.
He’s spooning you. Completely unprompted, occasionally pressing gentle, chaste kisses to the back of your neck. For the first time tonight, you get the feeling that Mike is actually calm, finally unwinding from a night where he was fueled by complete anxiety.
You can feel his soft, shallow breathing as he takes in your scent, all undermined by the faintest traces of your perfume. His thumb gently caresses against the back of your hand. You stay like that a long while, silent. Unlike the silence at Sparky’s, this feels tender. Like a small intimate moment trying to be preserved- like something could crash in and ruin it any second now.
Finally, Mike speaks up with a quiet murmur of your name. You hum, signifying you’re still awake.
“You… don’t do this a lot, do you?”
“Which part?” You ask, using your free hand to trace lazy little circles on his.
“The… The relationship part?”
He’s not entirely sure why he phrased it like a question. In the entire time he’s known you, you haven’t mentioned having any other partners.
“Not really.” You respond without much hesitation. “I used to, but then they came and went so fast that I just… stopped.” A quiet, half-hearted laugh escaped from deep in your chest. “…I almost went through that whole song and dance with you, actually. Long time ago.”
“Oh?” He asked, playing with a loose strand of your hair. “What made me different?”
You held your words for a moment. Maybe that would make you sound bad. Still, you sighed. This was a whole week of being vulnerable, why stop now?
“I felt that- maybe you needed me.” You leaned back, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck. “But- you needed me as we were. And if I… acted like myself- dove into things head first but then scared myself away from it and tore it all apart- that would be bad.”
Mike hummed, twisting the lock around his finger. “Why change your mind?”
“I think it was about a month ago. When you had that really, really bad cold? Then you didn’t call and tell me about it so I still picked up Abby and came to your place anyway?”
“I… don’t remember that, actually.” He furrowed his brow. He knew the cold you were talking about, but he didn’t remember you being there at all.
“That doesn’t surprise me. You were pretty out of it- just laid dead on the couch for most of it. Me and Abs just went about business as usual, watched a bit of tv while she did her homework- but, quieter than usual.”
You could still picture it clearly. Abby was tummy-down on the floor with a Language Arts worksheet, and you perched on the very edge of the couch, Mike’s head cradled in your lap because that was the only way you were both going to fit. He looked like absolute shit and was barely conscious, but you still sat there, gently combing your fingers through his hair.
“Then when I was in the kitchen, getting some soup together, I really sat and thought about it. Because that afternoon was… nice. Very nice. I figured that if you were actually present it would be even better. Sure my house is where I live but…” You give a quick sigh through your nose. “This place… this place has the people I love and the people I feel safest with. It’s home.”
Mike said nothing for a long while. Your words struck a chord with him he had trouble putting a solid feeling to. In a strange, twisty way, it brought him back to when he was a kid. An unambiguously soft feeling of nostalgia wrapped around him- at this point it’s the only real feeling he can connect to the domesticity you’re describing.
Then, he stopped to think about that feeling you keep describing to him. The feeling of being ‘safe’. Is that something he shares with you, he wonders?
After tonight, he concludes that yes, it is.
There was a small part of him that always wanted his family to feel more full. More complete. But there’s something about you and him right now that makes him think that maybe it’s something he actually wants with you rather than him just chasing the tail of the past forever.
You decided that his lingering silence didn’t bother you very much. It was a tricky but important learning curve with Mike that he just needed time to process feelings and find the proper words to articulate them.
So, you contently relaxed in his loose hold. You felt his heartbeat; just a touch faster than your own.
“I… I love you.” He finally says, so quietly you think you may not have heard him if his lips weren’t right next to your ear. Despite everything, saying it out loud makes him nervous. Sure you’d said it first just a few days ago but…
It makes your heart stop before it hammers away even faster. He said it. He actually said it. Your smile is big and bright, not that he can see it.
“I love you too, Mike.”