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Mike looks to Michael for reassurance before dialing Jeremiah's number. He's not sure why he's so nervous about this, Jeremiah is a good friend. He'll understand.
That's what Mike tries to remind himself as the phone rings, though he finds himself almost hoping for no answer. He'd been putting this call off for a while, not sure how to word the things he wanted to say. It had been Michael who finally pushed him to just go for it, probably tired of Mike's agonizing over something so trivial.
"Hello?" A deep voice answered the phone, and some of Mike's nerves settled at the sound. It was good to hear his voice.
"Hey, it's Mike."
A soft laugh from the other line. "Mike? It's been a little while man, what's up?"
"I know, I'm sorry. I've just had, uh, a lot going on."
Mike eyed the source of his troubles, who happened to be perched up on the kitchen counter. Michael shrugged, completely unashamed of the way he'd flipped Mike's world on it's head in just a few short weeks.
"Mhm, I know. That mystery girl you keep telling me about, huh? How'd that date of yours go?"
Mike winces at Michael's slightly hurt look. He hadn't meant to lie to Jeremiah, he'd just never corrected his assumption. But he was going to. Any second now.
"Hello?" Jeremiah speaks again after a pause, and Mike realizes he's yet to answer.
"Actually, I'd like you to meet, uh- him."
Michael gives Mike an enthusiastic thumbs up from across the kitchen, but it does nothing to calm Mike's nerves. He wasn't sure why he was so scared. True, he hadn't ever mentioned to Jeremiah that he swung that way, but it had never really been relevant until now. But Jeremiah was a good guy. Rationally, Mike knew his friend wouldn't be upset over this. He was more likely to be upset over the fact it was Michael than the fact he was dating a dude. But his emotions still got the better of him, and the few seconds it took for Jeremiah to respond felt long and agonizing.
"Ah. Mystery man, then." Jeremiah didn't miss a beat, continuing on like it didn't make a difference. "I'd be down to grab a drink if it's on you."
And just like that, the knots in Mike's stomach untwisted and he felt good again. Relieved. He chuckled along with Jeremiah, feeling silly for ever doubting him.
"First round on me, sure," he chuckled, "but you drink twice as much as I do, not sure my wallet can keep up."
"What, your boyfriend can't pay?" Jeremiah takes the jab in stride, teasing back.
Mike's face goes hot at that word. What he had with Michael was still… fragile. They hadn't really given things a label yet, but he didn't feel the urge to correct him, either. Michael definitely took note of that, from the smugly satisfied look on his face.
"Pfft. You can ask him yourself."
They set a date and chatted for a couple more minutes before saying goodbye. Mike ends the call feeling a hell of a lot better, that at the very least, Jeremiah isn't going to ostracize him for seeing another man.
It was the fact that man happened to be Michael Afton that still worried him, and Michael was quick to point that out.
"I really wish you'd have told him, Mike. I don't want a repeat of our last encounter. My jaw was sore for a week."
Mike groaned, wrapping his arms around Michael's waist and burying his face into the man's stomach. He smelled his own scent on him, radiating from the stolen hoodie the taller man had donned. Their height difference was made even more starkly apparent with Michael still perched on the counter, which Mike noted as Michael closed in on him like a vice.
His thighs squeezed Mike's chest tightly, arms snaking around his shoulders. One hand made it's way to his back and the other tangled itself in his hair. Mike melted into the embrace, nearly moaning as nimble fingers began to pet through his curls. Michael had no right to be so damn comforting.
"M'sorry," he murmured, barely audible with his face still buried in the hoodie.
Michael hummed noncommittally, content to just hold him for the time being. Mike was fine with that.
Eventually, when his head stopped buzzing and words came back to him, he broke away just enough to peer up at Michael.
"He's not going to hurt you. He's a good guy."
"So you've said." Michael didn't look fully convinced, so Mike corrected himself.
"I won't let him hurt you." He punctuated his words by pressing a kiss to Michael's palm, holding his gaze intently. "Better?"
Michael nods, returning the favor with a kiss to the top of Mike's head.
"But for the record, I'm not buying his drinks."
Mike and Michael arrive at the bar half an hour early, at Mike's insistence. He still wasn't completely sure how Jeremiah would react, and wanted to be between him and Michael in case things went awry. They sat tucked away in a booth in the far corner, an appetizer going cold in the middle of the table. Mike was too nervous to eat.
Every time the door opened, Mike's head swung to look and see who it was. Michael noticed, taking his hand under the table and giving it a squeeze.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Just… be on your best behavior."
"When am I not?" Michael gave a mock-affronted look that had Mike rolling his eyes. Still, he didn't let go of his hand, the touch comforting.
Finally, finally, a familiar figure slipped through the front door. Mike rose to his feet in an instant, almost trying to hide Michael, who stayed seated in the corner. Jeremiah caught his eye at the movement and strode over with a grin.
"Mike! So who's the lucky-" Jeremiah's face fell in an instant as he caught a glimpse of Michael, shyly waving from the booth.
"I just… need you to keep an open mind," Mike stuttered out, looking up at his friend with a guilty expression. Fuck, he should have warned him over the phone. But he wasn't sure Jeremiah would show up if he invited him to dinner with his former attempted murderer. It was different in person, when Michael was acting like a real human being and not a caricature of a cartoon villain.
"Mike…" Jeremiah put a protective hand on his shoulder, his expression saying more than words could. He looked disappointed, almost, and that was more devastating than anger.
Michael cleared his throat in the silence that followed, standing up and brushing past Mike to hold a hand out to Jeremiah. "I think we started off on the wrong foot," he said, smiling in that unsettling way of his. "I'm Michael."
Jeremiah just stared for a moment, looking between the two men like this was some kind of joke. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the "gotcha!" moment. It never came. They were dead serious.
"Vanessa's brother, right?" He finally caught himself, eclipsing Michael's hand with a firm handshake.
The tension eased noticeably after that, Mike letting out a breath before suggesting they go back to the table. Jeremiah sat across from them and immediately ordered himself two beers. Mike didn't blame him, he'd probably need it.
They sat in silence for a beat, Mike and Michael's hands finding each other under the table once more. Mike wasn't sure who initiated this time, but he didn't care. It felt good, to be with the only two men he really cared about.
"You're not gonna, like… lecture me?" Mike fidgets awkwardly, taking a sip of his drink in an attempt to look casual. "Crazy eyes, and all that?"
"Mike," Jeremiah sighed, "I'm starting to think crazy is just your type. Ain't nothing I can do about that."
Michael made a face at being called crazy, but fortunately the waitress came back with Jeremiah's beer before he could rebuke it.
"How'd you two end up, uh, you know." Jeremiah gestures to the two of them between thick gulps of his beer. "Do I want to know?"
Mike laughs nervously, exchanging a knowing look with Michael. It's true their relationship started off… rocky, to say the least, but they'd made amends. Somehow. Mike still wasn't really sure himself how this happened. Michael had just swooped into his life, tried to end it, and instead somehow made it better in every possible way. How to explain that to Jeremiah?
It was Michael who answered after a pause. "We just work."
Jeremiah considers this for a moment, turning his attention over to Michael. "So… you're serious about him, then?"
Mike wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere. It felt like some kind of humiliation ritual, like bringing a guy home to meet your parents and watching your dad interrogate him. He half expected the next words out of Jeremiah's mouth to be "What are your intentions with my daughter?"
Michael, on the other hand, only sat up straighter. "Yes."
They held each other's gaze for a moment, Jeremiah taking the opportunity to finish the last of his drink. Mike wasn't far behind him, his own glass dwindling.
"Look," Michael finally continues, "I know your first impression of me was, lets say, sub-par."
"That's putting it mildly," Jeremiah muttered under his breath.
Michael ignored him. "I know it's not an excuse, but I really wasn't in a good head space at the time. I'm sorry, for whatever that's worth."
Jeremiah finally relented, a deep sigh escaping him. "Don't worry about it, man. I trust Mike. If he's giving you a second chance, I can too." He holds up his full glass as a truce, and Michael brings his own to meet it with a clink before taking a sip.
The conversation flows more naturally after that, and so does the beer. Jeremiah continues to probe Michael with questions, but it feels less hostile. More of a morbid curiosity. What does he do for work? What was it like growing up at Freddy's?
Mike finds himself loosening up as the night goes on, and only partly due to the alcohol. Jeremiah just had a way about him, a way of putting people at ease that Mike sometimes envied. Even Michael looked to be enjoying himself, despite being far behind Mike and Jeremiah in terms of drinking.
He's pulled from his thoughts as Jeremiah lets out a bellowing laugh at something Michael said. Mike didn't catch what it was, but smiled anyways. It was good to see them getting along.
Jeremiah's words are a little slurred, the half a dozen or so beers finally getting to him. "Look, man, you're actually okay. I'm glad Mike has someone. He's been lonely."
Mike protests, much to Michael's amusement. "Don't gotta go telling my business," he mutters, face flushing slightly as the attention turns back his direction.
"Oh, but there's so much I'm not telling." Jeremiah grins in a way that certifiably means trouble for Mike.
"Feel free to share," Michael leans forwards in interest, "the only embarrassing stories I have are from Abby." His grin radiates a mischievous glee that more than matches Jeremiah's.
"Nope, nope, nope," Mike desperately wants to shut this line of conversation down, but it's too late. Jeremiah's eyes flash and Mike knows what he's going to say before he even brings it up.
"Has Mike ever told you his thoughts on cannibalism?"
That piques Michael's interest. He turns to Mike, brows raised in mock horror. "No, he hasn't. Should I be worried?"
Mike takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he's about to have. He should have never fucking told this shit to Jeremiah, but it's too late now, he'd look weirder if he refused to explain himself, or worse, let Jeremiah (poorly) explain it for him.
"Basically, okay- every time I talk about this I just dig the hole deeper and deeper."
"Not digging into graves, I hope," Michael quips.
Mike shakes his head vigorously. "What? No." He gestures wildly with his hands, trying to talk over Jeremiah's loud laughter. He's barely keeping it together after Michael's comment.
"I'm just saying, if somebody offered it to me-"
Michael interrupts again. "Who's offering you their flesh, Mike? Just so you know, I'd consider that cheating."
He doesn't even process the absurdity of that statement, stammering to get his words out through the fog of intoxication and humiliation. "Like, in a 'somebody donated their body to science' way. If science decided someone needed try human, and I'M the person who gets to try it… you know?" Mike ends with a weak shrug, feeling his face burn in shame. That was a weird thing to say, wasn't it. He was so fucking weird.
"See? You're perfect for each other!" Jeremiah finally wheezes out a reply, slapping a hand on the table. A murderer and a cannibal. Match made in heaven.
"Yes, we are." Michael agrees despite Mike's obvious mortification. He thinks it over for a moment, then nods to the shorter man. "You can try mine when I die. I'll put it in my will."
"Really?" Mike asks, hopefully not sounding too eager.
"Why not? I won't need it. I'll be dead."
"I don't think I'd want to eat you, though."
Michael huffs indignantly at Mike's thinly-veiled disgust. "What? Am I not good enough for you, Mike?"
"No! I'm not- It's different."
"How?"
"It's like," Mike's brow furrows for a moment, thinking hard. "It's like how you can't name your livestock. Or suddenly it's not a cow anymore, that's Bessie! And you can't eat Bessie."
"So I'm a cow?"
"No!"
At this point, Jeremiah is laughing so hard he can barely get a breath in, much less speak. He keeps trying, though, a valiant effort that makes Mike crack a smile despite himself.
"Ha ha, okay, I'm thoroughly humiliated. Can we move on now?"
"I don't know, Mike. Is there anything else I should know about?" Michael prods him with an elbow lightheartedly, ignoring the death glare it earned him.
Jeremiah finally catches his breath, grinning wickedly before going in for the kill.
"Mike ever tell you how he got banned from the mall?"