Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Goddamit, Calum," Michael grumbles at the eagerly smiling boy, the smile on his face just screaming, 'I've just done something which may possibly ruin your whole fucking life. But don't get mad okay?'

"I thought I was your friend."

"We all make mistakes," Calum soothes, causing Michael to shove him into a wall. "Okay, okay, you're my friend, but so is Luke and he needs this job. I can't just ignore-"

"You didn't have to ignore anything, you could've just pretended you didn't know about any job openings-"

"But I did and it would be wrong if I didn't tell him."

"You don't have to tell him anything! He's not your responsibility. Quit acting like you breastfed him," Michael sighs, folding his arms in annoyance. Calum rolls his eyes, smile leaving his face. Michael was his best friend. He loved him. But he was so childish at times that Calum wondered if they should get him checked.

"What are you on about?"

"You always fucking do this. Helping people and shit. Can't you do the wrong thing for once?"

Calum groans in exasperation, turning away from Michael and storming into the kitchen, pushing through the double doors. Michael follows him into the bright, busy room, irritation rolling off him in waves. He would not let Calum walk away from this, acting like Michael was the ass in this scenario.

"Look, he needs the money mate. I'd do the same for you."

"Because you like me better,"

"I don't know why." He mutters, pulling his apron over his head, and turning around so Michael can tie it. Michael does the same.

"Because I'm just cooler. I have better hair. My hair is fucking purple. It doesn't get better than that."

Calum rolls his eyes again, picking up both a plate of mashed potatoes and chicken and a dish of bolognese in the way that he'd been taught during his 'training' when he first started out.

"Who d'you think will have to train Luke?" Calum wonders as Michael grabs a bottle of wine and they both make their way out of the kitchen to table 4.

"I still can't fucking believe you fucking did this," is all Michael says, his frown turning into a small, polite, entirely fake smile as they reach the table they're serving. They weren't really supposed to take tables together but over the year they'd worked there they had kind of morphed into a double act.

"Bolognese?" Calum questions with a charming as fuck smile, eyeing the couple sitting across from each other.

"That would be me," the girl giggles -actually giggles- smiling at Calum. Michael's eyebrows raise in alarm as he sees her date grit his teeth in irritation. A fight would really not be good for them, especially since Calum was a shit fighter. He'd probably start crying. Michael did not feel like stroking his back to calm him down, especially now that he wasn't planning on ever speaking to him again.

Michael wants to assure the girl's date that this happens all the time; girls and guys alike go nuts for Calum. Michael is sure it was something about his hair or maybe the fact that he squatted on a daily basis and had quite a nice ass. However, Michael can't say any of these things so he just tries to warn Calum to drop the food and step off with his facial expressions, but Calum, oblivious as always, continues to smile at the practically melting girl as he set her boyfriends food in front of him.

Michael pours their wine faster than he's ever poured anything and drags Calum the fuck away.

"What the hell are you doing? Why do you always do this?" Michael hisses as soon as they're safely out of the earshot of anyone at the tables, leaning against the empty bar in the far corner of the restaurant.

"What?" Calum pouts, rubbing his arm where Michael had grabbed it, but smiling a little so Michael knew he wasn't totally oblivious.

"You're such a fucking home wrecker," Michael sighs.

"Please," Calum scoffs.

"No, really. They're gonna try to go home and have sex or some shit but all she's gonna be able to think about are your stupid pouty lips."

"Spend a lot of time thinking about my stupid pouty lips then?" Calum grins, proceeding to make kissy faces at his friend.

"In your dreams," Michael scoffs, shoving the giggling boy.

"Don't fight it, Mikey," he says, waggling his eyebrows.

"Fight what?" asks a voice behind them. They both turn to see their friend, Kira, a look of exhaustion on her face.

"You alright?" Michael wonders as she sighs.

"A customer touched my butt today and I had to smile while I told him not to do it again. He's lucky I'm at work and unable to fuckin' fight him."

Michael puts his arm around her.

"So what's up your ass?" Kira asks Calum.

Calum sighs, his tone one of sorrow. "Michael's denying his love for me again."

"He employed my worst enemy," Michael whines. "there is no love."

Kira scoffs. "Riiight. This coming from the boy who drank himself into a fucking coma when Calum didn't speak to him for six days?"

"Wasn't a coma. I was sleeping." Michael grumbles, taking his arm off her, cheeks heating up. "Calum overreacted anyways,"

"You fed my dogs chocolate!"

"I said I was sorry! Jesus."

"Let's not revisit it," Kira interjects, folding her arms. "Point is, you're both dramatic as fuck. What's his name?" She asks Michael.

"Hemmings." Michael grits out.

Kira just blinks at him so Calum says, with a sigh, "Luke. Luke Hemmings."

"God, you're weird," she mumbles before sitting up on a bar stool. "Okay. So. Tell me. What's so horrible about this Luke."

"He's just terrible. He's a terrible person. He kicks small children-"

"Shut up," Calum groans. "He's just the only one who refuses to let himself be intimidated by Michael," Calum tells her, smirking at at Michael's incredulous expression.

"That's a fucking lie. He's just so... cocky and just... just terrible."

"Like a thesaurus, you are," Kira observes, before shrugging. "I don't let myself be intimidated by you. Does that mean you hate me?"

"No, you do it in a cute way, so."

Kira laughs. "So you hate him because he's not cute?"

"No! Well, he's not but no!"

"Liar," Calum scoffs. "he's cute as hell. Have you seen his hair? And that lip ring?"

"Shut up!" Michael yells. "He's not." Was it too much to ask to have friends that could actually talk shit?

"Whatever. And all I did was tell him there was a job opening here. Doesn't mean he's gonna automatically get the job."

------

Luke gets the job.

The manager tells Calum this the next day, after a lot of pleading on Calum's part. Apparently, he's very "charming" and has the potential to "end up as assistant manager someday."

Calum hopes Luke never gets assistant manager, mostly because he never wants to see the look on Michael's face when Luke lets the power go to his head and gets all "come on, Clifford, pick up the fucking pace". The thought made Calum shudder.

He starts on Monday and no one thinks to tell Michael until about one minute before he's due to arrive, obviously so Michael won't cause a scene.

He does anyway.

"Son a cock sucking whore," he curses, slamming his fist against the bar counter that Calum and Kira have sat him down at to make the announcement.

"Nice," Kira mutters, rolling her eyes at Calum. "Told you we shouldn't have told him."

"Yeah," Calum mutters, biting his lip anxiously.

"How long have you known?" Michael demands.

"Since last week. Sorry." He adds as Michael slams his fist against the counter again.

"When does he start?"

"10,"

"What time is it?"

"9:59,"

"Don't," Kira cautions fiercely as Michael raises his fist again. He looks right at her as he thumps it against the counter, this time loudest of all.

"You're such an asshole. No wonder Luke hates you."

Michael pouts and is about to reply when the door swings open and six feet of pure irritation walk in.

"Be nice," Calum hisses as he stands to say hi and direct him to the managers office and shit.

"I'm always nice," is all Michael says in reply.

"Luke!" Calum practically sings, going straight for Luke and pulling him in for a hug because unlike Michael, Calum actually likes Luke, although he makes a mental note to try to tone it down when he hears Michael grumble something along the lines of "little traitor bitch" behind him.

Luke laughs and hugs Calum back and Calum releases him and says "right, follow me" and tries to usher him off to the manager as fast as he can but its too late, Luke's looking behind Calum and his smile is gone.

"Nice," Luke mutters under his breath. Calum sighs internally and turns to look at Michael who's got his face set into a totally blank expression that can only mean murderous fury.

"Yeah, Michael works here too, by the way," Calum says.

"Nice," Luke says again, a smirk on his face. Calum can visibly see Michael's jaw clench. Calum grabs Luke and steers him away before he can start laughing or something and force Michael to strangle him.

-

It's half eleven and the lunch rush is just about to start when a staff meeting is called, a brief one, in the kitchen.

Luke and Michael have managed to avoid each other so far, with a lot of help from Calum, and also Kira, who he had bribed earlier.

He basically talks about a few complaints from the customers about flirting with their significant others -all eyes turn towards Calum on this one- and then he starts to finish off.

"That's it, really. Lastly, I'm sure you've all noticed our new waiter, Luke," Jack, the manager, nods towards the boy.

"Couldn't miss him," Kira mutters, practically craning her neck to see his face. Luke laughs softly.

Michael seethes in silence.

"Well, I'm sure you'll all make him feel welcome," Michael's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. What is this, the first day of kindergarten?

Jack notices.

"A problem, Michael?"

"No. 'Course not,"

Luke stifles a laugh and Michael's fists clench because oh my God has there ever been anyone more irritating.

Calum pinches his side in a plea for him to shut the hell up but its too late, the damage is done.

"So I'm sure you wouldn't mind training Luke then?"

Michael nearly chokes. He'd rather stick pins soaked in acid into his fucking eyes than spend up to two whole weeks teaching Luke's ignorant ass how to be a waiter.

"I'd rather not," he manages. Jack's eyebrows nearly shoot right up into his hairline. Luke seems to be more than concerned. As he should be. Michael was pretty sure Luke would end up with soup thrown in his face if Michael had to spend any amount of time with him.

"And why not?"

The other employees are watching with amusement, glad for the interruption of cooking and serving.

Michael pauses for a second and weighs his options. He could argue with his boss which, well, would probably get him fired, especially as he had a habit of swearing when he was arguing or just talking in general. He could also just sit back and accept it which, well, no. There was only one other option. He swallows and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sure Luke wouldn't want to be trained by me either." He forces out.

"I'm cool with it,"

God fucking damn who the actual fuck did the cock sucker think he was.

"So it's settled then," Michael's expression changes from fury to shock in record time.

"But-"

"Back to work," Jack says and, just like that, the meeting is over.

Michael doesn't move.

Calum slaps his back and calls him a fucking idiot. What a friend.

"You should've just shut the hell up and kept your head down. The only reason he chose you was because you started being a cheeky fuck."

"Stop yelling at me!" Michael whines, looking forlorn.

Calum sighs and messes up his hair, then grabs Michael by the shoulders and looks into his eyes.

"Please don't kill Luke. I can't deal with covering up for a murderer right now. Finals start in three weeks."

---

Michael tries his best. The next day at school, he ignores Luke completely, instead of barging into him in the halls or glaring at him or accidentally-on-purpose knocking his books to the floor.

It's hard. Luke is being his usual irritating self, and it's just fucking infuriating that no matter how hard Michael has worked to break him, he still walks around with that irritatingly smug smirk on his face. He even says, "hi, Michael" at one point and Michael has to hold his breath to stop himself from cussing Luke the fuck out.

Michael likes his lunch arrangement. He sits at the table in the corner of the room furthest away from the door, with people he likes; Calum, and his friend Ashton, who he had pleaded with to come work at the restaurant with them, but had refused, the lazy fuck.

"Bitch 1. Bitch 2." Michael greets as he sits down at the table, four slices of pizza on his tray.

"How do you even get four slices? We're only allowed to take one." Ashton queries, awe in his eyes.

Michael lifts the first slice to his mouth as slowly as he can and takes a bite, letting out an exaggerated moan.

"Yeah, I'd share it with you two but one of you happened to hire Hemmings to my place of work and the other one refused to take the empty spot so he couldn't get it."

"You're such a 2 year old." Calum mutters.

"Enjoy your one pizza slice." Michael smiles sweetly at the two boys.

And then Luke pops up literally out of nowhere and pulls out the chair right next to Michael. In his tray are also four slices of pizza. He smiles and says "hey" and 2/3 boys say hey back. He then proceeds to give both Calum and Ashton a slice of pizza each. Michael wants to pull his shirt off and demand Luke fights him right then, right there.

"So which one of you are gonna let me copy your Math homework." Luke wonders, picking a slice of pepperoni off his pizza.

"Mines in my locker, s'all yours. Probably all wrong though." Ashton offers, mouth full, absolutely in love with Luke for the moment.

"Thanks mate,"

"You working today?" Calum wonders.

"Yeah, I take the same shifts as Michael. He's training me." Luke says, making it sound dirty.

Michael's fists are clenched so tight he's pretty sure he's stopped the blood flow in his hands.

"Aw, Mikey," Ashton cooes. "I didn't know."

"Don't know why you should." Michael grumbles.

"He's just shy," Calum grins.

"Shut up. Jesus." Michael groans, eating half of his slice of pizza in one bite.

Luke leans a little closer to Michael, close enough that Michael can feel his body heat and Michael fucking hates it. He hates it he hates it he hates it.

"Six O'clock tonight, yeah?" Luke confirms, practically batting his eyelashes at Michael. Ashton and Calum stifle laughs.

"I'm not your fucking schedule," Michael scoffs, getting up and leaving, cursing Luke a million times in his head as he feels his cheeks heat up. There's more laughter at the table as he practically power walks away.

He hates Luke.

----

Calum picks Michael up for work as always. Calum tries to cheer Michael up.

"I think Luke has a crush on you."

"I hope you get struck by lightning."

The rest of the drive is silent. Michael gets out as Calum parks outside the restaurant, walking into cool air, soft lightening and warm smells.

He walks into the break room to change out of his band tee shirt and into the plain black one in his locker. When he gets there, a shirtless Luke is sitting facing away from him, broad shoulders and back in full view, scrolling on his phone.

Michael freezes and is about to walk out but fuck that, he's not leaving. He worked here first. This is his locker room. In theory.

So he just slams the door shut loudly, taking joy in the fact that Luke jumps, but then he turns to face Michael and yeah he probably does sit ups or lifts weights or something because... yeah.

"Hey trainer," Luke greets him, pulling a black tee shirt over his head, just as Michael grabs his.

Michael doesn't reply. Luke starts to chuckle as Michael takes his shirt off, pulling the other one on.

Michael gives him a look and Luke explains, "we're wearing the same thing,"

"Wow, looks like we're the only two fucking people with black jeans and a tee shirt. What, are we best friends now?"

Luke rolls his eyes like Michael's a tantrum-throwing child and fuck Michael is so irritated.

"So what's first?" Luke asks, switching his phone off and leaving it in his locker. He's smiling eagerly at Michael. Michael shrugs.

"Follow me. Try not to fuck up."

"Got it."

----

"Did you two plan this?" Kira asks as soon as she sees Michael and Luke.

"Yes," Luke replies at the same time that Michael flips her off and walks into the kitchen. He gestures towards a bunch of sticky notes on a wall, with orders and table numbers written on them.

"You read these, when one of the orders are ready, you look for the most recently added sticky note with that order and bring it to that table."

Luke nods. "I can do that."

Cocky shit.

Michael raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, alright," he says, nodding towards a dish of barbecue ribs that's just been put up on the orders table. "let's see you then."

Luke just smirks and grabs the plate, balancing it expertly on his right hand, turning away from Michael and pushing the kitchen door open.

Michael tries not to notice the fact that Luke seems to do squats as well.
He does let himself be irritated by the fact that Luke is already an expert at this when it took Michael at least a month to not drop any food while serving.

Michael follows, and leans against the bar, watching Luke set the food on a table shared by two men, smiling at the person he's serving as he does so. Michael's first thought is that they might have another Calum on their hands, but then he leans down and hugs the boy so he obviously knows him. They remain in the embrace and Michael wishes to God that he could remain indifferent. Luke's friend's date seems acceptably uncomfortable and Luke seems to notice this at the same time that Michael does. He lets go, sucking his lip ring into his mouth in the way he does when he's nervous.

"Breathe, Michael," comes a voice from behind him. "he'll come back."

"Like I give a shit," Michael grumbles back at the voice, turning around and identifying it as Calum. "I'm just pissed that he's wasting time."

"Really," Calum says, eyebrows raised, obviously not buying it.

"Fuck off. You and Luke can just fuck off."

"I'm wounded," Luke says, approaching them with a grin on his face.

"Fuck. Off."

"Can't, my shift doesn't end til' nine,"

Michael folds his arms. "What the hell are you playing at? You can't just hug the customers it looks weird as shit,"

Michael is aware that there's something in his tone that sounds like jealously but is really really not.

"He's my friend. And I didn't hear about any rule concerning not hugging the customers. Calum?" Luke turns to ask the giggling boy, who shakes his head.

"Nope,"

"Well there you go," Luke nods at Michael. Michael wants to punch him right in his stupid smiling mouth.

"Whatever. Just..." Michael takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Whatever. Just go take more orders."

"Sure." He says, walking towards the kitchen.

"Calm down, Michael, you look like you're going to combust. Take a joke sometimes."

Michael has a lot to say to that but he sees a customer signalling for a waiter and she looks like the type to complain to the manager about the waiter having an attitude if Michael so much as serves her soup without a full on grin on his face. So Michael tells Calum to piss off with a friendly smile on his face before approaching her table.

----

Luke sits with them again at lunch the next day. Michael completely ignores him until Luke puts a slice of pizza on Michael's plate then launches right back into his conversation with Ashton.

Michael stares at it distrustingly before picking it up and taking a bite. Then another, then another until he's eaten the whole thing. Luke doesn't say anything, but when Michael looks at him later, he's smiling.

----

Michael has set Luke to taking orders and he's doing better than Michael would like. He kind of wanted Luke to struggle so he could report him for being a shit waiter but of course he was good at it. He was good at everything.

Anyway.

Michael liked the training thing in a way because it allowed him to just sit back. All he had to do was watch Luke and make sure he wasn't fucking up. Staring at Luke all day wasn't as horrible as Michael kind of wished it was.

He was a people person and he had everyone he served in the palm of his hand basically. They even said "please" to him when ordering. Michael was sure it had something to with his his eyes. They were really blue and innocent

The more Michael watched him the more he wanted to corrupt the innocence that practically radiated from him and Michael also needed a breath of fresh air because damn that was uncharted territory.

"Calum," he practically croaked, grabbing the boy by the arm as he walked by.

"You okay?" He wondered, raising his eyebrows at Michael's panicked expression.

"What? Yeah. I'm fine. Just... Cover for me okay? I'm gonna go sit down for a sec."

Calum decides not to mention the fact that he's gone so pale, he's practically fading away.

"Sure mate,"

"Thanks," Michael sighs with relief, making his way to the break room.

He lays on the bench next to the lockers once the door is shut behind me, running a hand through his hair. He's more than pissed off. At what, he's not sure.

He falls asleep.

---

When he wakes up its to the sight of a shirtless Luke and his first assumption is that he's dreaming and then he gets mad at himself for thinking that a shirtless Luke could ever be a part of any dream he ever has.

Luke's facing away from him and he's on the phone and he's just saying a lot of "yeah"'s and "okay"'s and he's running his hand through his hair a lot and for the first time ever Michael wants to pull his hair not out of annoyance but out of like... interest? He wants to touch it? It looks good? His wide back and shoulders look good? The dimples just above the waistband of the back of his jeans look good? Michael wants to lick them?

Michael's aware that he's practically gawping wide-eyed at Luke but he can't seem to stop its like he's in some kind of trance which is probably why he doesn't notice when Luke hangs up the phone and instead starts smirking right at Michael.

Michael finally makes it past Luke's collarbones and looks at his face instead and nearly falls off the bench he's laying on.

His cheeks heat up about a billion degrees and he gets up with as much dignity as he can manage which really isn't very much. Luke hand said a single thing. Michael wishes he fucking would so Michael could shut him the fuck down but Luke is smarter than that so he just watches and smiles.

Michael wants to wipe that smile right off his face, leaving nothing but slack satisfaction, open-mouthed bliss.

Michael pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, eyes widening as he realizes he's slept through his entire shift.

"M'going home," Michael mutters, shoving the phone in his pocket, and then curses himself because since fucking when does he announce his movements to Luke?

"Bye," Luke says which, no Michael is not responding to-

"Bye."

Fuck

He walks out into the parking lot where Calum is waiting for him in his car.

"You feeing better?" He asks, reversing out of the parking spot.

"No. Take me home."

"Want me to sleep over tonight?" Calum wonders, the distant look on Michael's face worrying him.

"Wanna be alone," Michael grumbles back.

Calum pats his shoulder and nods. Michael just got like this sometimes and he usually overcame it after eating or playing enough Xbox.

"Sure Mikey,"

---

Michael plays FIFA on his own for four hours straight, eats half a pizza, then falls asleep on his bedroom floor.

---

"Hey," Luke says the next day, sitting down with them at lunch which is apparently a thing now.

"Hey," Calum and Ashton reply at the same time that Michael mutters "I gotta...uh..." And, with that brilliant explanation, leaves the lunch table, headed for the nearest empty classroom. He's kind of having an existential crisis. He should be able to have it in peace, he thinks.

He feels three pairs of eyes on his back as he storms off, but he can't really bring himself to care really. He peeks into the window on the door of the music room, checking it's empty, then opens it, turning on the lights and shutting the door behind him.

The room is all hideous green carpet and ancient guitars and an old drum set and bunch of instruments Michael knows you play with your mouth but does not know the name of. (Trumpet? Trombone? Who cares).

He runs a hand through his hair and sits at the piano, rubbing his fingers along the keys and wondering why the fuck he's trying to play a piano when he's a guitarist. God. Everything is just so messed up.

There's a light knock on the door that's not really a "hey, can I come in" knock but a "I'm coming in but I just wanna let you know first" knock, because whoever it is just allows themselves entry.

Of course it's Luke. Of course.

Michael doesn't say anything and Luke sits next to him at the piano.

"Do you play?" Luke wonders.

Michael shakes his head.

"Pianos are disgusting."

Luke is practically grinning because for the first time answer he's gotten a decent answer out of Michael. Michael realizes this at the same time that Luke does and he wants to hit Luke for it.

Luke wriggles a little so he's sitting closer to Michael. Michael practically stops breathing. Luke positions his hands (which are a lot bigger than Michael's, Michael notices with... um, disgust) on the piano, and Michael waits for whatever kind of masterpiece the boy is about to play.

Luke starts to play Mary Had A Little Lamb.

Michael rolls his eyes and finds himself laughing because Luke is so dumb and Michael hates his dumb fucking face and his dumb long ass piano-playing fingers.

Luke finishes off the last few chords. And then turns to Michael. Michael cannot believe how blue Luke's eyes are. And then suddenly they're closer. And closer. And Luke is kissing him. He's got a fistful of his shirt and he's pulling him closer and after about three seconds Luke starts to pull away but there's no fucking way Michael's just going to let this go so soon.

Michael fists Luke's hair roughly, the way he's wanted to since he had that long ass fringe, and Luke gasps and it's such a pretty sound. Michael wants to hear it again.

Luke's tongue slides wet against Michael's and then Michael pulls away slightly, the sound of Luke's whimper enough to make him bite Luke's lip a little harder than intended. Luke moans softly, pulling Michael closer.

"Like it rough, huh?" Michael wonders, lips on the edge of Luke's jaw and for once, for fucking once, Luke doesn't have a smartass answer. He just bites his swollen lower lip, lifting his chin so his head is against the wall beside him, allowing Michael access.

The bell rings.

Luke whines in frustration, holding tighter onto Michael, trying to show him that he doesn't want to leave. He won't leave, he wants to stay right here, living in this moment. He'd set up house right here in this music room, he doesn't care.

Michael shudders, lips slowing on his neck as Luke moves the hand he has on Michael's chest, turning it so his fingers are facing downwards, sliding it down Michael's chest slowly. Michael gasps softly, stomach tightening beneath Luke's warm touch.

"L- Luke," Michael pants, his name going from practically a curse word to a moan of pleasure of Luke palms him, grinding the heel of his hand into Michael's quickly hardening length.

Michael can't help but struggle to remember why exactly he hated Luke. He really doesn't know why he did. Anyone who could practically get him off through his clothes had a special place in his heart.

Luke stills his hand on Michael and Michael will deny that he let out a small whimper to the day he dies. He moves a little higher, fingers toying with the zip on Michael's black skinnies, silently asking. Michael nods, breathless, face still turned into the crook of the younger boys' neck, panting softly.

Luke undoes the button and zip with shaky fingers, pulling the constricting denim as far down as he can, considering Michael is giving him no help whatsoever. It then hits Luke that Michael is already pretty far gone, and the thought that Luke has done this to him has Luke cursing quietly, eyes widening as he pulls the jeans all the way off and he sees Michael's cock twitch in his boxers.

Luke mutters a quiet "damn." Michael cheeks heat up and he leans closer to Luke to brush his lips against Luke's neck. Luke shuts up.

Michael gulps loudly, hot breath against Luke's neck. Luke strokes his hand down Michael's length, stopping to rub his thumb against the head. Michael whines a low "fuck", and Luke takes it as a good sign, palming him harder, squeezing gently.

There's a dark wet spot of pre-cum in Michael's boxers, growing bigger with every skilled touch. Michael wonders if he's done this before. How many confused, angry, naked arch-enemies have there been? Michael just doesn't know.

Michael knows that if Luke doesn't stop now he's going to come soon, embarrassingly soon, but at the same time he really, really doesn't want Luke to stop. Luke doesn't seem to want to stop either. He pulls the elastic of Michael's boxers, then let's it snap back into place. Michael hisses, fingers digging into Luke's thigh and hold up, since when did he have a hand on Luke's thigh?

"Want me to stop?" Luke wonders, hand moving quicker, starting to pull the older boy's boxers down, and Michael can hear the smile in his voice so he knows that Luke knows damn well that that's the last thing he wants.

Michael shakes his head, and there's a tense pause as the weight of the situation fully hits them and there's that question: "how far are we gonna go?"

There's the sound of footsteps approaching the door of the music room and they find out that the answer is "not very."

Michael whimpers softly and Luke kisses the top of his head in apology before standing up. When it looks like Michael has no intention of moving, Luke sighs and crouches down, pulling Michael's jeans up to his thighs for him. Michael is still slouching against the wall, and Luke glances warily at the door, knowing it could open any second.

"Michael you need to pull up your jeans," Luke says, standing up to his full height, a strange rush of tenderness filling him as Michael whines softly.

"Don't tell me what to do," Michael mutters before standing up and pulling his jeans up to his waist. Luke watches him, sucking his black lip ring into his mouth. Michael glances at Luke and wants to groan aloud in frustration.

Ten more minutes, that's all they needed. Michael would've probably busted his nut within about 30 seconds, although he was never admitting that aloud. He wouldn't have minded using the other 9 and a half minutes for recuperation and maybe jacking Luke off, just because Michael thought he'd look good coming into his fist.

But that wasn't going to happen, so Michael silently goes for the door, opening it and coming face to face with the music teacher who obviously has a few questions about why the two enemies are in his classroom together and also 10 minutes late to class.

"What are you two doing in here?" He demands, eyebrows raised. Michael states at the man, eyes vacant, still not completely there. Luke notices, coming hurriedly to stand beside the older boy and shrugs.

"Band practice,"

"Really? The two of you? In a band? Together?" He doesn't look convinced. He knows the two aren't really the best of friends.

Michael reminisces to when he'd smacked Luke's ass with a drum stick last year and gotten detention for "abusing the instruments and another student" because Luke had been a whiny fuck about it and squealed. Michael would like to do it again, he thinks, but not just out of anger this time.

"Yeah." Luke nods, silently urging Michael to at least look semi convincing.

Michael blinks and nods too, after Luke shoves him a little which is rude as fuck. Luke should try being suddenly denied a handjob after being literally five strokes away from coming.

"Yeah, our first song is gonna be called 'My Music Teacher Doesn't Believe In Me'." Michael's says, eyes mournful.

"Just go to class," is his reply, rolling his eyes. They take the exit gratefully.

Michael's left with a hard on and a life re-evaluation to complete.

----

"Okay what did you do to Luke?" Calum demands as he drives to work that evening.

Nothing he didn't want.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's all quiet and smiley. What did you do?"

"Why do I have to have done something?"

Calum stops at a red light and looks closely at Michael.

"You're lying."

"Am not," Michael says, eyebrows raising at Calum leans closer to him.

"Are too. Your nostrils are flaring."

"So?" Michael scoffs, shifting away from Calum so he's pressed against the window. He'd get out and walk but that would be exercise and Michael needed at least 3 mental pep talks before doing that.

"They do that when you lie. You did something to Luke." Calum shakes his head, horrified. "You're a monster."

"You got all that from my nostrils? I'm impressed," is all Michael says, starting straight ahead.

"If you broke our new waiter I swear to God-"

"Luke is not broken at all."

"I'm watching you, Clifford."

"I'm not a fucking television, Hood."

---

It's an uneventful day at work apart from when a woman that's in her late twenties tries to get Calum to come home with her and Michael has to come over and pretend to be Calum's lover to get him out of it.

Calum has a cocky smile on his face for the rest of the day.

Michael is on clean-up duty after their shift and, because he's training him, Luke is too.

They mop the restaurant in silence, Michael on the other side of the spacious room. Calum comes out of the kitchen with washing up gloves on his hands, and sighs in exhaustion.

"I'm gonna go wait in the car, Mikey," he says, pulling off the gloves. "If I stand for any longer my body is going to shut down."

Luke giggles quietly and Michael does has to hold back a smile at the sound.

"Okay. I'll be done in like 10 minutes. Stay strong."

"I'll do my best," Calum calls, already walking out. Michael stretches and props the mop he's holding against one of the tables, and gets four wet floor signs and puts each of them up.

Luke continues mopping, and Michael finds himself watching him, the muscles in his arm flexing, hips swaying slightly to the soft music coming from Michael's iPod.

Luke looks up. Michael looks away, turning around so hurriedly that he slips and nearly falls on the wet floor, having to hold onto a table to support him, cheeks burning.

When he dares to look at Luke again, he's grinning to himself. Michael's blush intensifies and he makes his way to the break room to grab his shit and leave. Michael did not get detention on numerous occasions to be the victim in this relationship.

Michael pulls his work shirt over his head as soon as he's in the room, opening his locker and shoving it in, then takes out his other shirt and pulls it on, grabbing his phone and his keys, then slamming the locker door shut. His heart is racing and his palms are sweaty and he's pretty sure he's gonna jack off when he gets home and he's totally sure he's gonna think of Luke when he does and he really really wishes he wasn't.

Just as Michael composes himself enough to leave the empty break room, the door swings open and Luke strolls in, and keeps on walking until he's stood right in front of Michael.

"I think we should talk." Is all he says.

"Yes, I do think your hair is stupid," Michael answers, folding his arms and hoping Luke can't hear his heart thudding against his chest.

"Not about my-" Luke sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "I don't get you. You hated my hair when I had a fringe and you hated it when it was flat and you hate it now, with the quiff."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to please me." Michael says, smirking. "You know, get my approval,"

"I don't need your approval,"

"Please." He scoffs, "You need everything I have to offer."

It's the only warning he gets before Michael's lips all but devour his.

Luke staggers backwards, shocked, and Michael puts his hands flat against the younger boys chest, pushing him against the lockers. Luke gasps and Michael sucks at his bottom lip, tongue sliding against his.

When Michael pulls briefly away to look at Luke, his lips are a deep shade of red, like he's been feasting on raspberries.

"You're so fucking hot," Michael whines, the sentence pouring out of him after years of holding it in. "I hate you."

"No you don't," Luke says, breathless.

Michael mouths at Luke's neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses.

"I wish I did."

Luke opens his mouth to reply, but Michael drags his teeth along the spot he's been working on, and Luke shivers. Michael can feel Luke against his thigh. He re-adjusts himself so his clothed cock is rubbing against Luke's and soon they're both panting.

Michael's been hard since that afternoon, basically, and the only thing running through his head is don't fucking come in your pants.

His lips by Luke's ear, he whispers, "'M gonna take your jeans off." He pauses when his thumbs are in the waistbands, rubbing against his hipbones. "That okay?"

Luke nods shakily. "Yeah. Yeah. God."

Michael pulls Luke's jeans down to his knees, crouching to get them all the way down to his ankles. He looks up to see Luke, cheeks flushed, head against the locker behind him, watching Michael. Michael's eyes travel a bit lower to Luke's dick straining against the thin material of his boxers.

Michael gets on his knees.

Luke makes a low sound in his throat as Michael runs his thumb over Luke's surprisingly impressive length, hips bucking as Michael leans in, hot breath hitting his dick every time he exhales.

"M-Michael," Luke stammers. Michael drags the flat of his tongue against the bulge in Michael's boxers, then sucks, mouth and tongue soaking the thin fabric.

Luke's whining and gasping and Michael can't believe that a blowjob was the key to getting Luke to shut his fuck all along.

"More," Luke pleads eventually, cheeks flushed, heart stuttering in his chest. His cock is twitching painfully, still restricted, and fuck Michael has a talented mouth.

"Yeah? Want me to suck you off?" Michael wonders, eyes looking innocently up at Luke. "Wanna come in my mouth?"

Luke can't find the words to tell him that fuck yeah he wants that, has been wanting it for so long that the fantasy is imprinted in his mind for life, probably. But now that fantasy is becoming a reality and Luke is going to come really soon if Michael keeps talking to him like that.

So Luke nods, head heavy, hand somehow making its way to take a fistful of Michael's hair. Michael moans lowly, tugging Luke's boxers down, slowly, so Luke's jaw is clenched tight in frustration.

Eventually, his boxers fall to join his jeans, and Luke sighs loudly as his dick is freed.

"I don't know how you fit this in those jeans." Michael says without thinking, wrapping a hand around Luke' base.

Luke smiles, all cocky.

Michael sucks hard at the head of Luke's cock and his smugness disappears. Luke's teeth dig into his bottom lip and he whimpers softly, already looking absolutely wrecked and fuck yes, Michael has wanted to see him like this for so fucking long.

Luke's dick tastes salty, like he's come already. Michael pulls off, looking at the younger boy with a grin on his face.

"Did you jack off today?"

Luke nods impatiently, hips moving of their own accord, seeking friction.

"Y-yeah, in the toilets, Michael-"

"Really? Think of me when you came?" Michael wants to know, grin getting wider. Luke nods, mind swimming.

"Yes, fuck, always,"

Michael sucks harder, tongue washing over the tip, stroking the rest of him, hand moving fast over his cock so there's a wet slapping sound. Luke bucks his hips, hand tightening in Michael's hair, little grunts escaping him every few seconds, fuelling Michael more, his mouth becoming more feral.

He starts bobbing his head, gagging slightly as Luke bucks his hips, eyes shut now. Michael stills for a moment, and pulls off of Luke.

"You're choking me." He states, eyebrows raised up at Luke.

"Sorry," Luke says, not seeming to even realise what he's saying. His fists clench and he squirms a little. "Michael, please,"

"Do you like it? Choking me?" Michael wants to know, hand starting to stroke him slowly. Luke whines lowly, but nods.

"Yeah? Wanna fuck my throat? Make me choke on your cock-"

"Michael, God," Luke moans, voice broken.

Michael doesn't say anything, just takes Luke's leaking cock all the way into his mouth, taking a deep breath through his nose before staring up at the blond haired boy expectantly. Luke moans again because fuck Michael is just so fucking obscene.

He tightens his hand in Michael's hair, moving his hips forward, eyes nearly rolling back into his head as he adjusts to the warm tightness of Michael's throat. He pulls back, then repeats, eyes squeezing shut as he feels the first waves of an orgasm hurtling towards him.

"Gonna come," he gasps, thrusts becoming sloppier and Michael just stays there, on his knees and fucking takes it, little gurgling sounds coming from his throat and shit-

"Oh fuck, Mikey, I'm- Fuck, look at me, look up at me."

Michael does, eyes wide and glossy, lips practically red-

And suddenly Luke stops thrusting, just holds the back of Michael's head and pulls it forward as far as it can go, groaning and pulsating and coming down his throat with uncontrollable noises of release and blinding pleasure, whimpers of Michael's name following as he gets too sensitive.

Michael pulls off of Luke with a wet sound, standing up. Luke looks at him for one second before his hand is working Michael's zipper down.

"C-Can I tell you something?" Michael forces out as Luke tugs his jeans and boxers down. He wants to keep his mouth shut, but he knows he'll hate himself if he does. His voice is hoarse, and Luke knows why, and already his dick is starting to perk up in interest.

"You just let me fuck your mouth. You can tell me whatever you want."

Michael smiles a little, a rush of tenderness filling him even though Luke is about to give him the best blowjob he has ever received, probably, which is great because Michael's harder than he thinks he's ever been.

"I never really... hated you. I just... I just- Like, you were really nice and I wasn't and I hated everyone. But you were nice to me even though I was horrible to you. I mean, I tried to take this job away from you and now you're about to suck my dick. You're really nice. I'm not." Michael gushes everything out in one breath, cheeks heating up.

"I'm not sucking your dick because I'm nice. Jesus." Luke says, giggling a little. "It's because I- I mean- I like you,"

"So what you're saying is," Michael confirms, "you're really sucking my heart?"

"Holy fuck you're embarrassing." Luke groans. Michael laughs. " But yeah. I don't think you're mean at all. Just different."

Michael touches Luke's cheek, a small smile on his face. "That's sweet. Could you blow me now?"

Luke rolls his eyes, then leans in towards Michael, dragging his tongue along the underside of his thick cock. Michael moans softly, and Luke does it again, then swirls his tongue along the head, teasing his slit with the tip. Michael whimpers, thighs tensing with the effort of holding still, eyes slipping closed.

Squeezing Michael's thigh, Luke takes him all the way into his mouth, humming softly, the vibrating sensation ripping an endless stream of profanities out of Michael's wrecked throat, free hand stroking the base.

Luke pulls off, briefly pressing a kiss to Michael's tip, before sucking him into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue around the tip.

“Oh God,” Michael moans and Luke keeps going, twisting and twirling his tongue in an effort to drive Michael completely crazy. Luke squeezes Michael's thigh and sinks down again, this time taking in all of his length. Michael groans as he hits the back of Luke's throat, bucking involuntarily. Luke lets him, swallowing around Michael's cock, and then gently pushing his hips back down, sucking harder, using his free hand to work the base, twisting his fist while his tongue and lips work on the head of Michael's cock.

Michael keens, a high sound in the back of his throat, a warning, but if anything, Luke sucks harder, and within seconds, Michael's coming with a low moan of Luke's name.

"I love you," Michael says, before Luke even has his dick out of his mouth.

Luke smiles so wide that there are crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"I love you too."

"Calum's probably ditched me." Michael muses, thoughts going to his friend who he was supposed to drive home with half an hour ago.

"I'll bring you home," Luke offers, a small smile on his face.

"If by 'home' you mean your house-"

"I do,"

"Let's go."