Brothers by Bond (11 page)

"What's the deal, bro?" Johnny said as he grabbed the beer from the fridge. "You've never kicked me out before."

Mike didn't look up as Johnny sat at the table across from him. Mike remained silent as Johnny took the shot from in front him and drank it down before pouring another. The silence drowned on and Mike finally took the shot that his brother had poured. No sooner had the tumbler rested upon the table the Johnny refill it with a shot.

"No, I haven't," Mike finally said. "Why would you think I would now?"

"Bro, you've been acting strange for months now." Johnny replied and Mike was too relaxed by the alcohol to tense for change. "You won't tell me what is up and blow me off when I ask."

Mike finished his beer and grabbed another from the fridge before he sat down and eyed the shot in front him.

"I'm worried about you, bro." The concern in Johnny's voice was almost more than Mike could handle so he reached for the shot and slammed it back. "You shut me out. I don't know how to deal with that. We've always shared everything."

Not everything
. Mike took a swig of his beer.

"There is nothing to share," Mike replied and ignored his brothers intense stare. "I haven't shut you out."
No. Not at all. Only to the point where I struggle not to become hard in your presence.

"I'm throwing the bullshit flagged down again, Mikey." Johnny replied. "I thought with enough time, you would tell me what the fuck the problem is."

Mike avoided the comment by pouring himself another shot. He knew it was a bad idea but the booze was the only way he could mute his desire toward his brother and tried to navigate the minefield that Johnny was forcing him to walk.

"There is no bullshit flagged to throw," Mike lied and hoped he was believable.

Johnny didn't buy it. "Something is wrong, Mikey. All I want to do is help."

Oh, you wouldn't say that if you knew.

Mike took another drink from his beer and finished the shot in front him. The booze continued to numb him and it was a welcome feeling. Numbness was preferred over the constant fight to resist his urge to touch Johnny in ways that no best friend or brother would. As the burning of the booze started to fade Mike thought, there is no help.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Johnny asked and Mike realized he had spoken aloud.

"It means nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing means nothing," Mike thought he replied and decided that he shouldn't say or even think anything else or he might just bare his soul and lose the only person that mattered to him.

***

Warmth. It was the first thing registered in Mike's mind. He was warm. Warmer than he should be. As consciousness crept slowly back to him, his pounding had decided to make an appearance. Without even opening his eyes, Mike knew that the throbbing pain in his brain was a hangover. Self-preservation made him remain still as he slowly came back to himself. Hangovers were nothing new but normally he wasn't so hot after a good drunk.

Mike started to move his leg, to kick the blanket away, and that was when he realized he wasn't alone. His eyes flew open only to be rewarded with light piercing into his brain.
Fuck that hurt
.

As Mike willed the pain to go away, he realized he was in the bed and not sleeping on his couch. He tried to recall the night before but all he could remember was that Johnny had lied to him and he had started drinking. Mike did not remember going anywhere and was pretty sure Johnny wouldn't have let him drive in that state. So, that had to mean he was in his own bed. Damn his head was pounding and he struggled to make sense of how he got into the bed and even more so, of how a warm body came to be currently sweating him out. There was only one person that could be in the bed with him.

Fuck! Maybe this is all a dream and once I wake up I'll be down on the couch.

Mike cracked his eyes open and waited for the light to ice pick his brain again. The wait wasn't long and the pain wasn't nearly as bad. Mike focused his bleary eyes his and the first thing he saw was a tone arm thrown over his waist. How had he not noticed that before? Like he was in a dream, his eyes followed the arm to the body it belonged to and a groan escaped through his barely parted lips.

There was no mistaking the top of the head he saw. Johnny's blond hair was getting long and overdue for a cut. His best friend was snuggled down into the blankets where Mike's chest was and all Mike could see was his hair.
Oh shit!

Mike began to panic even as his cock started to harden. Johnny was lying on his side and pressed against the length of Mike's body. Now that Mike was wide awake, he realized it was the heat of Johnny's bare skin touching his own that was making him hot.

Mike thought of all of the times he had thought about having his best friend in bed with him but now all he wanted to do was get away now that it had happened.

Oh shit, did anything actually happen?
Mike's panic hit a new high and he groaned again as his breathing increased.

"Bro, the puke bucket is on the floor," Johnny sleepy voice sounded loud to Mike ears. "Don't puke on me."

Johnny grumbled but didn't move his arm from Mike's waist and Mike was afraid to move because there was no way his best friend wouldn't feel his erection. Mike groaned again as his panic made him nauseous. Mike closed his eyes and prayed not to puke.

"Fuck bro," Johnny's head popped out from under the covers and Mike felt his rough hand trail across his mid-drift to rest on a hip. Even through the waves of nausea that told Mike he was definitely going to get sick, his cock throbbed under the touch.

"Roll," Johnny commanded and pushed on his hip to get him moving.

Mike didn't resist and just rolled onto his side until his head hung over the bucket. Moving his body was all it took and whatever booze was left in his stomach took up residence in the bucket. When Mike had nothing but dry heaves left, he realized his best friend had moved behind him. Johnny was rubbing between his shoulder blades and telling him to breath. For several moments, that was all Mike
could
do.

"Alright bro," Johnny's voice felt very close to Mike's back and Mike realized Johnny was pressed against him again.

He's killing me and doesn't even know it.

"Roll back over and crash," Johnny pulled on his hip and Mike moved as his brother suggested.

Chapter 9

Mike must have crashed back out because he awoke with a start. The bed was empty and he lay listening for several minutes but heard no signs of life. At least not upstairs.

Mike's bladder forced him up even as he was wondering if Johnny being in his bed, not only lying against him but hard to boot, was a dream. By the time he was finished in the bathroom, he had practically talked himself into the fact that it was. Mike walked back into the bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks.

The puke bucket was gone and a l
ime green Post-it was on the lamp.
Shit
. He saw the bottle of water and Advil on his nightstand as he approached the Post-it like it was a deadly viper.

'Take these ↓↓↓. We will talk later. J.'

What the hell did that mean? Mike's head was still pounding w
ith a dull ache of his hangover and he didn't know if the Post-it was a good or bad thing. The pills were swallowed and that was when he realized that something had died in his mouth. Back to the bathroom. Two rounds of brushing his teeth and using mouthwash seem to exhume the corpse.

Mike really didn't want to face Johnny, let alone talk about the night before. He knew his best friend was like a pit-bull with a bone when he wanted answers. Mike stepped into the shower and tried to remember more of the night before. Nothing but blanks after sitting at the kitchen table and dodging Johnny's questions.

Oh shit
. What if he had said something he shouldn't have? There was a reason that he hadn't gotten drunk with Johnny since his divorce. Mike groaned the sound echoing in the shower and it reminded him of lying in bed with Johnny.

Dread and confusion coursed through him when he thought about Johnny. For once, his dick didn't even twitch. Since when did he become such a pussy chicken shit? Oh yeah, since he started fantasizing about his best friend and feared losing him.

Mike stepped from the shower, dried off, and got dressed as his mind continued to spin. Johnny had lied about his recovery because he wasn't ready to go back to his place and Mike had no idea why. But that wasn't the biggest of Mike's concerns. He had no idea what, if anything, he said to his brother while he was drunk.

Regardless of whether he confessed his true feelings or not, Mike needed time away from his best friend so he could figure out how
to deal with his fucked up feelings.

Mike headed downstairs and didn't hear Johnny at all. The smell of coffee lured him toward his kitchen where he found another lime green Post-it on the coffee maker.

'Drink me. ↓↓↓.'

Mike was starting to feel like Alic
e down the damn rabbit hole. In more than one way, too. Johnny was gone which could only mean one thing. He must have said something. However, no matter how hard he tried to remember the night before, he couldn't. Advil and coffee. Parting gifts before the real 'fuck off' came.

Mike was on his third cup of coffee when he heard his front door open and close. Every muscle in his body tensed as he watched the kitchen archway. Johnny appeared and leaned against the arch, arms folded across his chest and his 'cop look' on his face.

So not good,
Mike thought as he returned the icy sky blue stare. He wasn't going to be the one to break the silence and at some point decided he wasn't going to apologize for his feelings either. Along with that decision, he accepted the loss of his best friend and brother, even though it broke his heart.

"So, what the fuck was last night all about, bro?" Johnny's voice was even, not joking or sounding pissed, and Mike couldn't read into what that meant.

"I don't want to talk about it," Mike replied just as evenly and forced his white knuckled fingers to loosen the grasp on his coffee mug.

"You don't want to talk about it?" Johnny echoed.

"No."

"Well, too fucking bad," Johnny told him and Mike just continued to meet his best friend's hard glare.

"I have nothing to say." He wouldn't say goodbye.

"Nothing to say?" Johnny echoed him again and if the conversation hadn't been so serious, Mike would've busted his best friend's balls for acting like a parrot.

"Just go home, Johnny." Mike finally looked away into his half empty coffee cup.

"What?!?" Johnny practically yelled at him.

"Go. Home." Mike looked back at Johnny and surprised himself by not flinching under the anger he saw on his brother face.

"Fine!" Johnny pushed himself off the archway and dug into the front pocket of his jeans. Mike watched as Johnny pulled poker chips from his pocket and threw them onto the table before turning on his heel to leave.

Seconds later, Mike heard his front door slam and it felt like the last nail being driven into the coffin that was now his heart. He looked down at the table and saw the multicolored poker chips staring back at him as if the gay pride rainbow were mocking him. Johnny knew. There was no helping the tears that began to fall. His greatest fear had just manifested itself, and he felt numb. Mike was so careful these last six months and he had no one to blame for his fuck up the night before but himself. How could he have been so stupid to risk so much?

A noise from the front of his house pulled him out of his heartache party and he stood up from the table. Mike scrubbed his face with his hands and started toward the living room.
Johnny must have forgotten something or else his back to kick my ass.
Mike made it as far as the kitchen archway before he encountered Johnny.

Fuck, he's pissed.