FicWad

Warnings: Nothing much; general lack of plot, excessive fluffiness, digestive pyrotechnics, and mild m/m slashy cuteness.

Summary: "It's the little things that make us remember, the little things that make us laugh, cry, smile... But it's the bigger, more important things that permit the slaughter of innocent slippers. Only out of love." Cheesy summary aside, the characters are the same Miguel and Lee from "On the Roof Again." Yes, this is a sequel/companion piece.

Notes: This was inspired by a random conversation between two boys that I imagined taking place. I decided to write it out as a short story, and Lee and Miguel volunteered to "act it out." This was written on Christmas Eve in 2003, as a sort of non-holiday-related "Christmas/Holiday Present" story. As with all of my shorts, I proofread this and edited it mildly. Proper editing or beta reading would be rather appreciated.



SLIPPERS

--by: lira-chan--



Miguel sat at the desk in the bedroom of the rather spacious apartment he shared with his boyfriend of two years, Lee. He sat in front of the computer on the desk, enthralled by the rhythm of the keystrokes and the glow of the monitor. It was early Friday evening, the fading of the light from the sky obvious to Miguel, who had the shades on both of the room's windows opened. But even with the light fading, it was too early for Lee to be returning home. Lee had gone to classes during the day, and after that, Lee had work at his part-time job. On Fridays and Saturdays, the video store didn't close until eleven.

The apartment always felt so empty without Lee around to fill it up. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Miguel had last seen Lee, and already he was missing his raven-haired lover. The slight young man was just so cheerful and full of energy; it was impossible not to smile when he was around. Miguel ran callused fingers through thick brown hair- a nervous habit he'd indulged in for as long as he could remember. It was just as well that Lee wasn't in the apartment; Miguel had term papers to write, and with Lee around... It would suffice to say that very little work would be getting done.

Cocoa eyes strained to see black letters on a luminescent white screen; after a few hours spent in staring at the barely-changing screen, the eyestrain became almost exquisitely painful. Miguel's eyes burned, tearing as he squinted so as to continue typing with a minimum of errors. Ugh. Perhaps he could do with a distraction after all. Perhaps he could do with some sleep. The fact that Miguel's brown eyes were shot through with bloody tracery told the tale of the amount of time he'd been spending in slumber, lately.

Then again, there were certain things Miguel would indulge in, taking... Certain things... Over sleep. Any day.

Figuring that the paper wouldn't up and commit suicide if he left it alone for a few minutes, Miguel rose slowly from the computer chair. Stretching languorously, Miguel raised two arms above his head, one hand clasping the other as he stretched them out as straight as they would go. Wondering if he could get away with a quick walk, just down the hall and perhaps up to the roof of the building, Miguel paused upon hearing a small noise coming from that very direction. Huh. Couldn't be Lee- No, shouldn't be Lee, not yet... But a guy could hope, now couldn't he. And there was still a place for optimism in the world.

"Miguuuuuuuuuuuel!" came a tormented moan, beginning softly, then rising in pitch until the faint screech at the end moved to rend one's eardrums. Yes, Miguel knew that voice. Poor Lee. In true bemused fashion, Miguel couldn't help but smile faintly at the misfortune of the other young man.

"What is it, Lee, baby?" Miguel called back, stretching a bit more before actively turning and moving to go see what was wrong. In his fuzzy blue slippers, Miguel shuffled over to the entrance to the bedroom.

"They sent me home," Lee whined petulantly, stepping into the doorway opening onto the bedroom and sagging limply against the doorframe.

Looking Lee over, Miguel noticed that the boy did seem to be a bit green around the edges, the expression "green around the gills" immediately coming to mind. But that only conjured forth images of tadpole-Lees, and if Lee saw Miguel sniggering over the images his strange mind dreamt up, Lee would think Miguel was laughing at his misfortune. Miguel controlled himself.

"What happened?" Miguel asked, trying to sound receptive and understanding as he moved away from the doorway, admitting Lee into the room.

"They said they didn't want me infecting the customers!" Lee declared. He sounded positively scandalized. Lee? Infect customers? Never in a million years! "They said I should go home and rest so I can come in to work for my next shift. They wouldn't want me to come down with anything serious. I didn't even get to finish that shift! Can you believe it?"

Miguel shook his head mutely, silently expressing his disbelief. By then, Miguel had managed to seat himself on the bed, watching quietly as Lee gave his little rant, pacing back and forth in front of Miguel and gesturing wildly to accentuate his points, before remembering that he was deathly ill. Exasperated with it all, Lee threw himself onto the bed beside Miguel in one practiced, boneless motion.

"I'm healthy, right Miguel?" Lee asked imploringly, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Of course, love," Miguel decided, leaning in close as he spoke, and touching his forehead to Lee's.

"Thank you." Lee sniffed. Maybe he was coming down with a cold, too. Too bad his boss would be right about declaring Lee a poor, sick man. Following the two words came two arms, thrown about Miguel's neck with careless abandon, preventing Miguel from drawing back.

"Don't get me sick, love," Miguel cautioned, even as he wrapped his own arms around Lee's waist, pulling Lee closer. Lee responded by plopping his chin on Miguel's shoulder, head tilted just slightly, so that he breathed into Miguel's hair, warm breath wafting over the sensitive skin of Miguel's neck.

"If I'm healthy, then how can I get you sick?" Lee asked, ever so logically, voice low.

"That's a good question."

"Is it now," Lee breathed. He leaned back within Miguel's embrace, dark, dark eyes staring up into a pair of a paler shade of brown. A pair less captivating, more ordinary. "Why don't you just forget the question?"

"Hnn..." was the small sound escaping Miguel's lips, lost as he was within those exotically dark eyes.

Lee smiled a small smile at that, the warmth spreading to his eyes as he beamed happily up at Miguel. Sick? Not by design, but forced sick leave did have its perks... Lee leaned closer again, snuggling up against Miguel and wrapping arms more tightly about Miguel's neck. And pressing soft, pale lips to those belonging to Miguel, eyelids feathered with long black lashes fluttering closed over wide dark brown eyes.

Miguel's lips first moved against Lee's, forming silent words that were lost within Lee's mouth, then Miguel began to respond, mouth pressed more purposefully, more possessively, against his lover's. One arm clutched more tightly around Lee, even as Lee was pulling himself closer, the other arm naturally slipping from Lee's waist, slipping lower. Tongues touched gently as the kiss continued, before Lee's lips parted slightly, Miguel's tongue slipping inside with the same gentle ease. Hands massaging slow circles on Lee's back, tongue battling lazily with that owned by Lee, Miguel's eyes slid from half-lidded to closed, and he'd reached his nirvana.

Finally, Miguel began to pull away, roaming hands sliding back up the delicately outlined spinal cord, tongue retreating from the warmth offered within Lee's mouth to the familiarity of Miguel's own, but not before sucking one last time at Lee's lower lip. Accepting the end to the kiss, Lee loosened his arms about Miguel's neck, hugging the other man blissfully before removing skinny arms altogether. Right hand trailing down Miguel's arm as it was withdrawn; Lee caught Miguel's hand in his own, drawing Miguel up off the bed before they could part completely.

"I love you," Lee managed to whisper in the vicinity of Miguel's ear before they were too far parted for the whisper to carry. "Real... ly..."

Lee choked on the first syllable of the word, hand clutching tightly around Miguel's in a strange sort of convulsion. Unbalanced, Lee tipped against Miguel, stumbling into the other man's chest. Breathing shallowly, Lee tried to regain his balance; he might have been in the mood for romanticism, but he was sick. Lee stumbled two steps away from Miguel, and then tottered forward one more, back towards Miguel. A hand was placed on Miguel's shoulder, Lee leaning heavily upon his lover. It seemed for a second that Lee would regain what balance he'd lost, and his strange little display would be over... Then Lee's head went down, hand gripping Miguel's shoulder in a deathgrip, as the contents of Lee's stomach were noisily emptied out onto Miguel's fuzzy blue slippers.

Wordlessly, Lee tottered away from Miguel again, releasing his hold on the other man's shoulder as he went. Passing, Lee wiped his mouth, tasting the sour of bile and nausea. Blindly, he stumbled into the bathroom that opened off of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him without a thought. As Lee made his drunken way away, Miguel moved not a muscle, staring down at the stringy liquid coating his slippers with appalled fascination, up at Lee, then back at his poor, desecrated slippers.

With Lee safely shut up in the bathroom, washing his mouth out, no doubt, Miguel had no means with which to clean the throw-up from his poor slippers. And his poor feet. And his poor legs. A few minutes more, and Lee was emerging from the bathroom. He no longer stumbled drunkenly, but shuffled wearily instead, closing the gap between the door and the bed with grim determination. Pants and shoes were lost with none of Lee's usual exhibitionist flair, and Lee was soon burrowing under the covers, shying away from the world. If Miguel hadn't felt so sorry for his poor, sick boyfriend, he would have laughed. Then again... He would probably be sick as well. Such was life.

The bathroom freed up, Miguel stepped out of his ruined slippers, the disgust on his face completely unveiled. Lifting the twin fuzzy messes with obvious horror, Miguel strode over to the bathroom door, flicking out the light in the bedroom, and closing the bathroom door behind him. Lee didn't need to be bothered, and Miguel would be joining him shortly. The slippers were beyond saving, but Miguel could at least remove the regurgitated food from his legs, and make himself clean enough to slip into bed with Lee.

The things a man endured for love. If anyone else had tossed their lunch on Miguel's legs... Oooh, they would be walking with a limp for a week. Miguel was disgusted. Very disgusted. But he couldn't help thinking... This is how you know someone loves you. Because sex is one thing, but that was my /FAVORITE PAIR OF SLIPPERS, and only for love would I allow my slippers to be slaughtered in such an undignified manner /.