Chapter Text
“Well, Mike, guess it’s just you and me,” Josh calls as he walks into the Washington family home theater, cell phone wiggling back and forth in one hand while a bowl of popcorn is firmly grasped in the other.
“Huh?” Mike sits on one side of a couch in the front row, eyebrows knotted in confusion.
“Chris bailed. That sly dog is burying his bone in Ashley’s yard,” Josh shoots Mike a smug grin and a playful wink, “if you get my meaning.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think I get it.” Mike rolls his eyes, puts his hands up in defense, and shakes his head. “Thanks, buddy, but I really don’t want to know what Chris does with his 'bone'.”
Despite his disgusted reaction, Josh knows Mike doesn’t believe a word he's saying. Everyone and their mom knows that Chris is too chicken-shit to try anything with the adorable bookworm that he’s been crushing on since, well, forever.
Ash could practically throw herself on him and Chris would probably think she tripped.
The boy doesn't have any confidence. Josh doesn't get it.
“What about Matt?” Mike asks next as he takes the bowl from Josh and throws a few pieces into his mouth before placing it in the middle of the center cushion.
“Emily and Jess dragged him shopping! Just Imagine tomorrow's headline. 'Local football star crushed under 50 pounds of designer handbags and high heels.'” Josh makes a sweeping motion in front of his face with each word, laughing at the image of Matt carrying a mountain of shopping bags while Em and Jess check out boys and spray perfume. “I don’t know, man, if you ask me, I think Matt and Em got something going on. She’s not going to wait on you forever, bro.”
“Good. I don't want her to.” Mike says simply, but Josh can hear the underlining sourness crystal clear. That break-up is still a fresh wound, and even Josh isn't stupid enough to poke the bear, so he drops it.
“You know, since those dicks aren't coming, you can go home. I mean, if you want." Josh tries his hardest to sound reassuring, "I'm fine."
There is a long silence - so long that Josh starts to think Mike didn’t actually hear him - but when he glances over at the other teen, he’s staring at his feet like he’s seriously thinking about booking it out the door and never coming back.
Josh doesn’t blame him; this whole thing was all Chris’s idea after all. The lovable nerd decided that the four boys should spend every Saturday night at Josh’s house watching movies and playing video games as some kind of Bro-bonding exercise.
Josh, however, knew the real reason behind the sudden addition to his schedule.
Saturdays were when the Washington kids used to do their sibling time, and since the search for the Twins had been called off a few months back, Chris wanted to keep Josh’s mind off of the emptiness their absence left him with.
It hadn’t worked yet.
Josh would always find himself losing interest somewhere in the middle and start thinking about how Beth used to always insist to be on his team, or how Hannah would normally fall asleep before the movie ended – her head resting on his shoulder and her fingers gripping his arm. At one time, it had annoyed him, but now he would give up all the feeling in his body to have her use him as a pillow again.
No matter how hard he bartered with anyone who would listen, nothing ever changed.
Hannah and Beth were gone, and Josh was alone.
With it already deep into October, it wasn’t realistic to keep the same plans with the boys every Saturday, no matter how much Josh wanted it. Matt often skipped for football practice and games, and Chris sometimes broke the plans if Ashley needed help with test-prep and presentations.
Even Josh cancels to go to local movie premieres with Sam from time to time.
Mike’s the only one who’s never misses a single meeting of the unofficial Bro’s Party Night. If Josh is there, Mike is there.
The older teen figures that Mike still feels guilty for what happened to Hannah and Beth. He even broke up with Emily shortly after the empty casket funeral they had last month - a fact that Josh took way too much pleasure in.
Josh doesn't really blame Mike for what happened to his sister, no matter how much his gut tells him he should, but he's still kind of glad that Mike know he fucked up – no matter how bad that sounds.
“And miss whatever artsy-fartsy movie you have planned for this week?” Mike grins despite the lack of enthusiasm in his voice and drops the back of his head against the couch as he stretches out a bit. Sarcasm is thick as he continues his thought, mumbling something like, “I would never. How could I?”
“Look, that’s what you get when your date for the evening is a filmmaker. Deal with it or get yourself a girlfriend,” Josh jokes as he makes his way over to the film case.
He’s honestly pretty pleased that Mike is choosing to stay, no matter his reasons. It would suck to be alone tonight, and Mike is tolerable, which is more than Josh can say for most people.
“Okay. You don’t want a documentary? How about horror, then?” Josh suggests over his shoulder as he examines the content of the huge cabinet. “We never watch any good gore-fests. What about something classic? The Exorcist? Psycho? The Omen?”
Mike doesn’t respond to any of his suggestions, so Josh keeps throwing out more.
“Something like The Hills Have Eyes?”
"Ginger Snaps?"
"The Ring?"
"A Nightmare on Elm Street?"
"Friday the 13th?"
"Saw?"
All suggestions are met with crickets.
"Use your words, Michael," Josh scolds, turning to give the other boy a stern look. "I can't read minds, man. Not a Psychic."
Mike looks oddly uncomfortable despite his laid-back pose, his foot sloshing up and down like he's tapping his foot to a really pumped up house beat. Josh has seen this type of behavior before when he refuses to look up from his knees during therapy. Dr. Hill says it's his anxiety, and that he needs to face whatever he's afraid of instead of hiding behind it - 'look the beast dead in the eyes, Joshua.'
Mike isn't Josh's patient though, and Josh sure as hell isn't qualified to be a therapist, so if he wants to leave so bad - the door is right there. Josh isn't going to tie him up in the medical system and refuse to let him leave under the banner of "danger to himself and others."
Torturing Mike Munroe is not what Josh would call a good Saturday night.
"Anything's fine." Mike finally replies with forced enthusiasm, his hand snaking into the popcorn bucket to grab a handful and shovel it into his mouth.
Josh narrows his eyes, and thinks about asking what his deal is, but Josh never likes people in his business and imagines that Mike wouldn't like it either. So, instead, he shrugs and grabs a personal favorite before walking over to the projector and popping in the disk.
“Trick r’ Treat it is.”
The film flashes across the large screen at the front of the room, and Josh takes his place on the other side of the couch.
Throughout the opening, Josh keeps glancing over at Mike. He still looks super uncomfortable, but his foot has stopped jackrabbiting. His arms are crossed tightly against his chest and he keeps looking away anytime the music changes, but Josh assumes it's just because they're alone.
There is no denying that this is a little awkward.
The movie plays on, and the further they get, the thicker the air in the room feels. Josh doesn't even allow himself to get distracted until the second story-line, the flashback's sepia-tone and the school bus children's masks making him think back to his childhood. Beth used to make them masks every Halloween and their mother would design their costumes. Every year they would switch who got to pick the theme.
Josh was just as happy when Hannah made him wear a prince costume as when Beth made him a machete wielding psycho.
This year, there will be no dressing up. No glitter. No fake blood. Nothing.
Scrapping his top teeth along his bottom lip, Josh begins to realize that he can't handle this right now. Even with Mike here, it's too quiet without Chris's constant commentary. The ghost in his mind start to haunt this room when he's in it too long without constant mental stimulation.
Unable to handle it anymore, Josh rises to his feet. He just needs some fresh air to get his mind off of things.
"Dude, I'll be right back." He doesn't wait for a response, because nothing could stop him.
At least, that's what he thought.
When Josh starts to move, there is a tug at the bottom of his jacket sleeve that stops him mid-step. He pulls against whatever he’s snagged on without giving it much attention, but when it doesn’t give way, he tries to free himself with his other hand.
What he's met with is not what he expected.
Mike’s fingers are tightly bound up in the fabric of his sleeve, and his voice shakes as he speaks, “Please, don’t leave.”
“Wha-”
The music suddenly hits a set of high notes that radiates through the room and sends Mike into a fit of flailing. He lowers his head like something is trying to hit him and his voice breaks, “Pl-lease. I… Fuck!”
Josh raises an eyebrow at the other boy. He never imagined that the President of the Student Council and renowned ladies man could be such a scaredy-cat, and it's actually kind of adorable in a weird way.
“Are you seriously that afraid?” Josh is holding in a burst of laughter as he puts his hands on either side of Mike’s shoulders. “Please tell me, you aren’t that afraid of a silly horror movies.”
A scream echoes through the speakers and sends Mike hurling to his feet with a legit high-pitched squeal, knocking Josh off balance and sending him tumbling backwards.
"Shit!" He catches himself on the back of the couch, a sharp pain radiating through the bottom half of his body as he lands in the popcorn bucket causing half of the snack to be crushed and the other half to pour out onto the couch and the floor.
“AHH! HOLY FUCK SHIT! SHIT! FUCK! DAMN! FUCK!” Mike swears as he jogs in place, eyes closed tightly like if he can't see his own fear, it won't be there. "Jesus! Fuck this shit!"
Sitting wide-eyed, Josh gives Mike a few seconds to stop his ranting before asking, "Bro, are you okay?"
The destruction Mike has created flashes in his eyes as he finally gets a hold of himself. His hands are on Josh immediately, pulling him up from the pile of popcorn and plastic. "Dude, I'm so sorry. Shit."
"It's all good! Chill out." Josh waves off Mike's apology as he gets to his feet.
Taking the plastic bucket, Josh immediately starts cleaning up the concession mess, laughing to himself as he works. "So, you're a weenie. Interesting development."
Instead of putting in any assistance cleaning the mess he created, Mike hovers behind Josh's back. He's still out of breath and keeps bending over to place his palms against his knees like his stomach hurts.
"Dude, fuck you. That," Mike points to the screen like it's a dog that's pooped on the carpet and needs to be punished, "is fucking scary."
"Yeah, whatever." Josh sweeps at the kernels, knocking the majority of them off the cushions, but tiny pieces still cling to the dark fibers. He's going to have to vacuum once Mike leaves. Fun. "You're more of scream queen than Jess and Ashley combined. Going to change your contact in everyone's phone to, 'scream king - ahhhhh!' plus a ghost, skull emoji combo."
Mike mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, "asshole," but doesn't deny anything. He should know that he is now going to be the laughing stock of every conversation Josh has for the next two weeks, at the very least, and there is nothing he can do about it. Josh already knows who he's going to spew this to first.
He can already hear the distant, future ring of Chris's laugh above the music still humming through the theater's sound system.
"I can see why Emily can't get enough of you. You're like a little kitten!" Josh beams at Mike as he pinches one of the boy's cheeks with his free hands - his voice raised in a babyish babble. "Ohhhh! I could just eat you up, Mr. President!"
"You wish!" Mike cracks a smile as he playfully slaps Josh's hand - the tension once carved into his body now lost to humor. "I'm a bit out of your league."
"Pfft! I'm the one who is out of your league! I have good looks, a great personality, rich parents, and a zero break-up record! Whatchu got, punk?"
"Oh-ho! I see," Mike flashes his pearly write teeth and bites the tip of his tongue at Josh. "Big man thinks not dating is the same as never breaking-up."
"Isn't it?" Josh pops back with a wave of cockiness. "Don't get caught up in the technicalities and admit that I am a grade A stud-muffin!"
"A stale stud-muffin maybe."
"Oooohhhhh! Hoooooo! Dis bitch." Josh points at Mike and motions his head around the empty room like he's talking to a crowd of people. "Everyone get a good look because this man is going to be singing a different tune when this stale stud-muffin is no longer on the menu."
"I don't think you'll ever be off my menu." Mike actually freaking winks as his laugh rises high over the sound of people getting murdered on the screen, and Josh feels at ease knowing that he pulled such a sound out of fear. Mike's laugh is light even through its deep tone - the vocal representation of a lush forest with sunlight bursting through cracks in the canopy - and it fills up the dark places in Josh with something he's never experienced.
This guy might actually be okay.
Josh makes a face and bends over to drop the bucket on the floor. The room is a complete mess and the possibility of it getting cleaned up, while a certain asshole gets a giggle out of his lack of past lovers, is non-existent.
He can't help it he is a pure, innocent angel and Michael is the spawn of a succubus.
"Oh, hey, dude, there's some popcorn on your pants," Mike comments out of the blue, his laugh lost to his realization.
Something suddenly brushes against the back of Josh's jeans and he goes wide-eyed, doing his best impression of a ice sculpture - frozen in place.
Mike - Michael Motherfucking Munroe - has the palm of his hand firmly pressed to Josh's back pockets and is roughly dusting pieces of popcorn off of his ass like he does it all the time.
Josh doesn't know what to do. His heart beat hitches and his face warms by at least 100 degrees. He shouldn't be this embarrassed by a bro helping a fellow bro out, but the bubbling at the back of his throat tells him that the feelings he's currently experiencing might not be as 'no homo' as he'd like to imagine.
"Um..." The sound tumbles out of his mouth like chum to sharks as he turns with the grace of a plastic, toy robot. "M-Mike?"
"Hm?" Mike hums, confusion written in the small tilt of his head as he takes in Josh's burning expression. "What?"
"I know I'm hot and all, but I don't normally let guys touch my ass on the first date."
Josh isn't sure if the words register in Mike's mind, but when his smile hesitantly breaks and his hand falls to his side, it's like watching puzzle pieces fall into place.
An awkward silence bounces between them for a good two minutes as the movie, that Josh couldn't care less about now, moves on to a much calmer scene. Josh doesn't think he's ever stared at another human being for this long before. Without looking away, he can almost feel the rise and fall of Mike's chest as it mirrors his own, slow but shaky.
Mike opens his mouth but words don't come out.
Josh does the same, but again there is nothing.
A new tension prickles the hairs on the teen's arms as Mike's gaze snaps away from his to fall to his lips. Josh's throat puts a cap on the air in his lungs, refusing to let him ruin this moment with a stupid joke or dorky reference. A little voice in his head soothes him with a reassurance that if something happens, he shouldn't be afraid.
'Look the beast dead in the eyes, Joshua.'
Josh never imagined that Michael Munroe would be one of the beasts.
Mike takes a quick step forward and places both of his hands against Josh's face, cupping his cheeks, his expression stern like he's taking some sort of test.
If Josh backs away, he's failed.
But Josh doesn't move. In fact, he fucking smiles like a goddamn idiot - all coolness he's ever had flies away with each exposed tooth.
What's weird is that this doesn't turn Mike away. Instead he smiles back. It's not a silly or awkward as Josh's but there is no judgement hidden behind it either. It actually feels like it's just the reassurance Mike needs.
Passing the barrier of their strange friendship into something else, the dark haired teens presses their lips together with a silver screen sweetness that Josh didn't know two sets of real-life lips had the capability to replicate.
His first kiss begins with stubble scratching his chin, but also with gentle thumbs rubbing the pain away.
Josh's whole body shifts into emergency auto-pilot like he's about to crash if given any control. His fingers knot into the fabric on Mike's forearms, probably a little tighter than they should be, and he returns with enthusiasm he didn't think he had. He wants to pull Mike closer, but his elbows buckle and he's stuck melting.
Mike gasps into Josh's mouth and something in his brain short-circuits. Electricity zaps across Josh's skin where they touch, rockets down to his feet, and back up to his brain, giving the sensation of sticking a fork into an electrical outlet.
All too soon, though Mike pulls away from him.
He looks freaking terrified, and Josh's guilt starts to gnaw its way through the foreign fluffy feeling that's taken up residence in his gut.
For Mike, this was a mistake. It was a huge mistake, and Josh can't take it back. Neither of them can.
"Uh, I need to go." Mike shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, but doesn't leave at first. He's watching Josh like he needs permission to exit.
Josh says nothing. He simply replays the kiss over and over on repeat like it's the best film he's ever watched.
Mike takes this amazed silence as permission, and leaves Josh with empty hands.
He's already gone somewhere into the hallway by the time Josh comes to his senses, blinking back to life. Another scream echoes through the room from the discarded film and it startles him. For the first time in his life, Josh Washington reacts to a jump scare - his whole body flinching.
Everything feels like a dream, every detail of the room drowning under the weight of something that can't possibly be real.
It can't be real, right? Were his meds fucking him up that much? Did he hallucinate all of this?
Mike kissed him.
He kissed Mike.
Right?
Josh does a quick inventory of his surrounding - something an old therapist told him to do - to concrete himself in reality.
The popcorn bucket is real. Mike's hoodie draped over the back of the couch is real. His trembling hands are real. His warm lips are real.
And the minty ghost of Mike's mouth on the tip of his tongue is real.
"Oh my god. Please don't leave..." Josh finally chokes out as his head cools, but it's too late and his words are meaningless.
The recipient of the plea is long gone, leaving Josh's first love letter unopened in a trashcan.