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"It’s a Very Extraordinary Scene - Part 1"
Title: It's a Very Extraordinary Scene - Pt. 1
Pairing: There really isn't one...yet.
Rating: Just PG in this part.
Warnings: None really worth mentioning.
Disclaimer: Do not own!
Summary: Mike puts his plan into action.
Author's Note: This is part one of this 2-part chapter. This one sort of sets the scene for the action to follow.
Peter was at home alone, re-stringing his bass and absently humming “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” under his breath when the telephone suddenly rang.
Oh good, I guess we did have the money to pay the phone bill this month, was Peter’s first thought as he set his bass carefully aside. He walked over to the table where the phone sat and picked up the receiver by the third ring.
“Hey Peter, it’s Mike,” the voice on the other end said.
“Oh, hey Mike,” Peter said, relaxing as he realized it wasn’t another bill collector or worse, their landlord calling to find out why they were already four days behind on their rent payment. “What’s going on?”
There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Mike said, “Can you hop a bus and come meet me at the diner at the intersection of 18th Street and Granada?”
Peter’s relaxed stance instantly became tense once again. “What’s wrong, Mike? Did the Monkeemobile break down?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Everything’s fine. I just need you to meet me, that’s all.”
Peter felt confused, but he also felt a bit relieved that nothing bad was apparently happening. He shrugged and felt around in his pocket, coming up with three quarters and two dimes.
“Yeah, okay. I have enough for bus fare. I’ll leave right now and head down to the stop.”
“Groovy, see you when you get here,” Mike said. “Bye.”
Peter hung up the receiver and immediately headed for the door, with only the tiniest portion of his mind still wondering what exactly that phone call had been all about.
Less than twenty minutes later, the bus was dropping him off at the 18th Street stop, and he walked the two blocks down to Granada Street. The worse-for-wear diner with its fading blue and white paint looked mostly deserted at around two in the afternoon, but Mike was waiting outside in the parking lot, as promised.
He looks nervous, was Peter’s first observation as Mike drew closer. Despite this, however, Peter managed a wide smile as his friend stopped in front of him.
“Well, here I am!”
Mike’s lips curved up at the corners. “Yeah, here you are.” He paused, looking around a bit uncertainly, as if unsure of where to go or what to say next. For a brief few seconds the only sounds were the passing of traffic and the melancholy cries of the seagulls gliding and swooping high above their heads.
Finally, Mike said, “Get in the car. We’re takin’ a short ride.”
Peter looked slightly surprised. “Oh! Okay. I thought you were just asking me out for a cup of coffee or something. Where are we going?”
“It’s not far,” Mike said a bit evasively as he and Peter piled into the Monkeemobile.
“What’s not f....?” Peter started to ask, but then Mike cranked the big car into life, gunning the engine sportily and drowning out Peter’s question.
As they backed out of the diner lot and pulled away, Peter shrugged, trusting that Mike would show him what he was up to soon enough, and just settled back to enjoy the sea breeze ruffling his hair. He was unaware that Mike was watching him intently in between glances at the road ahead of him.
Not even five minutes later, they were pulling around the back of a rather nondescript white building which appeared to be some sort of flower and produce market on its lower floor, and blank windows on the second level.
Without a word, Mike unfolded his lanky frame from the car and walked over to where a door was set into the side of the building. Curious and a bit apprehensive, Peter followed.
Inside a set of stairs ran upward. Peter could clearly hear the sounds from the produce market on the other side of the wall, but apparently this staircase was in its own separate space, because he could see no door leading out that way.
As they came to the second floor landing, Mike moved down a dimly lit, narrow hallway with a door on either side. He stopped in front of the door to the left and reached into his pocket, producing a bronze key. Quickly, he used the key to unlock the door, opening it and motioning Peter inside.
“Michael...Where...?” Peter began.
“Come inside and I’ll explain,” Mike said, his voice sounding slightly urgent, and that nervous expression still in his eyes.
Frowning slightly at these bizarre circumstances, Peter stepped into the apartment, for that was clearly what this was. There was well-worn but comfortable looking furniture in the living space, with huge Indian tapestries on the walls and on the floor. A tiny kitchenette stood at one end of the living room. A closed door on the other end clearly led to the bedroom, while the open door just beside it revealed a glimpse of a sink and shower.
“Go ahead and sit down,” Mike said, motioning to the couch. Peter did so, slowly, feeling more and more like an intruder. Evidently Mike had no such feelings. He strode over to the kitchenette with the air of someone who knew his way around this place very well, and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of beer.
“Want one?” he asked Peter. Peter shook his head. He wasn’t much of a drinker, and beer had never been to his taste. If he drank anything at all, it might be a glass of wine now and again.
What Peter really wanted was some answers, but he waited, instinctively knowing that Mike would be forthcoming with those answers shortly. He watched, a bit uneasily, as Mike popped the cap off the beer and drank over half of it down in a series of long swallows. This seemed to relax him somewhat, and he strolled slowly back into the living room and stood on the other side of the coffee table from where Peter sat.
“It’s cool, Peter,” Mike said, his voice soothing. “A buddy of mine lives here. I come here a lot and we jam on some tunes together or watch some TV and drink a few beers. He’s got a gig up San Francisco way, so he told me I could use his place while he’s gone.”
Peter felt reassured upon hearing this, now that part of the mystery had been explained. However, there was still one little piece of the puzzle that Mike hadn’t quite clicked into place yet.
“But Mike....Why did you bring me here?”
Mike stood looking at Peter for a long, silent moment, as if deep in thought. He drained the remains of the beer, setting the empty bottle down on the coffee table, and then came around to settle onto the couch beside his friend.
“There’s really no easy way for me to ask you this,” Mike said, and Peter was amazed to see that Mike’s hands were actually trembling a bit. What on Earth was going on here?
“Go ahead and ask it, Mike,” Peter said, his eyes slightly wide. “It’s okay, man. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
Mike sighed, and then focused his gaze on Peter as he said softly, “you know that I have feelings for you, Peter.”
Peter nodded. He had been aware of that for some time now.
Shifting his long legs nervously, Mike continued, “and the stuff we’ve been doing together. You know, the stuff between you and me and....and Micky....It’s been fun and all....”
Peter nodded again, but the confused frown was back on his face as he tried really hard to understand where Mike was coming from. Whatever it was he was trying to say, it seemed to be very important to him, and Peter wanted to give Mike the full benefit of his support. It was only right.
“But there’s still something that’s been missing,” Mike continued now, shifting closer to Peter and slipping a hand softly up his arm up to his shoulder. His dark hazel eyes held Peter’s light brown ones. “There’s something that I want...no, that I need...from you. You....You’re the only one that I ever even thought of doing this with, Peter. I want you to know that.”
More confused than ever, Peter couldn’t help but murmur in a soft, mystified tone. “Do what, Mike? What do you need me to do?”
Mike swallowed hard in the silence. Peter could clearly hear the click in his throat.
“Well, it’s like this...I’ve never let a man fuck me before....but I....I want you to be my first, Peter. Will you do that for me?”