#mike/michael

[what-aboutit-questionmark]

Hearing that you liked the tattoo soulmate au made me envision something like:

Michael grabbing Mike's wrist (probably in order to thwart the attempt of Mike smacking away Michael's cigarette from his fingers. Bonus point if it's in the library at school with no one else around-) and says "Fuck you, you conformist". Which is then in turn forms the tattoo around Mike's wrist where Michael grabbed his wrist. Even more bonus points if it's in Michael's cursive handwriting.

Cute or stupid? Not entirely sure, but part of me thinks the idea would've been something you can kinda enjoy.

-Mike/Michael fanfic anon

It’s cute! I enjoy this. So like when by Michael touching him the mark formed? I think that’s interesting! Like maybe it’s the first time he touched him, skin to skin, and where he first touched him it created the soul mark.

Maybe you’ll enjoy this idk.

I can imagine Michael being in the poetry section of the library smoking a cigarette and Mike wanders towards him, smelling the smoke maybe. No librarians around to tattle to. Maybe in this AU they haven’t had much interaction, just many passing crude words, shoulder shoves, but still there hasn’t been much of a great big war between them.

Michael maybe wouldn’t spot him, or he’d just ignore the other staring at him. Mike would work up the courage, “You shouldn’t smoke, but especially in a closed in area, smoke sticks. You might yellow the books! If you keep it up you also might burn a hole in a book!” Michael would probably roll is eyes, and blow smoke in Mike’s face.

“Whatever you poser. Why don’t you back to your wannabe group of conformists?” It wasn’t actually a question, a command so maybe Mike would leave him alone.

Mike would get irritated. If Michael really cared about the poems in the books he shouldn’t just be flicking hot ash all over. “Don’t, smoke.” Mike would say suddenly, lowly, and very fast Mike would reach for Michael’s cigarette.

Michael would take a step back, holding his cigarette higher and farther away. He’d fumble with the book he was holding for a moment. He’d try to put it down properly, but ultimately he’d drop it in the process of trying to stop Mike from taking his cigarette.

Michael would grab harshly onto the other’s wrist. “Fuck you, you conformist!” His grip would be tight, then he’d shove Mike’s hand back. When he’d let go he’d reach down to get the book and toss it on some shelf, not caring at this point. He’d shake his head and not even look back at Mike as he would leave.

Michael left. He’d leave angry, he’d leave still smoking the cigarette though, Mike didn’t get it which made him satisfied.

Mike would stay, he’d be frozen, holding his wrist. At first he was going to shout at Michael, but the moment the other would let go of his wrist, his skin would start to feel strange. His brows would furrow and he’d look down at his wrist. It would start to burn.

He’d know in his mind that Michael’s cigarette was a ways away from him, but his wrist was burning. He thought he got confused for a moment. Maybe Michael did burn him.

But there was no circular burn, just something burning under his skin. He’d start to rub skin eventually, just looking down at it.

Looking down at it, not understanding the pain, pink letters would form, and pink would turn to red. Red made it burn worse and Mike just looked down with a mind that was spiraling. Mike would look in slight confusion for a few moments, continuing to rub his arm, trying hard to sooth it.

Then when he found he could read the red markings, he’d want to take a step back from his own wrist in shock, step away from his own body.

On his wrist was Michael’s name in Michael’s own hand writing. As if Michael had signed Mike himself.

Red letters would fade back to pink eventually but alone in the library the burn from his arm wouldn’t stop Mike from just double, triple, and even going as far as to do an eighth check to make sure his thoughts were in order. Michael was his soulmate.

Mike would wear more bracelets than usua the next dayl, he wouldn’t let anyone know. Mike found out Michael was his soulmate, yet it looked like Michael had no idea. All in all, and they hated each other.

Days would pass, one day Mike would wait outside for Michael to pass, he was tired of dealing with the crisis on his own. Michael didn’t have anything on his palm, so Mike figured he had to do the same thing to Michael. He wanted Michael to know the anxiety he had been dealing with. They were soulmates somehow, but they weren’t even friends.

Michael would be walking to the back of the school and Mike would step, and grab his hand. He meant the wrist like Michael had done to him but Mike had gotten the back of his hand.

Michael would jump, he’d back up, he’d pull his hand back, but for a second before the hands disconnected, Mike had squeezed Michael’s hand as fast as possible. Then Michael got away.

“What the fuck?! Freak, you damn poser, don’t touch me!” Michael would look at Mike with confusion and slight horror.

Mike stood, just looking for a moment looking at Michael. Michael’s eyes only turned away when Mike would see it was getting red, then turn away, he’d wait. Let Michael deal with it on his own for a time.

At the end of the school day Mike would get a look at Michael, and see suddenly he was wearing fingerless gloves. He was smoking, as usual, but the moment his eyes met Mike’s he’d choke, he’d go into a coughing fit. He’d turn away and cough into his elbow. His face would get red and when he turned back, he’d stare at the other.

He would look slightly nervous, confused, but tried to make himself look angry. Michael would try to glare at Mike, but the rest of his body language would say he was confused.

Mike would go home that day knowing now, Michael was stuck in the same crisis as him. Michael would avoid Mike even more than usual, keeping the glove in. Usually just the one, just to hide the other’s name.

[felixcosm]

Michael comes home one day with an actual tree on his shoulder, barely fitting in the doorway with all the branches in the way. Snow and loose pine needles litter the hallway and when Mike gets up to see what the commotion is all about, he just stares until Michael yells at him to help.

They put the tree in the corner (covering up a section of the wall that had water damage stains which neither of them admitted to being bothered by) and already it's making their shitty Latvian apartment look ten times cozier.

At first they settle on stringing up popcorn and cheap fairy lights, until Michael starts carving little ornaments out of wood and eventually Boris comes down with some decorations. He claims that a previous tenant left it behind once but they seem suspiciously new.

Neither Michael nor Mike mention this.

In lieu of stockings they hang up actual socks and over the month, they fill each other's with little gifts.

Michael cooks some ham he and Boris hunted, Mike makes them both spiked hot chocolate and they watch the most awful Christmas movies on the couch together, huddled close for warmth under a blanket with Bruno.

[oneeyed-jacks]

Seeing as we ain’t s’posed t’ bet on the clock I don’t owe Jessie money