i think they cut this out in livestream but hereâs dougie and andrei in the handshake line from last nightđ„șđ„čand ive been both ecstatic and miserable ever since. enjoy everybody
For the always welcome prompt: Anything where Mike and Liam are happy
Teensy bit NSFW because, well, it's Mike and Liam.
The kitchenâs always been Mikeâs favourite room of the house.
Well, Liam would like to think itâs his second favourite room, but it probably isnât. Itâs not like they keep shit confined to the bedroom or anything anyway. There isnât a surface in this house that Liam hasnât gotten bent over at some point, though Mike was very, very thorough about disinfecting the kitchen counter after. Totally anal about it.
âWhy are you snickering to yourself,â Mike says.
It doesnât even come out suspicious, heâs gotten into such a rhythm cutting little stars out of a sheet of cookie dough. He probably wouldnât admit this even to himself, but while Mike may like to cook, he loves to bake. Only ever does it for others, though, like the baking itself isnât unmanly but eating the results is.
That means Liam usually only gets to sample his baking one filched cookie at a time, which is bullshit. But also, probably good for his career. Mikeâs just as good at baking as he is at cooking. Possibly even better, but Liamâs got a sweet tooth, so heâs probably biased.
âLiam,â Mike says, and Liam realises he hasnât bothered to answer.
âThought of a sex joke,â Liam says.
Mike snorts. âOf course you did,â he says. âDo I want to hear it?â
âYou always do,â Liam says. Mike secretly thinks heâs hilarious.
âGo ahead,â Mike says, trying and failing to sound long-suffering. Cutting little stars is clearly his happy place. Liamâs going to go completely nuts online later buying cookie cutters. He wonders if they have little skulls and crossbones or rockets or something. Maybe Mike will let them keep a batch of cookies if theyâre badass enough. Probably not, but a man can hope.
âRemember how we fucked in the kitchen?â Liam asks.
âWhich time?â Mike asks.
Liam waves a hand. âIrrelevant to the joke.â
âOkay,â Mike says. âYes, I remember.â
âSo I was thinking about how you were, you know, super thorough cleaning the counters off after?â Liam asks.
âI prepare food on these counters,â Mike says. âThey need to beââ
âNot saying you shouldnât have been,â Liam says. âJust, you know. That was kind of anal of you.â
Mike doesnât stop himself from snorting in time. âThat was bad,â he says, a second too late. âCompletely juvenile.â
âI know,â Liam says cheerfully. Made Mike snort, though, so what does that say about him?
Mike looks down at his handiwork, a sea of stars across the baking sheet, enough for every member of the roster.
âYouâre making two batches, right?â Liam asks. Itâs just the team for this one, no significant others or kids, so technically only one batch is needed, but one per person doesnât work out well. There are thieves on that team. He should know: heâs one of them.
âThree,â Mike says. âMake sure thereâs enough for the support staff.â
Once again, Mike is going to be the most popular person at the team Christmas party. Third straight year. Liam thinks they should make him a trophy or something.
âCan we decorate them to be North Stars?â Liam asks. âOr is that not Christmassy enough?â
âWhy do you think I picked stars, Fitzgerald?â Mike asks, and Liam grins at him. âWhy donât you make yourself useful, find the green food colouring for me?â
Liam has no idea where the fuck it would be, but he has eyes and hands and enthusiasm, and the full awareness that Mike will gripe at him from across the room like a backseat searcher until he locates it.
âWhy would it be in there?â Mike asks, as Liam opens the cupboards, and Liam grins at the mixing bowls. The gripingâs already begun.
âBaking stuff,â Liam says.
Mike sighs, and Liam moves one over.
âLiam,â he says, and Liam grins wider. âReally?â
âTell me where to go, and Iâm there,â Liam says, but instead Mike pins him against the counter, basically surrounding him. Liam leans back into him, closes his eyes when Mike wraps an arm around his chest, brushes his lips against Liamâs temple, the kind of thing heâd deny was a kiss if asked. âWhat? Kiss you? My mouth just happened to be in the area, donât flatter yourselfâ.
Liam tilts his head up, and he gets a proper kiss for that, though Mike pulls away just as heâs starting to get a crick in his neck. He always seems to know, somehow.
Mike presses another not-kiss to his cheekbone, then smacks his ass. âGo find me the food colouring,â he says.
It takes ten minutes, and Mike almost throws the cookie cutter at him, but eventually Liam locates it.
âCan I help make the frosting?â he asks.
âYou just want to lick the beaters,â Mike says, but he doesnât say no.
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