chicken soup for the soul
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It wasn’t like you’d necessarily been waiting for Mike to come home. That would be weird and wrong and also far overstepping your bounds as his neighbor. Spying out your window for his car to come back from work would absolutely be taking it too far. So you had your blinds more-or-less closed (they were actually just barely peeking open so that you could get some sun and that was definitely the only reason), your headphones on to blast music (one side of them was hanging off your ear so you could listen to the ambient sounds of your house and not the sound of a car pulling into a driveway), and your mind buried in a good book (you hadn’t turned a page in ten minutes).
Okay, so maybe you were waiting. But you had made too much chicken noodle soup for dinner tonight and you knew that he liked it. And Abby liked it too, so it was basically a triple win for you: make Abby happy, get rid of your extra soup, and see Mike for a few minutes. Everyone would be happy overall—you just had to wait for the babysitter to leave after Mike got back.
You liked their babysitter well enough—her name was Max, you thought—but it wasn’t really her that you wanted to see tonight. So even though you absolutely could drop off the soup to her and leave, you were here at your window, waiting. Like a normal person.
You were worrying your lip and going to check the clock again when the sound of an old car pulling in came from your half-cracked window.
Which. Was also normal. It was stuffy in the house, okay?
You were trying to justify your own actions to yourself now, and that’s how you knew it was bad. As if the fact that you brought over food at least once a week wasn’t a big enough sign. Honestly, if Mike didn’t know that you were head-over-heels for him by now then he was either incredibly oblivious or just plain not interested, and you weren’t sure which would be worse for you. You sighed and rubbed your forehead before standing up and heading over to the fridge. You grabbed the bigger container of soup to bring over, then paused for a minute, waiting to see Max’s pickup truck pull out of the Schmidt’s driveway.
Once it was gone, you pulled on your shoes, paused to check that your hair hadn’t done anything weird in the past few hours, and then headed over. You paused in front of their door for a second, taking a deep breath before grabbing onto your container again and knocking.
There was nothing for a second, then footsteps.
“Max, did you forget something…?” You heard as Mike opened the door, rubbing his eyes before he recognized you.
“Hey,” you said with a little smile, feeling nerves explode in your stomach, even though you saw him semi-frequently. “I made too much food tonight and was wondering if maybe you and Abby would want some?” You raised the container like an offering.
Mike looked at you for a second, then exhaled a little. A faint smile appeared on his tired face, and he backed away from the door, leaving enough room for you to slide past him. “Yeah, come on in.” You slid past him carefully, feeling the heat from his chest on the skin of your arm. He smelled good, which really should be impossible for a man who just got done with a security shift. Mike Schmidt managed to once again defy all your possible expectations in the best way.
“You keep bringing over food and I’m gonna start to expect it,” he said as you traipsed over to his kitchen, setting the container down on the table before turning to look at him. “You really don’t have to, you know.”
“I’m just bad at portioning stuff out,” you said with a shrug, lying through your teeth. You’d been cooking for yourself for a long time, you could definitely make one-person meals. But he didn’t need to know that.
“Sure,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not complaining, I guess. Abby will love it too.”
“It’s been too long since I’ve actually seen her,” you said, tipping your head to the right. “She doing alright?”
“Same as always. Drawing lots of pictures, talking to her imaginary friends. Normal things.” He shrugged a little.
“I’ll have to stop by on a Saturday and bring her a treat or something,” you mused. “I’ve got to hear all about her new drawings.”
“I’m sure she’d like that,” he said, and you could see him eyeing the soup on the table.
“You been home long?” You asked, even though you knew the answer, and he shook his head. “Let me get you some of this, then. You’re probably starved.”
“I can dish it out—” he said, but you’d already grabbed a bowl. You gave him a little smile and a wink.
“Go sit down, Mike,” you said while starting to pour the soup into the bowl. “You look beat.”
“You don’t have to take care of me,” he said, you rolled your eyes.
“I know. I just want to.”
He didn’t say anything after that, but he did give you a nod, looking up at you with his big brown eyes before looking back down to his hands, which were tapping out the rhythm of some silent song that only he could hear. You watched his fingers for a minute while the soup spun circles in the microwave, the faint hums from the machine filling the empty air. His hands were strong, with thick fingers calloused from the various jobs he’d worked at over time. Short nails, not necessarily trimmed nicely, but rather kept short out of necessity. Probably bitten—you’d caught him biting them once or twice when he was thinking or stressed. They looked like the perfect size to hold—
And then the microwave went off, making you scramble to turn it off before the beeping bothered Abby, who you assumed was asleep. Probably for the best that it’d gone off when it had, even if you wouldn’t have minded just looking at Mike for a little longer.
He was pretty. Handsome in ways that made you think that he could have been some big-name actor in a different life. It was always tempting to just keep your eyes on him, even though you knew you really shouldn’t.
“Soup is done,” you said, pulling out a spoon and testing the broth and a noodle to make sure that it’d warmed up evenly. It was warm all the way through, so you stuck the spoon in and slid it over to him, pausing for a second. “Shoot, I put my mouth on that one—let me get you a new spoon. Sorry, Mike.”
“Nah,” he answered, grabbing the handle of the spoon and bringing it up to his mouth, “it’s fine.” He swallowed, and you watched the way his neck moved, having to forcefully wrench your mind away from the thoughts that started to creep in. He was too attractive, it just wasn’t fair. A hardworking guy who was strong, kind, a good big brother, and handsome? It was like putting a marshmallow in front of a kid and telling them not to touch it. Pure torture.
Especially when you were basically having an indirect kiss because he ate with your spoon—
You had to remind yourself that you were a fully grown adult and that you didn’t need to get excited about indirect kisses. You had to draw a line somewhere, after all.
“Well, I’ll get out of your hair,” you said after a second. Mike finished another bite of soup and then looked at you again. He roughly swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and then cleared his throat.
“You can stay,” he said and gestured to the seat next to him. “Abby is asleep, not like I’ve got much else to do tonight.”
“Didn’t you just get off of work? I don’t want to keep you awake if you’re tired.”
“I think I can survive staying awake for a little longer,” he said with a wry smile. “‘sides, I think I found a show you’d like.”
You looked at him carefully, then huffed out a quiet laugh. “Alright, if you insist. I can’t turn down a good movie, after all. But if you feel tired at all, you tell me and I’ll leave.”
He waved you off and then went back to his soup, quickly finishing it off before standing up, bowl in hand. You held your hand out to take it from him, but he gently nudged your arm down with his elbow. “You made dinner, you don’t do dishes,” he said as he walked past you. “It’s a rule in this house, you know.”
You were ignoring the way that comment made you feel, but you were glad that he was facing the sink now and not you because your face was bright red. “You have rules in this house? Crazy.”
You heard the sink turn on as he rinsed the bowl off, and then a brief clatter as it landed in what you assumed was the dishwasher. “And here I was thinking that Abby was the only smart aleck here,” he called to you as he walked back in, casually wiping his hands on his jeans. He looked at you just standing in the kitchen and a small smile crept across his face.
“Well?” He asked, smile fading to just the edges of his lips, “you going to sit down to watch the show or are we just gonna end up standing around all night?”
You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling as you sat down on his couch. There was a blanket folded next to you and you grabbed it. “Yeah, yeah. What are we watching, anyway?”
“New show I found called The Immortal and the Restless. It’s trash, but it’s nice to relax to.” He sat down next to you, so close you could feel the heat from his skin on yours. You let your leg relax a little, falling closer to his as you unfolded the blanket and spread it across both of your laps.
“Can’t have a movie without a blanket,” you said when he raised an eyebrow at you. “It’s practically a crime if you don’t.”
“I’d hate to run into the police tonight, so I guess I’ll accept it,” he said, tugging a little more towards him. The blanket was big enough that you both fit pretty comfortably beneath it, unfortunately.
Not unfortunately. Shut up, brain.
He flicked on the show, and you let your mind wander as the story of a vampire and his scorned lover, Clara, played on the TV. Mike was right. It was trash, but in a kind of fun way. The cliffhangers were a little hamfisted, but they did pique your interest for the next part of the story. It was interesting enough that you could tune in if needed, but you could also let your mind wander when you were bored. Like now. Because Mike was next to you, and he was clearly more invested in the story than he’d let on before, his head concentrated on the TV, eyes darting back and forth between the characters as they interacted. Which just made it easier for you to watch him, to observe the way faint expressions crossed his face, spelling out what he was feeling through minuscule details.
Your eyes traced over the line of his jaw, which was dotted with soft stubble, and then up to where his broad nose sat, slightly crooked, like it’d been broken and re-fixed when he was younger. His hair hung over his forehead, curling slightly at the edges and sticking up messily in the back. You wanted to run your fingers through it, flattening the particularly egregious parts—or maybe making it worse, mussing the faint curls into a nest of something partly untangleable.
You were just about to turn away from your careful observation of his face when he huffed a little and slung his arm up to the top of the couch, not quite over your shoulders but so close you could feel the warmth of his arm radiating over your back. Your face flushed, and you abruptly turned to look at the show, where Vlad the vampire was once again denying that his son was actually his.
He wasn’t even touching you, but the closeness made your heart beat faster and the butterflies in your stomach start their wingbeats. You let them flutter as you tuned back into the show, paying attention to the chaos that was happening onscreen. Minutes passed, and just as you were tempted to look back at Mike, you felt something fall onto your shoulder. Confused, you turned to see Mike asleep in what was quite possibly the least comfortable position ever. His neck was craned at an uncomfortable angle with his arm still on the top of the couch, meaning that he was partly asleep on his own shoulder and partly asleep on yours.
“Oh, Mike,” you said quietly, and carefully shifted yourself to make him more comfortable, pulling his arm down from the top of the couch so that he could rest his head more comfortably against you. He let out a quiet murmur of something that you couldn’t catch and buried his head into your shoulder, exhaling lightly before stilling again, his breathing deep and even. Unable to resist, you carefully leaned over and dropped a soft kiss on the top of his head before looking back to the TV for a second, relaxing in the warmth of him next to you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You woke up slowly, blinking several times as your vision slowly cleared up. Your mouth was dry, and you swallowed a few times, trying your best to gather up some moisture. The TV in front of you was playing something loud, and you narrowed your eyes at it, mind slowly trying to take in what had happened.
That was when you heard a deep groan from behind you and felt a hand on your stomach pulling you closer to the warm body behind you. You just accepted it at first, snuggling backward into them, but then you heard a young voice from in front of you that had you sitting bolt upright.
“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were going to have a sleepover?” Abby asked, standing in front of you, her arms crossed. “I want to have a sleepover too, no fair.”
“Abby!” You gasped, and from behind you there came a quiet groan from who you now knew had to be Mike.
“Abs?” He said, his voice deep and husky with sleep. His hand was still on your hip, fingers lightly tightening as he pulled himself from the depths of sleep. You ignored how good his voice sounded and how much the touch of his hand had you flustered in favor of trying to smooth your hair down from where it was undoubtedly a mess. “What’re you talking ‘bout…”
You could tell when he noticed you because his voice cut off quickly as he pulled his hand off you and you heard a rustling noise behind you as he sat up as well. You also noticed him quickly grabbing the blanket that you guys must have fallen asleep under and placing it over his lap, which only made your embarrassed blush brighter.
“Sorry Abby,” you said running your hands through your hair nervously, “we didn’t mean to have a sleepover without you—I must have just fallen asleep by accident.”
She gave you a look that only a ten-year-old could give, and you gave her what you hoped was a winning smile. “Fine,” she said eventually, and then just sat down in front of the TV, near your feet. She didn’t say anything else to you, which was pretty much typical for her. She did, however, let you lean forward and card your fingers through her messy hair, content to watch whatever cartoon had turned on in the night.
“I’m sorry,” Mike said as he shifted around, looking at you. “Didn’t mean to keep you here all night.”
“I mean, I fell asleep too,” you said with a little laugh. “Not just your fault, Mike. Maybe the blanket was tempting fate.”
“Maybe,” he said with a shake of his head and a hint of a smile on his face. “Well…can I offer you breakfast to make up for it? And for you making dinner last night?”
Abby turned to look at you from the carpet, eyes big. You gave her a smile and a huff of your breath. “Well, only if Miss Abby is okay with it.”
“Yes,” she said, and that was it. But she did scoot a little closer to your feet so you could play with her hair more easily.
“Guess you’re staying then,” Mike said and hauled himself up, letting the blanket fall to the floor. “I’ll get started.”
“You need any help?”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head, “Wouldn’t be much of a repayment if I made you help me cook.”
“If you say so,” you responded and pulled Abby’s hair back to start braiding it. “Do you want two braids?”
She nodded, and you started separating the sections and crossing them over each other, Abby pulling out a hair tie she’d apparently been keeping on her wrist to hand up to you. Little girls and their collections of hair ties.
As you hummed quietly and Abby watched her show, you heard Mike puttering around in the kitchen, pots clanging and the smell of bacon beginning to drift over to where you sat. After you finished off Abby’s hair —it didn’t take long, her hair was fairly short— you tied it off and tossed it lightly over her shoulder. You gave her a little tap on the shoulder. “There you go, sweetheart.”
“Thanks,” she said, and then looked at you. “Do you want to see my drawings?”
“Of course I do,” you said, and she stood up excitedly, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards her room, already talking about her imaginary friends.
You weren’t sure how long it’d taken her to show you all her new drawings, but by the time Mike was calling you for breakfast, she was starting on a new one. She pointed out how she was drawing you standing next to her, holding hands with her as she held hands with Mike as well. Beside you was a child wearing a yellow striped shirt, and next to Mike was a kid in blue wearing a top hat. She was starting on another kid when Mike yelled for you to come and get food.
“Come on Abs,” you said with a smile, “let's grab breakfast real quick, and then we can come back to drawing. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Can my friends come too?” She pointed to the empty space next to you. You nodded.
“Absolutely they can.”
You walked into the kitchen, where Mike had laid out plates and cups that were filled with orange juice. He was just placing a pile of pancakes on the table when you walked in, Abby instantly beelining to what must have been ‘her’ seat. You looked over the spread and smiled.
“I didn’t realize you were such a cook, Mike! I would have stopped bringing stuff over ages ago if I knew.”
“You better not,” Abby said, “You make good food. Mike sucks at making soup.”
“You didn’t have to call me out, Abs,” Mike said with a huff of laughter. “But you’re right. Pancakes are about where my cooking skills begin and end.”
“Well I’m excited to partake in your five-star dish,” you said with a little laugh as you sat down next to Mike, brushing arms. “It looks great. Thank you.”
“Any time,” he said with a shrug. “ ‘s not a big deal.” He nodded to the food, and you saw Abby pile pancakes on her plate, digging in quickly. “You gonna eat or what?”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t dignify him with a response, instead pulling up your chair and grabbing your own pancakes which, upon further investigation, you realized had chocolate chips in them. You bit into them with relish, letting out a happy noise at the taste. “Oh, those are good.”
Mike just watched you with a fond smile on his face before he looked down to his plate. You felt your cheeks color slightly at the look on his face before you looked down yourself, focusing on the food. You ate in contented silence for the rest of the meal until Abby pushed her plate away.
“I’m done,” she said and stood up. “Thanks, Mike. My friends say thanks too.” She looked at you and then gave you a little smile. “Thanks for doing my hair.”
“Any time, Abs. You’ll have to show me your drawings at some point when you get them finished.” She nodded solemnly and then ran off to her room, which made you laugh.
“Well, Mike, thanks for the impromptu sleepover and the breakfast. I’ll have to make it back up to you at some point.” You stood up from the table and grabbed your plate. “I can start by doing the dishes.”
“I got it,” he said, standing up as well, and you held up a hand and waved a finger in his face.
“No way, Michael. Do you recall your rule from last night?”
He gave a little chuckle. “Should have known that’d come back to bite me. Can I at least help a little?”
You looked at him skeptically but relented easily enough. “Just because I like you,” you said, heart fluttering as one side of his mouth raised into a half-grin. “But you’re on drying duty.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, lazily raising one arm to give you half a salute. You smacked him on the arm in retaliation, which just made him drop it back down to his side, where he nudged you lightly on your own side before grabbing the plates stacked on the table and heading over to the sink. You followed suit, scooping up forks and knives in one hand while stacking cups with the other. You placed them in the sink and then pulled out the soap and started scrubbing, Mike next to you, your arms brushing with every dish you washed and he dried. It was peaceful, and you ignored the way that your heart threatened to beat out of your chest with every contact.
You also ignore the way that your eyes kept falling onto his biceps, which were strong and also unnecessarily toned for someone who was just doing the dishes. Seriously. How did he manage to make them look so good? It wasn’t like he was the biggest guy ever, but here he was, with the arms of some higher being. Unfair. Also very nice to look at, so maybe you were just lucky?
Either way, you finished cleaning the dishes far too soon for your liking. Reluctantly, you wrung out the sponge you were using and placed it in the now-empty sink, taking a step back as Mike finished wiping off the last glass.
“Thanks for helping,” you said and huffed a little. “And letting me sleep over, feeding me breakfast, and showing me a fantastically trashy show. I’m sure there’s more I could thank you for too, but overall it’s been a really great start to the weekend.”
“I think I should be thanking you,” he said. “I slept better last night than I have in…months, probably. Not to mention dinner.”
Your face flushed at the mention of how you two had fallen asleep together. It had been unbelievably comfortable—and honestly, it just felt right. You wished you could wake up that way every day, surrounded by his warmth and with his large hands cradling your sides gently. Mike was still looking at you, and you grasped for a response. “I, uh, any time?”
That was the wrong thing to say. Absolutely wrong. Why did you even bother opening your mouth if stuff like this was going to come out of it? Honestly, couldn’t you go more than five minutes without shoving your foot down your throat?
“I mean! The dinner! Or the sleeping if you really need it but that would be weird of me to say except I totally already said it and oh my gosh I just need to shut up.”
You buried your face in your hands. You could feel the heat from your cheeks radiating onto your palms.
“I might have to take you up on that,” Mike said, and you peeked up from your hands. There was a light flush on his cheeks as well, and he wasn’t really looking you in the eye. “On the second account. I think it’s probably my turn to get you dinner.”
You froze, then looked up at him fully. Was he really asking what you thought he was?
“What about it? Just you and me, we can go get dinner sometime.” He looked at you for a second, and then his eyes darted away for a second as you watched the blush spread down his neck.
“Like, as a date?” Your heart pounded in anticipation; your question hung in the air, waiting for his response. You bit the inside of your lip as you waited for his answer.
“Yeah,” he finally said, nodding. “A date.” He looked you in the eyes as he said it, and you could see the sincerity written in them.
You felt a wide smile start to cross your face as you started nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I would love that so much, oh my gosh.”
“Awesome,” he breathed out. “Okay. I’ll call you? And we can set up a time then?”
“That sounds perfect,” you said, still smiling at him, cheeks hurting with how large your grin was. “Or, you know, come over.”
“I forgot I could do that,” he said sheepishly, eyes darting away from yours for a second before returning to meet your gaze. “Yeah. I’ll come over.”
You both stood there, smiling at each other for a while. His brown eyes shone, and you were starting to notice little flecks of green in their depths—but then you spotted the clock behind his head and realized that you were about to be late for a meet-up with your friends.
“Shoot,” you said and pulled away from him as you started looking around for your shoes. “I have to go. I’m gonna be so late—I mean, it’s unbelievably worth it to be late, but still.”
Mike helped you look, and when he found your shoes hidden underneath the couch, he handed them over. You carefully tugged them on and stood up straight as you looked at him again. “I’d better hear from you tonight, Mike Schmidt. I’ve waited way too long for you to ask me out already.”
“Don’t worry,” he said as he guided you to the front door and held it open for you, “I don’t think I could wait any longer either.”
You gave him a giddy grin and took a step outside before halting and pivoting back towards him. “Oh shoot, I totally forgot something.”
“Oh, what?” He asked, and that was when you carefully cradled his cheek in your hand and leaned up to deliver a soft kiss on his cheek. You pulled back after a second to see his bright red face, and that was when you let out a little laugh, a quick “Okay, bye!” and ran to your home.
When you got back inside your house, you saw Mike carefully touch his cheek as he closed his front door, face still red.
You couldn’t wait until later.
(a/n: I love this guy so much oh my gosh he's so cute and such a good brother and AAAAHHHHH!!! Also sorry its been so long since i posted I'm much more active on ao3)