greatamazingfeelingsboy

Entry tags:

au,
michael guerin

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He's not new, not exactly. Caleb's been here maybe a month or two longer than him, but he's the latest new kid to come to the city, so he's still The New Kid. His emotions are always a swirl of hope/boredom/excitement, tinged slightly with a bitter edge, like he's constantly got a bad taste in his mouth, or something. There's more to it, but Caleb can't pinpoint it. He's furtive, distrustful, but it's not an active thing. It's always under the surface, this dark plum purple that's not fear but not suspicion, either.

Wariness, he thinks.

His name is Michael Guerin, and Caleb hates the days he's not in class. His feelings are always so easy to latch onto, because he never has to try. He doesn't stress out. Class is easy for him, but he's going to fail out if he doesn't start participating, which is why Dufresne had suggested him when she'd told Caleb he should look into tutoring.

It's not like Caleb is dumb. He's usually a pretty good student. But he's under eighteen, so he still lives at the Children's Home. He's surrounded by pubescent kids, some of whom don't know how to control their urges, some of whom never fucking sleep, which means Caleb gets, maybe, two hours a night. He goes to school exhausted, has no focus, and has stopped being able to balance the most basic emotions. So his grades are slipping. If they keep slipping, he's going to be kicked off the team, which he really, really doesn't want, so he finds himself outside the auto shop some of the music kids said Michael works at part time, staring at the door like it might swallow him.

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Michael smirks when he sees Caleb, his cheeks flush from the little bit of booze he'd had earlier, and he notices that he's definitely hit the bottle a little more than Michael had, but it's also kind of adorable.

He laughs as they get into the game, waiting for Caleb's turn, biting his lip as he watches him. He's got plans, he does, and he needs to wait for that bottle to spin, his eyes fixed on the bottle as it keeps going around the circle.

Caleb watches it spin, too, feeling dizzy and giddy. He laughs when it's his turn, drinks from his flask, and twirls the bottle. It spins around, round and round, swirly and dizzy like Caleb is, and he giggles as he feels everyone's excitement and anticipation.

Michael's still attentive enough that he's able to focus on the game, his powers carefully attuned, but he waits. He waits, and then, when the bottle starts to slow, he makes sure that it keeps going until it can wobble, and then finally come to a true stop when it's pointed directly at him.

Then, he acts suddenly shocked.

"Wow, would you look at that," he marvels.

"Oh my god," Caleb says. He shakes his head, hand up for a moment as if to wave away smoke. "Fuck, what are the odds?" he asks — almost crows, because he's getting drunker by the second, because everyone else is getting drunker by the second.

But one thing he isn't? Turned off from the idea. He leans forward, a bit wobbly, and balances on one hand as he reaches for Michael with the other.

Michael's grin is smug and endlessly self-serving, because the odds were perfect, when you have powers and you use them for your own purposes. He crooks his fingers to coax Caleb in, having been wondering what it'd be like to kiss him ever since they started study sessions.

And now, this is the perfect opportunity.

He sways onto his knees and cups Caleb's cheeks as he presses forward for that kiss, ignoring the hollers from around them, loving the way he can melt into Caleb's touch the way he does.

Michael's mouth is hotter than his neck had been, that first night Caleb had buried his face in it and slept better than he had since coming to this messed up city. And he tastes good, sharp and musky and like he knows what he's doing. Caleb licks into his mouth, and he's pretty sure he moans, but he can't tell under the whoops rising up around them. Fuck, he tastes good. He feels good.

Michael grabs for Caleb's neck, palming it so he can't slide away until he's thoroughly done kissing him, and he yanks at him, trying to keep him close, parting his lips to deepen it at that moan, knowing that there's no way he can possibly hold back.

Not now, not like this.

Fuck, it's as good as he'd expected, even if he's a little surprised that Caleb doesn't taste like booze, given how tipsy he's been acting all night.

He doesn't want to stop kissing him. He's wanted to do this since barely a week into their tutoring, and now that they've done it, he doesn't want to ever stop.

But he had to, because someone's hands are pushing at his shoulder.

"Yo, guys, get a room if you're gonna make out!" someone says.

"Um, no?" someone else says, "I want to watch!"

Michael's all flustered by the time he eases back, his curls a complete mess, and his cheeks flushed. He rubs a hand over the back of his head, filled with nerves now that he's remembered they have an audience. "I'm kind of thirsty," he admits, because he could use some water after that.

"Do you, uh, do you want to get something?" he asks, eyes brimming with hope as he stares at Caleb.

Caleb nods, eyes trained on Michael's. He's drawn into that sharp, beautiful hope, and it pushes away the rest of the emotions for a moment. Caleb manages to get to his feet, grabbing his flask on the way, and he steps over the circle until he's beside Michael, helping him stand.

"I'm, I'm really thirsty," he agrees, sort of belatedly by this point.

Good, because he's already on his feet, practically leaping up to head towards the drink table, even if all he does is grab at cup so that he can get his water. From there, he's leaning back a little into Caleb's touch, looking at him.

His lips are shiny and pink, and Caleb's don't look much different.

"So, that was..."

Well, it definitely was.

"Yeah," Caleb agrees. He reaches to cup Michael's jaw, and watches his eyes for only a moment before leaning in for another kiss. He keeps it light, at first, in case Michael doesn't want it, but... he's pretty sure he does.

He wants it, but he's also not expecting it, which is why he lets out a surprised little sound when Caleb cups his jaw and leans in, making Michael lean up onto his toes as eagerly as he can, desperate to indulge in the kiss and take as much as possible.

Because damn, it's good.

He eases back, and though he doesn't taste the liquor on him, he's got to ask. "You're not wasted, right?"

Caleb shakes his head. "No." And even if he was, it's not his. Once he's out of range, it'll fade, just like any other emotion does. He lightly nips Michael's lower lip. "You?"

His eyes are closed as he shakes his head, still a little dazed. "Nope." Acetone doesn't count, and he hasn't had that much of it. He's giddy and eager, and loving this. He slides an arm around Caleb's waist, holding tight, and pulling him in.

"I really am thirsty though," he admits, leaning back to fill the cup with water, his eyes flickering down to Caleb's lips. "You want to stick around this party?"

He lets Michael get the water, lets him sip it if he wants, before ducking into another kiss. Then he leans back so he can see him. "Not really," he admits. "D'you wanna... go somewhere?"

Michael laughs at that, staring up at him like he's seeing him anew. "Yeah, this place is dead, right?" he jokes, as if it really is, instead of the loud, happening party they're in the middle of, but he's more than happy to get out of there.

And maybe he gets more of those kisses in the meantime, that would be a nice little perk.

"So dead," he agrees, grinning now. He pulls back, but just enough to gesture to the door. "Where should we go?" he asks. The Home seems promising, but only insofar as most of the kids are here, for this party. They might actually be alone there.

Michael isn't sure, honestly. It's not like he's got anywhere to go, so maybe back to Caleb's? His heart is pounding, racing, because he's thought about doing this, but he hasn't done it with another guy, no matter how much he'd thought about it with Alex.

"Back to yours?" he suggests hopefully, cheeks flushed and bright.

"I'm still at the Home for a little longer," he says. "But the dorm should be empty? Or we can sneak into that room again." He doesn't know — he doesn't care, he just wants to be alone with Michael, kissing him, feeling the beautiful, bright sun that he is.

"I liked that room," Michael admits, because he and Caleb had curled up in that room so nicely, and his heart beats a little faster to think about the two of them on that bed. "Wanna go there?" he suggests, eagerly, his eyes bright with hope.

"Yeah," Caleb says with a nod. "D'you have your truck?" Of course he has his truck. Caleb doesn't even need to ask, but he feels like he should anyway. And when Michael just confirms, they make their way back out through the house and to the truck in question.

There, Caleb stops, and pulls Michael in for another kiss. This one is heated, full of a promise Caleb isn't even sure he knows how to keep, but he damn well means to try. Michael is so warm, inside and out, and Caleb feels like he could melt and sink into him, and they'd just be this warm pool of honey, forever.

Right at that moment, it doesn't seem so bad.

Michael should feel guilty that he doesn't intend to be fully honest, but, "Yeah, always got my truck," he agrees quickly, seeing as he lives in it, so he wouldn't go without it, even if he'd had to lock everything inside it to make sure no one stole anything.

He's outside when Caleb catches him off guard, making his stomach swoop with the suddenness of that kiss, grabbing at him (hips, shoulders, settling in his hair), and whimpering as he practically melts into his body, like he's urging Caleb to take control.

"Outside," he says roughly, which is where his truck is. And also where they are. Look how helpful he's being.

Caleb huffs a laugh against his mouth. It's so easy to want to keep kissing him, because they both just want to keep kissing. Caleb feels like he's starting to loop, feeling Michael, feeling himself through Michael, but that's not possible. He's just still feeling empathy drunk, he's sure.

"Okay," he gasps. "Okay, okay. Let's go." He finally releases him and gently pushes him towards the truck.

Michael lets out a whining little sound when Caleb backs away, not because he's mad, but...okay, he's a little mad there's no more making out. He lets his fingers drag down Caleb's shirt, not used to wanting to kiss someone so much taller, but he tugs now, to pull him towards the truck.

Once he unlocks it, he reaches in to shove everything to the floor, so Caleb can sit. "Sorry about the mess, didn't want anyone to steal my stuff."