Dave tapped his fingers on the table in front of him as he perused the menu. He was waiting for his best friend to join him at their favorite cheap Italian cafe, a local hole in the wall they'd been visiting since high school. It wasn't like Mike Shinoda to be late to anything - ever - but he'd been more distracted than Dave had ever known him to be lately. He couldn't wait to hear about the new guy that had turned his level headed and always punctual friend's life upside down. This new guy, this Chester, really had to be something for Mike to be so hung up on him already. Dave had gotten some brief details via text message, and a few more in Mike's hasty visit to borrow a shirt last week, but he wanted the full low down. That's what this lunch was all about.

Just as the redhead glanced away from his menu to check his watch again, he caught sight of Mike hurrying in the door of the cafe, his blue streaked hair windblown, his backpack over both shoulders of his open purple flannel shirt. There was a wrinkle of concern between his eyes as he scanned the room, and then his face dissolved into an apology as he spotted Dave in the corner.

"I'm sorry I'm late!" Mike exclaimed as he slid into the low-backed booth across from his friend, shoving his backpack down on the bench next to him. "The mom of my last student kept asking me questions about her progress and practice and I didn't get out the studio on time."

Dave shook his head and handed Mike a menu with a smile. "No worries. I haven't even decided what I want yet. It's good to see you, man." They lapsed into the comfortable silence of long-time buddies as they contemplated their lunch options. After Dave ordered his spaghetti and meatballs, and Mike ordered his baked five cheese ziti, requesting extra Parmesan grated on the top, they passed off the menus and looked at each other.

As the waitress retreated, Mike reached for one of the breadsticks she'd left behind, and asked, "how's school going?" He was curious if Dave was still enjoying college. He'd been thinking about giving it a try more and more lately, but the expense was enough to keep him hesitating, all the while adding more students to try to save up some money.

But college life was not what Dave wanted to talk about. Preparing for finals was draining, and the future math teacher wasn't interested in discussing the ins and outs of Advanced Calculus. He waved his hand in front of him and said, "oh no, you don't. School's fine, but don't try to put me off. I want to hear about this boyfriend you're hiding from me. Tell me everything - including when I get to meet him." He folded his hands on the drab brown table top in front of him and pierced Mike with his green eyes expectantly, watching as his friend's entire body lit up with excitement.

"I don't even know where to start," Mike admitted, his eyes unfocused and far away as he contemplated the last six weeks of his life. Six weeks had passed since he'd met Chester, the best six weeks of his nineteen years. He leaned to the side and reached into his pocket for his phone. "That's him - Chester," he said, holding the older iphone in front of him so Dave could see the lock screen. It was a selfie he and Chester had taken one afternoon on the Santa Monica pier, the ocean in the background and the sun on their faces. He loved the picture because he'd been mesmerized by the image of his boyfriend's wide grin as he took it, completely oblivious to Chester holding two fingers up behind his head. Chester had teased him relentlessly for the rest of the day about how easy it was to distract him, and Mike had been unable to argue. It always felt as though his entire world narrowed to just Chester when they were together.

"He's... not what I expected." Dave's eyes ran over Chester's red mohawk, the plugs in his ears, and the lip ring before he glanced over at Mike with a raised eyebrow. "You've always gone for more the more traditional look."

Mike sipped the water that had appeared with the breadsticks before he responded, "I know... but Chester's just... different. There was something about him from the moment I saw him at Joe's. It was magnetic." There was a disbelieving chuckle and the flash of a grin, and then he went on, "you're right, though, we are total opposites in most ways. Every single time we're together is an adventure. I never know what's going to happen."

"Have you made it back to Joe's karate class with him?" Dave asked, laughing at the look of disgust on Mike's face. It was hard to imagine his friend in a karate class, since he always appeared in his standard uniform of a flannel shirt and jeans. "You got a gi in your closet at home now?"

"God, no. That whole scene wasn't for me. Besides, Chester's got the whole karate thing down. Sometimes he'll show me stuff at his place, saves me from having to be in a room full of sweaty people." Mike shuddered at the thought. "Don't tell Joe that, I don't want him to think Chester's trying to steal his job or anything."

Dave rolled his eyes. "Chester doesn't look like a person who'd be teaching karate. Not that I'm judging him by his appearance," Dave rushed to say. "What's he do, anyway?" Something like confusion slid quickly across Mike's face, and Dave caught the expression, his radar gong on alert.

"He does something with video production, I'm not entirely sure what," Mike admitted, his fingers starting to fidget with the button on the cuff of his left sleeve. "Every time it comes up we end up talking about other things and I get totally distracted. I'm not sure if he's an editor or a camera guy, or what, but whatever his job is, he's doing pretty well for himself. Awesome place down by the ocean and a car that puts mine to shame." Mike looked at Dave and for a moment, he let his doubt shine through. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and it will all have been a dream, that it's too good to be true. This is the longest I've gone out with the same guy, you know. And he's so... perfect."

There was a pause as Mike looked around the busy cafe, gauging how loud he could talk, and he leaned over the table, closer to his friend. "He's everything, Dave. He's smart, he's successful, he makes me laugh... I have so much fun when we're together, it's like I'm someone else. He makes me want to do things, go places, try new things... and," he said, his voice dropping even lower, "he's so fucking hot on top of all of that. I mean... I've never been with anyone like him before. Ever."

There was a secret smile playing across Mike's lips as Dave looked at him curiously. "You sound like you've fallen pretty hard, Mikey. I hope you've done your research on this guy."

With just a moment's hesitation, Mike said, "yeah. I mean, I've been good, taking it slow, like always..."

Dave noticed Mike was picking at his sleeve again, and he prodded, "but?" He watched the piano teacher as his brow furrowed. "Oh my God, Mike. Did you sleep with him?"

Mike's eyes shot up to meet Dave's, his mouth dropping open. "No! Not yet! I mean... I don't know how to explain it. It's not like he's pressuring me or anything, though I did have to really slow things down in the beginning... you know, I've never felt comfortable enough with anyone to go all the way." Mike's voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned across the table closer to Dave again. "But I think... I think this might be it, that he might be the one."

Dave sat back, trying to read his friend's body language. Mike hadn't said anything negative about the guy, but he hadn't said much specific, either, and he had to wonder how well Mike really knew Chester at this point. They had always talked about the guys Mike dated, and those "relationships" had ended quickly when all they wanted from his friend was a quick romp in bed. From the sound of it, Chester had wanted the same thing, so what had made Mike stick it out with this guy, after dumping all the others? "Really? What makes you think that? That he's 'the one'?" Dave wiggled his fingers in the air, making quotations around his last words.

There was another pause, and Mike's whole demeanor changed to something soft, something tender as he spoke. "He's so caring, Dave. At first, I totally admit it, I was so attracted to his body." Mike blushed as he remembered how in awe he'd been the first time he saw Chester. It had been a complete rush of physical attraction, the desire to meet the other man based off nothing but appearance. In the past six weeks, though, that desire had morphed into something else, something deeper for Mike. He loved Chester's laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he cooked and the way his hands felt on every part of his body... and the way he kissed. God, his kisses are amazing. It's like I'm floating on air, or happiness, or... I don't know. I just know that I've never been kissed the way Chester kisses me, ever.

Mike blew out a long breath and looked Dave steadily in the eyes. "He's let me have all the control, physically. At any point I want to stop things, he'll stop... and I can tell it's hard for him, but it doesn't get weird. He's kept coming back, even when I've said I'm not ready for more. Nobody has ever been like that before. Cared about how I feel," Mike clarified. And he didn't drop me when I told him I was a virgin. If anything, it's made him more patient with me, and that just makes him even more amazing. "I... I just think about him all the time. I want to spend every second I can with him. That's huge, right? Isn't that how it's supposed to be?"

Something about the way Mike tiptoed around his physical relationship with Chester didn't settle well in Dave's mind. "How do you know he's not just manipulating you to get what he wants?"

"For six weeks? Who waits around six weeks if they aren't looking for something more, something deeper," Mike countered. "You certainly never have."

"Touche!" Dave sat back, a tentative smile on his face. "I've never had to wait long, the girls just throw themselves at me." Mike rolled his eyes and took another bite out of his breadstick. "Seriously, though, I know what a big deal it is for you to trust someone," Dave said, watching Mike carefully. "I just want to know this guy is worth it. I don't want this mohawked, pierced, movie-producing karate guru to fuck you over. He just looks..." Dave's voice trailed off as the waitress re-appeared, placing a steaming dish in front of each of them. Once she walked away, Dave finished, "he looks a lot more street smart than you, Mike. I don't want you to be taken advantage of... your heart is just too good to be broken like that."

Mike smiled as he picked up his fork. "I promise you, you'll meet Chester, and you'll see. Once you get past the initial bravado, he's so sweet. Genuinely, not because he wants something out of me." He poked into his ziti, gobs of cheese stringing out between his fork and his dish as he brought the first bite to his lips. "Besides, how can I go wrong with someone who loves cheese as much as I do?"

"Okay, okay," Dave gave in as he twirled his spaghetti around his fork. "Just promise me, you'll be careful, you'll be certain, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

As he took the first bite of his lunch, Mike closed his eyes, an image of Chester's face over a plate of cheesy nachos filling his mind. "I've know what I'm doing, Dave, finally. He's perfect, and it's going to be fine. You'll see."

*****

Chester flung the gray and white dish towel over his shoulder as he stood in the kitchen, his butt leaning against the edge of the counter as he looked across his apartment. The sun was on its way down, the last bits of twilight coming through the large windows as Mike sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the television.

Chester smiled as he focused on the back of Mike's head, the way the low light in the living room was giving the man's blue hair a darker shade at the moment. He could see his boyfriend's earrings as they dangled and jiggled everytime Mike moved his head. After dinner, a documentary had caught the younger man's attention, and he hadn't moved from the couch since. Chester didn't mind. Over the last six weeks, he'd gotten used to Mike being around, and the other man's company had become a sort of comfort - a mix of adventure and normality. Chester had never really had anyone to just hang out with at home, someone to spend random time with. Someone to goof around with while still having the perks of making out. Someone who liked to be around, just to be around. But Mike was turning out to be the perfect person to fill that role. I guess this is what being a boyfriend really is. God, it's been so long, I kind of forgot what it's like.

So as Mike watched his documentary about the lifecycle of the Asian Crusted Starfish, Chester used the time to clean up the dinner dishes and to break open a canister of cinnamon rolls, which were now in the oven; they'd be done any minute. The sweet smell of brown sugar and hot cinnamon had already flooded the loft space, and as it did, Chester's mind moved to something else.

He opened the refrigerator and eyed the jug of orange juice he'd picked up on his way home from work. He sat it on the counter just as the stove dinged. He spun around, grabbed his lobster claw oven mitt, and opened the door. His stomach groaned. They smelled so good. He sat them on top of the oven, and turned everything off. They need to cool for a few minutes and then I can ice them.

He glanced up, his eyes bouncing from the back of Mike's head, to the television before he turned and opened one of the white cabinet doors. He studied his collection of glasses - wine glasses, and a set of four shot glasses. He had ones made just for scotch and martinis, and some for champagne. Those will work. He took down two, before he opened another cabinet to retrieve the bottle of tequila his boss had handed him a few hours ago. Now he just had to find the grenadine, which he knew was hiding somewhere in this kitchen, and he could make tequila sunrises to go with their dessert.

"Ches?" Mike called from the couch, his eyes still on the television. "Those cinnamon rolls ready? They smell amazing."

A grin was already stretched across Chester's face. "Almost!" he hollered over his shoulder as he finally found the small red bottle of sweet cherry grenadine. "I still have to ice them," he said as he flipped around and pulled a butter knife from one of the drawers. A tune drifted across his mind, and as he layered the hot treats with their finishing touch, he hummed along and tapped his foot.

The documentary ended and Mike stood up, stretching his arms over his head before he pulled the hem of his shirt down and stepped toward the kitchen, toward the enticing smell of warm cinnamon rolls. He slid behind Chester and watched as he spread icing over the cinnamon rolls, and before he could stop himself, he reached out and dipped his finger into the little tub of icing, daring Chester to complain about it as he lifted the finger to his mouth and tasted it.

"Mmmm, that's so good. Hurry up," he said, smiling playfully at Chester.

"I should ban you from my kitchen," Chester said, narrowing his eyes at his boyfriend, but only for a second. "But I don't think it would work." He watched as Mike made a goofy expression before he pointed at the jug of orange juice and the bottle of alcohol sitting close by. "Look what I got for us. I can make us tequila sunrises to go with dessert."

Mike glanced over and saw the glasses waiting for Chester to fill them. "Tequila? How did you get tequila?" He leaned over and looked at the label. Mike wasn't an expert in alcohol, but the label was fancy and he figured it wasn't a cheap bottle.

Chester walked the champagne flutes to the refrigerator to fill them with ice. "My boss gave it to me today after work."

With a quirked eyebrow, Mike looked back at Chester, skepticism written all over his face. "Why would your boss give you tequila? Doesn't he know how old you are?"

Chester glanced across the kitchen, catching Mike's questioning stare. "Of course he does," he said, ready to change the subject. "He's a nice guy. It's been a hard couple of days is all, and it's just his way of thanking me for being a team player. It's no big deal."

Something in Chester's voice sounded defensive, but Mike dismissed it, picking up the bottle and looking at it. I've never had tequila. But it can't be that much different from having a beer, especially if he's mixing it with something else. Orange juice. I mean, juice is good for you, right? "Well, okay," he agreed, setting down the bottle and picking up the plate of cinnamon rolls. "I'll just take these to the couch while you worry about that. You definitely don't want me trying to make drinks. I'll try to wait for you." He leaned and kissed Chester on the cheek before he disappeared back to the couch to wait for his boyfriend to join him.

Chester watched as Mike ran away with the cinnamon rolls. Gotta hurry this along if I want any of those. He quickly poured equal parts of tequila and orange juice into each glass before he added a bright red stream of grenadine to each, the crimson cloud settling onto the bottom of the glasses, giving them the sunrise look. Chester quickly put the juice back in the refrigerator before he took both glasses to the couch.

"For you, Sexy Boy," he said, handing Mike his drink before he sat down next to him. "Now, hand over one of those rolls."

Mike scooted the plate over toward Chester and took a tentative sip of his drink. It mostly tasted like orange juice, but the alcohol surprised him a little bit, and he tried to cover the cough that followed after he swallowed. "That's pretty good," he managed, his eyes watering a bit. "There's like, cherry in there too?"

"It's grenadine at the bottom," Chester said, tapping his champagne flute, his half-eaten cinnamon roll squeezed between his fingers. He eyed Mike for a minute before he added, "grenadine is just cherry yumminess. It's the same stuff they put in Cherry Coke and Pepsi."

With a nod, Mike took another sip, this one a little bit bigger. It tasted fine, once he got past the tequila. If he'd made it there would be more orange juice and less tequila, but he could drink it. He didn't want Chester to know he was as inexperienced with alcohol as he was everything else. Add this to the list of things Chester just knows about that I don't. Sometimes I wonder what exactly it is that he sees in me.

Mike set the champagne flute down and picked another cinnamon roll off the plate. "I could eat every single one of these," he declared right before he took a huge bite.

"They're good but sticky," Chester whined as he took a large gulp from his glass before he set it on the coffee table. "Gotta wash my hands," he said, flipping his icing smeared fingers through the air before he headed for the bathroom. He could already feel the alcohol crawling through him, his face flushing with heat and his steps a little uneven. He took a deep breath as he washed his hands quickly, glancing at himself in the mirror, double checking that his mohawk was on point, and he didn't have any icing hiding along the corners of his mouth. He dried his hands before he smoothed out the front of his black t-shirt that had a giant blue butterfly on the front of it, his eyes drifting down to his matching socks. He wiggled his toes, making the butterflies on his feet look like they were flying. "Mike!" he hollered as he headed back to the couch. "You gotta see this," he said as he pointed to his feet. "Look! My butterflies are flying!"

With his thumb upside down in his mouth, Mike looked down at Chester's feet and smiled as his licked the frosting off. "You're ridiculous," he teased, sliding a different finger into his mouth and licking that one clean too. He was satisfied he'd gotten all the frosting and reached for his drink. "You need to stop me before I eat another one. I don't need another cinnamon roll."

Chester shrugged his shoulders as he made his way past Mike's legs, swiping the dish of cinnamon rolls as he went. "More for me," he snickered as he sat back down. He pulled one from the tray, before he set them back on the coffee table. "This is probably my limit," he said, making sure he held this one with just his fingertips around the drippy parts of the icing. "They're good, but fucking messy." He downed another gulp from his drink before he looked over at Mike to see his reaction. It had become his worst habit, always needing to know what Mike would say next.

Without realizing it, Mike had finished his drink, and he set the glass on the table, his arms feeling a little heavy. "They're really messy. And you justwashed your hands. What am I going to do with you?" He slid closer to Chester, taking his free hand and holding it in front of his face. "Do I need to inspect you for frosting?"

Chester busted into laughter. "You do what you have to," he said, killing off the last of his drink. "But hang on, I'll get us a refill." He leaned over, placing a sloppy kiss on Mike's face before he got to his feet. His head rushed a little and he had stop to regain his balance before he took both their glasses and the plate of cinnamon rolls to the kitchen. He was back to humming as he re-poured everything. "So, what do you want to do now?" he asked, as he capped the orange juice and put it away before he headed back to the couch.

Mike grinned, feeling a little silly all of a sudden. "I want you to come here," he said, patting the couch next to him. "I'll take that." He swiped the second drink from Chester's hand and took a big sip, looking up at his boyfriend. "You make good drinks." Everything felt warm inside him, and everything seemed a little tilty around him, but Chester looked the same as always. "Come here," he said again, holding out his hand.

Mike's big brown eyes were looking up at him, and Chester took his hand, even as he stayed standing up. "Okay, but hang on. It's hot in here, don't you think?" He pulled away and set his still full glass down on the coffee table before he walked over and shoved one of the windows open, just enough to let the night breeze flow in. It was heavenly as Chester stood there for a moment, letting the fresh, cooler air swirl around him.

He turned back around to see Mike wiggling a finger at him. "I'm coming," Chester chuckled as he made his way back and flopped down beside his boyfriend. "Okay, you got me. Now what?"

Without hesitation, Mike tugged at Chester's shirt. "If you're hot, just take this off," he suggested, giggling at himself. He didn't even wait for Chester to agree with him, and his hands touched over the blue butterfly for a second before he pulled the t-shirt off and flung it to the floor beside the couch. "There. That's so much better," he breathed, leaning close and kissing the little dip in Chester's collarbone, his hands going around his boyfriend's back. "Feel better now?"

"Yeah," Chester answered, even as his pulse quickened. It was the first time Mike had ever taken such a bold move, and Chester was pretty sure it was drunken bravery that was responsible, which was just fine by him. "But now you're overdressed." He let his fingers stray over the white t-shirt that was hiding under Mike's open flannel shirt. "You've got on way too much. I'm not sure how you're not burning up." He was already rubbing one of Mike's nipples through the shirt, feeling the little nub harden. Chester shifted a little closer, licking his tongue over his dry lips.

For just a moment, Mike closed his eyes, but that made the world spin and he giggled, his lips still pressed to Chester's warm skin. "You want me to take off my clothes?" he suggested, giggling again. "I can't dance as well as you do."

He sat back, swaying just a bit even though he was sitting down. "Whoa." It wasn't easy, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt as Chester watched him, laughing as Mike grew frustrated with the buttons. "I don't... I can't... fuck!" he exclaimed, tugging the cuff of the shirt over his hand without unbuttoning it, then pulling his other arm out of the other side, turning the sleeve inside out. "There! See? I can do stuff," he said, looking at Chester very seriously.

"I know you can," Chester snorted. "I think maybe you're drunk," he chuckled as he reached over and cupped Mike's knee. "You're such a lightweight."

"I'm not!" Mike exclaimed, fussing with his t-shirt. "I'm fine. See?" With that, he pulled off his t-shirt and dropped it on the floor, next to Chester's. It didn't even bother him that he was shirtless as he scooted back over to Chester, dropping his face into the curve of Chester's neck and placing little kisses on his shoulder. "I'm fine. You're fine. I'm not drunk."

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that," Chester said, his eyes going a bit wide with a slowed response. "You just took your undershirt off," he said, his hand reaching to smooth over Mike's exposed stomach, his fingertips drinking in the warm, soft skin. "It's, like, a miracle or something," he said with a soft chuckle before he closed his eyes. Mike's lips were still on his neck. "That feels good though." His head went to the side, leaving more room for his boyfriend to take full advantage of the open real estate.

Even though he felt a little dizzy, Mike shifted closer, pressing Chester back into the arm of the couch as he kissed up his neck and across his chin, finally landing on soft, warm lips. He felt Chester's hand skim up his side and into his hair, and Mike snaked his tongue out to trace Chester's bottom lip, toying with his lip ring for a moment before the kiss deepened. The faint sweetness of icing and the slight taste of alcohol was enticing as they kissed, and Mike felt like he was ready for more. He felt just a little bit out of control at the moment, but it was okay. After all, they'd been dating for six weeks now, and it was time to let go just a little bit.

He let his hands trace over Chester's sides as they kissed, feeling along his skin until he met the waistband of his jeans. For just a moment, he pulled away from their kiss, his head spinning, wondering if he should just go for it and get rid of the rest of Chester's clothes. In a flash of bravery, Mike bit his lip and reached for Chester's belt. I'm ready for this. But maybe not right here. Maybe I can make it upstairs.

"Ches?" he murmured, pulling on the end of Chester's belt. "Why don't we move this upstairs?"

Chester was practically on his back, looking up at Mike fiddling unsuccessfully with his belt. His hand went down to meet Mike's, his fingers lingering down to touch the erection that had already been growing under the denim. "Upstairs?" he repeated, his eyes partially closed. "Okay." He went to sit up, pushing Mike back as he did, both their bodies moving in slow motion as they stood up. Chester reached for Mike's hand. "You better let me lead, or your drunk ass will fall down the stairs," he said, repressing the massive grin that wanted to pop off his face before he tugged Mike toward the bedroom staircase.

The floor tilted a bit as Mike took a step behind Chester. "Wait," he said, his other hand going out to grab Chester's arm to steady himself. He took a deep breath and looked at the floor, which seemed to be moving under his feet. "Okay. Go slow."

With Chester's laugh reaching his ears, Mike smiled a bit and let himself be led to the small staircase, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. "Chesterrrr," he drawled, amusement in his voice, "you're so hot. I could just eat you up."

Chester got them to the top of the steps before he glanced over his shoulder. "You can eat any part of me you want, Sexy Boy," he said, flashing a smile before he pulled Mike all the way to the edge of the bed. His arms wrapped around the other man's neck, their lips connecting immediately. Chester's brain was on its way to autopilot as he let his eyes sink closed. He pushed his tongue into Mike's mouth. The wet, hot sensation was welcomed as he pressed his hips forward.

The combination of desire and alcohol had completely eliminated any reservations Mike still had about sex with Chester. Everything in his body was screaming at him to go for it, whatever 'it' was going to be. Mike slid his hands down Chester's back and grabbed on to his ass with both hands, pulling their bodies together even harder than Chester had, moaning into their kiss as he felt his hard dick come into contact with Chester's. There were too many layers between them, he decided somewhere in his mind, and it was time to take care of that.

He pulled away from their kiss, dropping unsteadily to his knees in front of Chester and reaching for his belt again. This time he was going to get it off, there was no stopping him. Mike's fingers were uncoordinated, a little bit numb, and he fumbled with the buckle for a moment before he got it undone, smiling up at Chester proudly. "Look at what I can do." Before Chester could answer, he pulled on the button on his jeans, popping them open and sliding the zipper down. That was much easier than that damn belt, he thought, wiggling the jeans down just enough to lean forward and press a kiss to the blue butterflies that were covering Chester's erection.

Chester's hands were in Mike's hair, teasing every strand as he let the other man yank his jeans down. His head went back the moment he felt Mike's lips touch his sensitive area. Even though sex wasn't something they'd managed yet in their six weeks of dating, blow jobs had become a regular activity between them, and Mike was good at them. He'd managed to decipher the code to Chester's pleasure, and as Mike kissed all over the front of Chester's black and blue underwear, he could already feel himself growing wet with pre-cum. "Mike," he half-said and half-moaned, "let me get out of these jeans."

Mike dragged his hands down the front of Chester's thighs slowly before he sat back on his heels, rocking slightly for a moment before he fell backwards onto his ass. With his arms out to the sides to steady himself, Mike laughed as he watched Chester from the floor.

"Your goofy ass is soooo drunk," Chester chuckled as he tried to get out of his jeans, his balance off and bam! he hit the floor. He broke into laughter as he sat next to Mike. "Maybe I am, too," he offered before he leaned forward and wrestled with the legs of his jeans that just didn't want to let him go. He tugged at them as Mike sat close, snorting like a pig as he watched. "Go ahead," Chester said, finally getting both legs free. "I want to see you do better," he teased as he carefully stood himself up. He reached down, and Mike took his hand, and now they were on their feet. "I'm going to be over here, waiting," Chester said as he pointed toward the bed. He smacked Mike on the ass before he crawled onto the bed, his head a little light as he laid down on his back.

"I've got this," Mike said with drunken confidence, smirking at Chester as he went for his belt. It only took him a few tries to get it unbuckled, then another attempt or two with the button and zipper of his jeans before he slid them down, wiggling his hips side to side as Chester watched him from the bed. "Oops," he giggled, catching himself with one hand on the side of the bed as he stumbled forward, trying to get his leg out of his jeans. "I've got this," he repeated, trying to balance himself and get naked at the same time.

It wasn't easy but he eventually freed himself from the offending denim and crawled up on to the bed, right to where Chester was waiting in the center. God, he's so fuckin' hot. I want everything, everything with him. I'm ready. Their eyes met as he slid one knee over Chester's body and settled himself down, tracing his fingertips over Chester's stomach as he straddled him. He could feel the heat and the anticipation flowing off Chester in waves.

Chester's hands went right to Mike's thighs. He slid them up toward the waistband of the other man's boxer briefs. He bucked his hips, sending an extra jolt of pressure between their covered erections. "I guess you did okay with that," he said, his eyes partly closed as he smiled. "I didn't time you or anything, but I think you might have been faster than me."

"Maybe," Mike agreed, stretching his legs behind him as he lowered himself down, letting his entire body drape over Chester's and taking the opportunity to return the favor of pressing his hips down, shuddering at the contact. Everything about the moment felt right. Chester's hands, which had moved up to rub circles on his back. The intoxicating smell of Chester's body wash combined with the lingering cinnamon scent from downstairs. The warmth and length of their bodies pressed together, and the satisfied little sounds coming from Chester's lips as Mike kissed across his chest. Mike slid his hands up, cupping Chester's face as he balanced carefully on his elbows, and dropped his lips down to steal another long kiss from his boyfriend.

Chester sucked in Mike's kiss, and as his body tingled for more, he opened his legs. He spread them apart, allowing Mike to fit right in between. Now their cocks were lined up slightly differently. Chester sent his hands down, reaching for as much of Mike's ass as he could get to as they rocked back and forth. The heat of the moment - the panting and the long kiss that was now quick kisses switched back and forth - was escalating. Chester's dick was screaming for air - screaming to be let out of the confines of his underwear, and as Mike continually pressed into him over and over again, Chester's foggy mind tried to process what was next. This wasn't the normal way they got to blow jobs or even hand jobs. This was more, and it felt good.

With every bit of courage he had, Mike moved his kisses down Chester's jaw, landing right at his ear, taking a moment to nibble the delicate lobe before he breathed into Chester's ear, "I'm ready, Ches. I want you." He held his breath, waiting, his mind still spinning, maybe from the alcohol or maybe from anticipation, he wasn't sure which.

Chester's eyes rolled opened, his slightly blurry gaze hitting the spinning ceiling fan overhead. "Ready?" he whispered, his body suddenly feeling a different kind of stiffness. After weeks of dating Mike Shinoda, Chester had figured out that he didn't always read the right meaning into what his boyfriend said sometimes. "Ready, like. . .?"

"Ready. I'm ready, I want more. I want you to show me... I'm ready for us to have sex," he managed to say, as directly as he could say it, leaving no room for Chester to interpret what he wanted. It was black and white, as clear as he could make it. Mike raised up on his elbows for a moment, catching Chester's gaze.

"Mike," Chester started, his mind and his penis in a knockout fight as he spun his words together, "you're pretty drunk. I, I mean, this might not be right. Not that I don't want to," he added quickly as he brought his hands from Mike's ass and back up to his sides, massaging the other man's ribs gently. "God, you feel so good," he mumbled without his good senses permission. That wasn't going to help anything.

A little bit of confusion settled over Mike as he watched Chester struggle with his words. "I'm not so drunk that I don't know I want this. I've been thinking about it, not just tonight. I know I'm ready," he stated again, his bottom lip poking out just a bit as he frowned slightly.

Chester had to look away from him. If he stared up into that face - Mike's adorable face and puppy dog eyes - he'd cave. He'd let something happen that couldn't happen right now. If this went any further, things were going to get complicated, and there wasn't room for that while his boyfriend was drunk and offering up his virginity.

Chester dropped his hands to Mike's arms. "Let's sit up," he said, keeping his eyes averted.

Mike's heart dropped a little bit, allowing himself to be moved to the side as Chester sat up. It just wasn't in him to sit up at the moment, and he rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in Chester's sheets. He's telling me no. I'm not that drunk. I don't think.

Chester looked down at himself, at his wilting cock and the sick feeling that was following it. "Mike," he said as he turned to see his boyfriend looking crushed. Dammit. Fuck! "Mike," he said again, keeping his voice light as he reached over and put his hand on the other man's lower back. "I'm not saying we can't. Just not tonight. If we do this now, it won't be good."

With his face still in the sheets, Mike said again, "but... I'm not drunk. I promise." Except that he was, and now that his face was connected to the soft flannel of Chester's bedsheets, he suddenly felt very sleepy. He turned his face, rubbing his cheek along with flannel and looked over at Chester. "Don't you want me?"

"Oh, god, yes," Chester said immediately, his tongue acting on instinct. "I do," he whispered, his fingers feathering back and forth over Mike's skin. "But. . .this can't be how we do this the first time," he stated with a swallow. His eyes drifted down his boyfriend's body, and he hated this. He hated himself for putting them in this position and before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed Mike's side. And then over to his spine. The impulse to crawl on top of Mike and push everything forward was full-on powerful. He could already feel his lower parts warming back up, his limp erection twitching as he leaned even further over Mike's body.

He rubbed his nose into Mike's back, and then reality flashed across his mind. What am I doing? I'm screwing this up even more. Chester stopped his lips millimeters from Mike's flushed skin before he sat back, and then he stood up from the bed. "You know, we've both had a lot to drink," he said, sucking in as much air as he could get. "We need to sleep it off and we can talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

Mike had enjoyed the gentle kisses on his back, and even though his body ached for more, his heart ached for more, he just nodded into the sheets, his eyes screwed shut. "Okay," he mumbled, his voice already giving over to the alcohol induced sleepiness. He wanted Chester to stay but he wasn't going to ask for anything else tonight. He couldn't take any more rejection.

Chester's face was long, his lips drooped as he watched the damage he'd created. "Mike, I. . ." but he stopped himself. There was no use saying anything else. His body slumped. Even though he wasn't completely intoxicated, he'd had enough to feel the effects of the alcohol, and his body wanted to sleep. The excitement was gone. The sexy atmosphere of the night vanished. He went to lay down, to pull Mike into his arms, but he stopped. I'm weak. I'm the weak one. Chester looked away from his sleeping partner as he scooted around the bed and made his way down the stairs.

****

When Chester opened his eyes hours later, the morning sun was blaring through his living room windows. "Noooo," Chester mumbled as he covered his eyes with his arm. He laid for a moment, cursing the morning, his other hand lazily scratching his side. A minute passed before Chester dropped his arm and his eyes eased open, fighting the sunlight before he sat up. He looked down at himself - his mind trying to calculate why he was on the couch in his butterfly decorated socks and matching underwear. He looked around the space, his memory slowly catching up. Mike. He looked up, his eyes squinting as he searched the platform of his bedroom. He thought about yelling for the other man, but decided against that quickly as he rubbed his head. That's right. I hope he's all right.

Chester stood up, his stomach not feeling the best. He scanned the floor and spotted his and Mike's shirts. He stepped over both of them and headed for the bathroom. First things first. He quickly relieved himself and after splashing water on his face, he couldn't wait anymore. He headed up the steps to the bedroom. I really fucked up last night. He's going to hate me. Or. . .Mike doesn't hate anyone or anything. He's just going to be sad. I made him sad. Chester's eyes dropped as he stepped into the bedroom, and it took him a minute before he looked up to see Mike.

His boyfriend was flat on his back, his chest lifting and falling gently as he slept. He was still in his socks and dark purple underwear. Chester felt the corners of his lips tug upward. He's so damn cute. He walked over to the bed and sat down. He reached to shake Mike's leg. "Hey," he called, lowly, before he said, "Mike? Hey, wake up."

Mike felt the hand on his leg, the gentle shake, but he wasn't ready to face the day. There was a little army of men with jackhammers residing inside his head, pounding away relentlessly, and waking up meant he had to deal with that. They weren't bothering him while he was asleep. He mumbled something incoherent and covered his eyes with his arm, frowning as he moved. He also wasn't ready to face Chester. The memories of last night were a little bit fuzzy, but he clearly remembered the sickening feeling of rejection.

"Mike, it's morning," Chester said, keeping his hand on the other man's leg. "You should get up. No better cure for a hangover than kicking its ass with movement." He smiled, even though Mike wasn't looking at him, and the gesture dropped from Chester's face almost as quickly as it had come. "And, we need to talk about last night," he added, his eyes falling to the red and black flannel bed coverings. "I'm. . .I'm sorry, about how it went." He swallowed hard, hoping that his boyfriend would speak up and say something. Nothing was worse than silence. He would rather Mike yell at him, then to lay there and say nothing. But he'd never heard Mike yell before, and Chester was pretty sure there'd be no yelling this morning, either.

"I don't want to talk about it," Mike said quietly, his arm still over his eyes. He had a splitting headache, and sorry didn't feel like enough at the moment. What does he want me to say? I don't have anything to say, I just don't get him. I wasn't that drunk. Well, okay, maybe I was, I guess that's why my head hurts. Maybe that's why he said no. Maybe that's the only reason. "Unless you want to tell me why?" If he could have kicked himself for how tiny and pathetic his voice sounded right then, he would have. "Why did you say no?"

Chester took his hand back. He folded both of them in his lap now. "I had too much to drink and you really had too much," he said. He waited a moment, hoping maybe that would be enough, but all that came was silence. "I've been in situations like that before," he added, even though he wasn't sure how much it would help. "People give their permission and then they freak out in the morning. And, besides, this is more than that. It's your first time, and I didn't want it to be a botch job because we were tipsy. I didn't want to have to -" He clamped his mouth shut and rolled his lips together for a second. "I mean, the timing was just bad. I wasn't saying no because I didn't want to."

Mike finally uncovered his eyes, looking at Chester on the edge of the bed. "I'm not drunk now," he said, his hand inching toward Chester, "so I want to tell you something." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a minute, wishing he could have a couple of Advil. "I am ready, Ches. I want you to know that. Totally sober, in the light of day, I want you to know that I want it to be you. I want my first time to be with you."

With his hand outstretched and his eyes closed, Mike waited for Chester's response. He hoped he wasn't wrong about Chester, about the connection he felt and the desire he had to make that connection deeper. He'd dated some guys, but none of them had stirred his soul the way Chester had. Now he needed to know if he'd made that same impact on his boyfriend, or if Chester was going to tell him no again.

Chester looked over, his focus washing over Mike's face, and a sigh of relief followed. He nodded, and then he realized that didn't do anyone any good. He ducked his eyes as he took Mike's hand. "I want you to be sure," he said, even as he squeezed his fingers around Mike's, "because it's not something you can re-do. And, well, honestly, I never thought we'd get this far. And maybe I was a bit freaked last night. I want it to be good. More than good," he corrected. "I want it to be memorable and not on a list of mistakes. I don't want to be a mistake."

Mike finally sat up, his hand still in Chester's, wincing as his body adjusted to being vertical. "I hope this doesn't freak you out more, but... I know this is what I want. You are what I want. I feel safe with you." He bit his lip, suddenly aware that he was wearing none of the protective layers of clothing that usually covered him when he was feeling emotional. "I don't know how to explain it, but I feel like we're both invested in this now. And I trust you. Believe me when I tell you I'm sure. Just... not right now." He looked at Chester, smiling just a bit. "I have a raging headache and I don't think now would be any better than last night."

"Not now is good," Chester agreed as he raised Mike's hand and kissed it. "I'm sure you're not up for breakfast, but how about coffee?"

"Coffee, fuck that sounds good," Mike said. "And some Advil."

Chester stood up, his body aching as he yawned. He spotted his and Mike's jeans tangled together on the floor. He scooped them both up and pulled them apart. "And just so you know, Sexy Boy," he said with a chuckle, "I totally kicked your ass at undressing faster than you last night." He chucked Mike's pants at him before he carefully stepped into his jeans and pulled them up.

"Whatever." Mike smiled, the mood of the whole morning lifting as he slung his legs over the side of the bed and pulled his jeans on. "You got me drunk. I could beat you sober any day."

Chester rolled his eyes. "I got you drunk?" he said, his fingers pressed to his naked chest. "You got you drunk," he emphasized before he headed for the stairs. "And now you need to bring your hungover ass on so we can get some coffee."

"Don't forget my Advil," Mike called after him, running his hands through his tousled blue hair before following in his boyfriend's footsteps.