You Had Time by Cherry Vanilla

(My Own Private Idaho, Scott/Mike, PG-13)

“You said you needed time, you had time”

I. how can i go home with nothing to say

The next time he sees mike is through the tinted glass of the limousine window. He's leaning against a brick wall, leg bent, trademark pose that screams 'available.' Something in Scott's chest twists and clenches, tight, not letting go until the car starts moving again.

The past year has been worse than life on the streets. At least there, he had a sense of belonging. His father's associates still treat him like street trash and Carmella couldn't adjust to America, much less Scott's unpredictable moods and distance. At the next light, his hand is gripping the handle, ready to jump out and leave this whole life behind. But the light turns green and his old life is feeling more alien with every passing second.

II. I know you're going to look at me that way

He often thinks about the past; it's like the remembrance of a dream that didn't fully belong to him, as if he were watching it from somewhere outside his body. He can barely remember the conversations he'd have with Mike, how they'd talk for hours in the diner or out on the streets, and when a John came they'd simply part ways without a word or backward glance, no awkwardness, no shame.

Things like that he can remember, but nothing concrete. Fragments, like flashes from a camera, of Mike. His scent, his touch, and most prominent -- the night he’d let Mike curl against him beside the fire. He’d stroked his hair, whispered reassurance until he'd been sure Mike had passed out, but he hadn't. His mouth moved against Scott's neck, a series of slow, soft kisses whispered across his skin. Not demanding, not even hoping just -- loving.

He can remember his fingers tightening around Mike's back, his brain screaming at him to pull away, that it wasn't right, wasn't who he was, couldn't use his best friend this way. It turned out he didn't have to. Mike was the one that pulled away, settled back down as if nothing had happened. Scott had felt -- disappointment. Then, shock over what he was feeling. He looked at Mike, took in the wistfulness of his expression -- and leaned down, kissing him unlike he'd ever kissed anyone. Starving, hungry, aching and most of all, sincere. It lasted only a few minutes before they both mutual stopped, the reasons so loud they needn't be spoken, yet it's the strongest memory Scott has, and tries not to think about the implications.

The thing is Scott's been back on the streets for a month now. He just can't figure out how to face Mike.

III. you'll say what did you do out there? what did you decide?

The next time he sees Mike is in an alley. He's been back "home" for five weeks now, not entirely amazed that he's kept from bumping into him till now, as he's done everything in his power to avoid it but still somewhat impressed with himself.

He's passed out on the cold concrete. Scott approaches him slowly, as if in a daze. He looks as innocent as ever. His hair is a little longer, eyes are a little harder, more worn and Scott wants to kill himself for that.

He picks him up easily, struck by how right the weight in his arms feels. He deposits them in front of the fountain, vaguely remembers it being a place of significance. He doesn't sleep, just watches Mike until the sun comes up and wonders what he's going to say.

He's still unprepared when pale eyelids begin to flutter open. Sleep-filled eyes meet his, widening in realization.

"Hey." A hoarse choke.

"Hi," he responds, proud that his voice cracked only a little bit.

"You're ... back?"

He nods. "Few weeks."

A flash of pain and, god, he wishes he hadn't fucking said that.

"Deja vu," Mike says as he looks around, taking in the scene.

"Yeah."

Silence. Horribly awkward.

"You decided then?"

Their eyes meet. "I told you, it was something I had to try."

"And now that you did, that's it, you're back? It's that easy for you? God, you.."

"I missed you."

"..don't care who you hurt -- What?"

"I missed you. This. It's ... home."

Mike visibly falters, anger leaving his face as fast as it came. It isn't a good look for him, anyway, Scott decides.

"You broke my heart." A whisper. Broken.

"I know."

Hard eyes stare at him now, and all he can do is what he was too afraid to years ago. He strokes his face, leans in and kisses him, apologizing with his lips and tongue.

Mike laughs a little when as they break apart. "You're such a dick."

He stands up, pulling Scott with him, as they walk off to start a new day.

[end]