Work Text:
It was a hot day. One of those days where the air seemed to suck the sound out of the air, appearing denser than usual, so that even cars seemed to drive more slowly, people moved sluggishly, birds only took flight sparingly. It was a Utah summer day, for sure. Lawn-sprinklers were shut off, suburbian gardeners admitting Mother Nature’s victory, as any water they spread out onto the yellowed grass would evaporate within minutes anyway. The ice cream truck’s song echoed down the streets, children darting out of the safety of their air-conditioned homes with coins in hand for only a few minutes before they’d return to sit on a shaded porch and enjoy their icy treats.
It was a hot day and there was no school, so Evan was supremely bored.
He couldn’t go out to play with his friends because he had no friends except his sister Lizzie. And since his dad was out working, he couldn’t go anywhere fun—there was absolutely no way he was walking in this weather. He’d probably melt into a puddle and disappear down a drain if that thermometer ticked up even one degree higher. No, William had taken the car so even if Mike felt like driving him to the arcade, he couldn’t. And William had forbidden him from taking the city bus alone — he said there were “bad men” out there who’d want to “take” him or Elizabeth if either were left unattended. He said he was one to know. Evan had shrugged it off at the time, although Michael had looked mortified.
“Miiike,” Evan whined, pattering into the living room. Michael was sprawled on the couch watching TV, his limbs spread in one last-bid effort to cool down. He lazily tilted his head back to glance at his younger brother before returning his attention to whatever show he was watching. “Can I come sit with you?”
“Hm, I don’t know. This show is pretty violent. I don’t think you’d wanna watch it. And I don’t want you bugging me right now.”
“But I’m bored. I promise I won’t talk or anything, I’ll just sit here quietly and watch with you. Is that okay?”
Michael stared at the scene playing across the screen before he sighed, said “Whatever,” and moved a pillow to leave space for Evan to sit beside him. Evan jogged around the couch to jump onto the cushion, but when he scooted closer to Michael his older brother pushed him away, scrunching his nose with distaste. “Come on, man, it’s too hot to cuddle. You sit on that end of the couch, I sit here, we don’t touch at all and if neither of us end up with a heat stroke by the end of this episode, well, that’ll be a miracle.”
“Do you want me to get us some ice cream?”
“I don’t have money for that.”
“Not even allowance money?”
“I’m saving that for a bike.”
“Don’t you already have one?”
Mike rolled his eyes and reached over to shove Evan playfully. “I meant a motorbike, moron. A fast one.”
“Oh. Those are cool.” Evan smiled. “Would you take me or Lizzie on rides?”
“That’d be really lame.”
Evan frowned.
“…But maybe, if you promise not to be lame and fall off or something stupid like that, I could take you and Liz on a ride.”
Evan’s face lit up. “I can’t wait.”
Although the fan was on full blast, the heat still crept up on them. It soaked into the mind, made thoughts foggy, fuzzy, warm. The show was something about gangsters and spies that Michael had taped when it first aired, but Evan hadn’t caught the first half and he had absolutely no idea what was going on. The heat wasn’t making it easy to think, either. He vaguely listened as some mob boss threatened the protagonist (thankfully the scene wasn’t too scary), but his attention was mostly on Michael.
Michael, his awesome older brother who was going to buy a motorcycle, who for some reason didn’t like Evan too much. The boy wished he could just get Mike’s approval for something. He knew he was an annoying younger brother, but he tried to be good, he really did.
One of the characters fired a gun, and Evan jumped, scooting closer to Mike on instinct.
“Get off me,” Mike grumbled, fumbling to push Evan’s weight off him. “It’s too hot.”
“I can go get us some water,” Evan offered, backing away and trying not to sulk. He didn’t like that Michael kept pushing him away. “I’ll get some ice, too.”
“Sure,” Mike said, with barely a flicker of a glance in his little brother’s direction.
Shoulders slumped, Evan slid off the couch, landed lightly on the carpeted floor, wandered off to the kitchen. He gathered two glasses, filled them with water and ice, then padded back to the living room to slide into his seat next to his older brother. “Here,” he said, holding a glass out in offer.
Michael took it, gratefully lifting the glass to his lips to take a long sip. For some reason, Evan just… watched. He watched the way Michael’s pharynx bobbed as he drank the water, he watched the way his hand gripped the glass, and he was still staring when Michael lowered the glass and noticed, finally, that Evan was staring. His brow furrowed. He made an inquisitive gesture, like what’s your problem, you little weirdo?
Bashful, Evan glanced away, drumming his fingers on his own glass of water. He nervously took a sip, and the freshness was immediately relieving on his throat. “Sorry.”
Mike shrugged and returned to watching the taped episode. But Evan was fixated by the play of light across Michael's skin. You could see the muscles developing under his tan skin, the way the teen's chest rose and fell with each breath almost enchanting. How was Michael this cool, this effortlessly? He was just sitting there doing nothing and Evan was starry-eyed.
Yeah, Michael could be scary sometimes, and he could be mean, but in moments like this? When they were just hanging out together like a normal family? It… made Evan feel things he didn't quite have the name for. Like butterflies, but not the bad kind. Like fuzzy comfort, almost like safety. He wanted to lean against Michael's arm, rest his head on that chest so he could listen to every breath and hear the beat of his older brother's heart, but he knew he'd probably be pushed away again, so he didn't try. He'd look instead. He'd look and wouldn't have.
“Seriously, what’s up with you?” Michael asked, sitting up straight to fix Evan with a bemused look. “What’s up with all the staring? Do you have something to say?”
Evan shrank back. “Um, n-no.”
Michael looked at him for a few seconds more, attention off that TV at last, before he sighed, rolled his eyes, and reached for his little brother. “Come here,” he grumbled, wrapping his arm around Evan’s shoulder and drawing him into a half-embrace. If Evan kept looking at him with those big puppy-dog eyes any second longer, he’d… well, he didn’t know what he’d do. Evan seemed happy enough nestled against his chest, his cheeks a flustered red. “If I die of heat stroke it’s gonna be my ghost you’ll be seeing in your stupid nightmares.”
Setting the almost empty glass of water aside, Michael reached over to run his hand through Evan’s fluffy hair. Fingertips lightly scratched the skull, Michael’s hand disrupting the hair, petting it back into place, then messing it up again. A shiver went down Evan’s spine, goose-bumps raising along his arms. He tried to calm down, but his heart wouldn’t slow as they sat on the couch together and failed to watch the TV together.
“Mike,” Evan said, unsure where he was going with this. His thoughts felt foggy.
“Yeah?”
“I’m tired.”
“Sleep if you want,” Michael offered.
Wow, he must be feeling particularly generous today. A tiny smile pulled at Evan’s lips, and he dropped his head back down to Michael’s chest. He listened to the breaths, the heart beat, the various sounds of his older brother’s warm, living body. “Your heart’s beating fast,” Evan noted.
Michael swallowed saliva, and Evan heard this too. “Uh… guess so.” He didn't say anything else, just continued petting Evan’s hair. The protagonist on the screen flirted with the pretty female co-star. Michael’s hand wandered down to Evan’s shoulder, caressing his arm slowly and gently.
Evan shut his eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. His mind was racing. His body felt strange. When Michael stopped petting him, he shifted to capture Michael’s hand, cracking open an eyelid to catch Michael watching him, not the television. “No, don’t stop,” Evan whined. “It feels nice.”
“I’m so sorry, your majesty, I’ll get right back to that,” Michael responded sarcastically, but he did keep petting Evan. “Man, you’re so needy.”
Evan frowned against Michael’s chest, listening to that fast heart beat. He hoped Michael wasn’t about to grow tired of this and push him off and be mean again. He hated it when Michael was mean.
They remained in silence for a while, listening to the end credits song play on the tape recording before it skipped over to the next episode. Evan’s exhales were soft on Michael’s chest; he shifted occasionally, as if growing uncomfortable, before he abruptly spoke up again. “Do you ever have strange feelings?”
“What?”
Evan’s cheeks burned a brighter red, one of his hands scrunching up the fabric of Michael’s shirt. “Like um, in your… in your stomach. And deeper.”
“Uhh,” Michael said, tilting his head to consider Evan, and Evan’s flustered expression, and what Evan was implying. “…Shit.”
Evan flinched minutely at the usage of that expletive, too used to their father using such language when he was violently angry. (Not that William had ever raised a hand on Evan or Elizabeth, but both of the youngest Aftons had heard what William did to Michael behind closed doors. And they’d seen the bruises.)
But when Evan tried to pull away, Michael hushed him, reassurances spilling quickly. “No no, Evan, I’m not mad at you. It’s all good. You don’t need to go.” He ran the pad of his thumb in calming circles on Evan’s wrist, holding his little brother there on that couch. He hesitated, as if nervous about something, before asking what Evan meant by that.
“I don’t know,” Evan whispered.
“Here?” Michael poked at Evan’s stomach. “Or maybe here?” Here he brushed over the belly button, causing Evan to giggle reflexively. “Or lower…?”
Evan’s voice caught in his throat. His eyes were so wide as he watched Michael touch him. “Th-there,” he whispered.
Michael paused, his breath coming in a bit more shallow. “Yeah, I get that too sometimes. It’s normal.” He was quiet for another moment. “If you’re getting these feelings, then… Evan, don’t tell Father about this. Okay? Just don’t tell him. I’m serious.”
“What? Why? Is it bad?”
“No, but you still shouldn’t tell him. If you have questions, come to me. Ask me. I’ll help you figure this stuff out.”
Evan read the deadly seriousness in Michael’s eyes, and nodded. “Okay, Mike. But… can you… can you help me right now?” He moved closer, almost onto Michael’s lap.
Michael dragged a palm down his face. “No,” His voice was muffled by his hands. “No, Evan, I shouldn’t...”
“But I want to.”
“You don’t know what you want.”
“Pleeaase.” There were those puppy eyes again. “You never want to spend time with me anymore unless you’re being mean and scary!”
Michael’s brow furrowed. He wanted to shout that Evan already got enough loving attention from their father and even Henry Emily when that scruffy engineer visited, but he knew Evan was insecure about these things. He was being bullied by his peers—none of the kids his age liked him—and maybe, Michael had to admit he’d been too harsh recently. Like right now. Evan’s lips pulled into a pout, his eyes watery, withdrawing into himself.
“Oh, no, Evan, don’t cry,” Michael said hurriedly, catching Evan before the boy could throw himself off the couch and go have a tantrum somewhere else. “Come here. I’m sorry.”
Evan let himself be pulled into Michael’s arms, even though it was so hot and they were both sweaty and uncomfortable. He took deep breaths till the ugly feeling trying to claw its way up his throat retreated, and tears stopped threatening to fall from his big brown eyes. “Do you love me?” he mumbled.
“Yeah, of course, you doofus.” Michael combed Evan’s hair again, holding him tight. “You’re an annoying little shit, maybe, but I still love you.” He brushed hair out of Evan’s forehead, then pressed a kiss to the warm skin.
And when Evan shifted to get more comfortable, his legs spread around Michael’s waist, the eldest didn’t stop him. He let Evan bury his face in his neck and held him there, hugged him tight.
“I love you,” Michael repeated. “I’m sorry you thought otherwise.”
Evan sniffled, lifted his head, and their faces were so close. So close. But Michael wasn’t pushing him away, so Evan took that as a good sign. When he leaned forward to give Michael a kiss of his own, a chaste one on Michael’s cheek, he wasn’t pushed away. So he grew bolder.
“I think I have a crush on you,” Evan admitted. The words seemed to be torn from his lungs, he couldn’t stop them.
Michael’s expression tightened, but he didn’t push Evan away. He held Evan’s hand, gently rubbed his thumb along the boy’s palm. “Well, you can’t tell anyone about that,” he said.
“Why do you sound sad?”
“It’s alright, don’t worry about it. I’m not sad. Just don’t tell anyone.”
Evan reached up to cup Michael’s cheek, mimicking intimate behavior he’d seen in the past. “Because it’s supposed to be secret?”
“Yeah.” Michael rested his palm on Evan’s hip, a slow caress. “Something to keep between us.”