Work Text:
Jeremy was brilliant, Michael could tell. He took the crowd by storm, with his dark skin and curly blonde hair. He was like a god on stage, the lights shining on him as he sang. Michael had the privilege of seeing it backstage. He got to truly take in Jeremy’s beauty.
He wanted to keep this secret of Jeremy to himself. Being able to see the sweat drip down his skin, each twitch of his Adam's apple, each small proud grin that snuck its way onto Jeremy’s lips. Michael knew every little quirk and kept them committed to memory.
By the time Jeremy gets off stage, Michael is still mesmerized. “You did well,” he says, managing not to stutter as Jeremy gulps down water. He can still hear the roaring crowd behind them, and peaks around the curtains. He spots his little siblings in the crowd, and waves. They beam at him and wave back.
Jeremy smiles, and that becomes the most important thing in the room as Michael scribbles down doodles onto his clipboard. “The audio got a bit glitchy at one bit, did you notice?” Jeremy sings in a perfect English accent, but as soon as he gets off stage the Australian accent pops and it never fails to catch Michael off guard.
“Uh yes, I’ll check with sound about that,” Michael says, jotting down a little note. There were probably plenty of mistakes that’d he’d missed because all of his attention had been on Jeremy.
“Great! God, I could use a shower…” Michael nodded. No matter how close he was to Jeremy, being his personal assistant, he still felt incredibly awkward around him.
“I could arrange something at the hotel, if you pleased,”
“That’d be lovely. Thanks Mike, you’re the best, as always!” Michael flushed and agreed half-heartedly. He followed Jeremy to his room at the venue, waiting outside as he gathered his stuff. He tapped hurriedly at his phone to order a cab, when his little siblings showed up with backstage passes.
Normally, Michael wouldn’t mind his siblings attending the concerts he worked at, but when his eighteen-year-old sister is holding a massive poster of his boss, it gets pretty embarrassing. “You need to put that away,” Michael grits out, and Evan, the little traitor, just laughs and pushes her out of Michael’s grasp.
“No way!” Elizabeth whines, holding the poster protectively to her chest, “I need him to sign it!”
“I cannot let you do that!” Michael hisses, making another attempt to snatch it from her.
“Aww, Lizzy, I think Mike’s embarrassed,” Evan teases, leaning against Michael. Begrudgingly, Michael will admit Evan is taller than him despite being two years younger. And Elizabeth was pretty tall too, almost as tall as Michael.
“There’s no need for all that,” Jeremy announces, leaning against the doorframe. Michael spins around so quickly his head hurts for a moment, and his eye-twitches. Jeremy has that smug look on his face, as he uncaps a sharpie. Elizabeth squeals and hurriedly runs over to him as Michael groans.
“This has got to be violating some sort of professional protocol,” Michael complains, as Elizabeth takes a selfie with Jeremy. “I could like…be fired or something.”
“Nah,” Jeremy says easily, posing once more, “I’m too nice to fire you.”
Evan snickers, and nudges Michael’s shoulder. The eldest places his head against his clipboard, and as he’s about to complain once more, his phone goes signaling that the cab was here.
“Jeremy, the car is here, we can leave now.”
Elizabeth pouts, and glares at Michael like it’s his fault. Jeremy just nods and shuts the door with a click. Evan places a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder before giving Michael a half-hug. Michael hears Evan gently explaining to his whiny little sister why they needed to go.
The car is silent, other than Jeremy’s soft sighs of relief every now and then as he tries to catch his breath. He’s always pretty quiet after a show. Michael doesn’t take it to heart. He’s been Jeremy’s assistant since his days as one of the backup singers for the Glamrocks, he knows him fairly well.
“Is that gala tonight or tomorrow night?” Jeremy asks, scrolling through his phone. His eyebrows are furrowed like he was genuinely trying to remember.
“Tomorrow night,” Michael says softly, “you can rest once you shower.”
Jeremy’s shoulders relax at that, and surprisingly he asks, “Are you free tonight?”
Taken aback, Michael stutters to answer, “Uh…yeah. I was just going to handle some paperwork in my room,” it’s the truth, because his email was filled and needed some clearing out. And there were definitely some contracts he needed to sign for Jeremy’s next tour.
The popstar hums in consideration, before looking over to Michael. Green eyes take him in. He’s also rather sweaty from the heat backstage, but he is still dressed properly. Jeremy once told him he dressed like a grandpa.
“Freshen up in your room and then head over. I would like to have some company. You can still do paperwork with background noise, right?”
With wide-eyes Michael nods, fiddling with his pen. Jeremy smiles, bright, unlike the one he’d used when taking photos with Elizabeth. Michael’s heart does a funny little flip in his chest, and his own dopey grin grows on his face. He prays Jeremy can’t see his blush.
When they part ways, Michael panics. If asked, he’d say it was reasonable, but he knows very well it was not. He’d spent time in Jeremy’s hotel rooms before, of course, but never because he was asked personally. His heart pounded in his chest as he blow-dried his hair. He threw on a simple pair of bleached jeans and a loose band t-shirt from when he was younger. Michael thinks Jeremy would’ve preferred the way he dressed when he was fifteen.
...
What was Michael doing? Acting like some kind of schoolgirl with a crush?
Snatching his sweater, he shrugged it on over the t-shirt, and grabbed his satchel filled with work stuff. He worked up the courage to knock on Jeremy’s door after standing outside the room for a good three minutes. A muffled, “come in!” was heard, and Michael did as told.
Slipping off his shoes, he heard some noises from the bathroom before Jeremy emerged, a towel thrown around his waist. He grinned at Michael as the twenty-seven year old looked away, shielding his eyes with his hands. “Do you have any shame?” he asked, trying not to imagine the image.
“Eh, not really,” Jeremy retorted, and Michael rolled his eyes.
“Get dressed, I’m not sitting here with you if you’re going to be naked.”
“Ay, I get it, I get it.”
Michael walked further into the room, Jeremy following close behind so he could grab some clothes. Michael found a good chair to sit in, and pulled out his laptop so he could start going through his email. Over two hundred were unread and google was bitching at him to clear it. Huffing, Michael got to work.
“Which shirt do you prefer?”
Looking up, Michael found Jeremy, in some sweats, holding up two pairs of shirts. One had some Garfield pun on it, and the other was a plain gray t-shirt with little dinosaurs on it. Blinking, Michael shrugged. Jeremy whined, “C’mon, Mike, I need help!”
Michael’s eyes flit between them again.
As a child, Evan liked dinosaurs.
“The gray one,” Michael said, wondering if it was the wrong choice.
It wasn’t. Jeremy seemed satisfied with the answer.
“Thanks, I can save that other one for tomorrow!”
“Uh-huh.”
“I think the gray goes better with the color of the sweats, even if it’s just pajamas.”
“Right.”
“And like, the dinosaurs are just so cute!”
“Totally.”
“Are you even listening?”
“Yup.”
Jeremy scoffed and turned towards the tv as Michael deleted another dozen spam emails. He started going through the DVDs provided by the hotel, and came up with Home Alone. “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Uh, sure. I probably won’t pay much attention though. I’ve got a lot to do,” Jeremy doesn’t answer, he’s too busy inserting the disk. The TV hums into life, and Michael sighs as the all too familiar movie plays.
It used to be his favorite when he was young. He loved the thrill of it. The bad guys, the traps, the humor. Michael liked it because he couldn’t wait till his parents would leave him home alone. They did, a few years later, and Michael hated it because some stranger had knocked on the door while they were gone and it ruined the movie for him.
Huffing, he tuned out the movie, only listening in when Jeremy would let out a snort or chuckle that had Michael smiling.
Eventually, Jeremy moves onto movie number two, and Michael has finished clearing anything unimportant, and reading over a few documents that needed attending to. He doesn’t know the movie that’s playing, but he knows it’s a holiday one by the soundtrack. Jeremy notices that he’s closed his laptop and motions him over where he lays on the bed .
Michael raises his eyebrows, but compiles. He stands by the vacant half of the bed, and crawls in when Jeremy pats it. “What’s got you so tense? You’re usually awkward but not this awkward,” Jeremy remarks, rolling over onto his stomach. He peers at Michael through honey-colored curls. Michael’s breath catches in his throat and he shrugs.
“Just a busy day, that's all.”
“Yeah, like you haven’t had it worse,” he pokes Michael’s thigh, sending a sharp butterfly-like feeling up to Michael’s brain, “c’mon tell me what’s up.”
Michael just huffs and crosses his arms. He shifts his eyes to the movie, hoping Jeremy will take the hint to shut up. He doesn’t. He places his chin on Michael’s thigh, resting his cheek against the fabric of his jeans. It can’t be comfortable, but Jeremy stays.
“What the hell are you doing?” he says, too harshly, too alarmed. Jeremy startles but doesn’t move.
“You seemed upset, and I’m not very good with words–”
“You’re a lyricist, Jeremy.”
“Shh, you’re ruining the moment. Anyway, I’m not the best at comforting people, so I kind of…like to let them know I’m there if they need me.”
Michael’s stomach churns, and his skin seems to light on fire with how hot he felt. Little did Jeremy know, he was the cause of all this. Grumbling, Michael gives a light shove to Jeremy’s head, and the blonde laughs. He settles back against the headboard as the movie continues to play on the tv.
Once the movie ends, Jeremy sits up to replace it, but Michael announces that it’s getting rather late and he should probably head to his own room. Jeremy pouts, and pulls Michael off the bed. “At least help me pick out another movie to watch on my lonesome,” he says.
Sighing, Michael does, and they settle on Mean Girls as Jeremy’s next movie.
As Michael slings his satchel of stuff over his shoulder, and has gotten his shoes on, he’s heading out the door, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing his. He turns around to find Jeremy, who smiles at him and leans forward.
Michael’s heart stops for a second and he panics. Were they about to kiss?
Jeremy’s lips brush his cheek, and his husky voice can be heard next to Michael’s ear. “Thanks for spending time with me,” he gives Michael a squeeze around his waist before letting go, “it means a lot.”
“Of course,” Michael breathed, sucking in a deep breath. With his nose right next to Jeremy’s neck, he could smell the cologne he’d applied at some point, rich and slightly intoxicating. Michael let him pull back and they stood there for a moment, soaking in the other’s presence.
Michael wanted to kiss him. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss anybody this badly. Not when he was fourteen and Tara from the tenth grade offered him a kiss, or when he had freshly graduated college and one of his fellow business majors had taken him to her room for the night. Jeremy was special. It was like this yearning inside him. It was a want. A need.
He was about to do something incredibly stupid, but he can yell at himself later.
As Jeremy took a step back, Michael advanced, pushing their lips together in a harsh kiss. It was all tooth and tongue, but that burning desire in Michael’s gut seized. Jeremy let out a gasp, one so quiet Michael nearly missed it. But another force was added to the kiss, and Jeremy pushed back. The blonde’s hand rested on his hip, and Michael’s were on his cheeks.
He only pulled back to breathe, a sheen of sweat having made it’s way onto his face. Panting, Michael nodded.
“Goodnight, Jeremy.”
And he left.
Michael’s mind was clear until he closed the door to his hotel room and locked it. That’s when it really settled in what he’d done.
Sliding down the door with his back to it, Michael rested his forehead against his knees, the last five minutes replaying in his mind.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Michael’s going to get fired for sure. He just has to hope his father is kind enough to give him another job. Jeremy must hate him. Michael’s an idiot.
A knock was heard on the door, startling Michael as he scrambled to stand up. Confused, he unlocked and opened the door.
Jeremy stood there, looking a bit flustered, and leaned against the doorframe.
“Hey,” he said, smiling softly.
Michael blinked, and opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.
Eventually, he managed to get out one word.
“Hi.”
Jeremy laughed, beautiful and bright, before grabbing the sides of Michael’s face and pulling him forward. It was a mess of laughter and lip, but it was a kiss nonetheless.
Michael pulled him into his room, and shut the door behind him with a resounding click.