InsaneJournal

Meet the Goldsteins (Anthony/Michael, PG-13)
Title: Meet the Goldsteins
Characters: Anthony Goldstein/Michael Corner
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 776
Warnings: Shameless self-indulgence.
Summary: It's not an occasion, but Anthony might vomit, and Michael really shouldn't wear a tracksuit.
Notes: For annearchy, who requested Anthony/Michael, "the odd couple". This is definitely somewhat inspired by our soon-to-be-dearly-departed road_ahead, though I don't think robriki's Mikey would ever find himself in this situation. Call it RA AU if you like, heh.

"It's not that I don't like the tracksuits," Anthony explained, ignoring the fact that he was lying through his teeth, "I just…I see them a lot. That's all." He knew he had to be diplomatic, tactical—one never knew when Michael was going to get upset at what had only been meant as a helpful suggestion. Anthony still hadn’t forgotten the incident with the artichoke, or the time they'd stopped speaking for three days because of a misplaced trainer (Michael's, and not Anthony's fault).

He cleared his throat. Michael was still submerged in the depths of the closet and appeared not to have heard him. Anthony made a face and settled back on the sofa.

"It's not as if you're Meeting My Parents, capital M, capital M, capital P. They still think I'm going to bring a girl home someday. It doesn't matter that much what you wear." Unless it's a tracksuit, he added silently. He studied his fingernails, then stuck his left index finger in his mouth and began to gnaw at it.

"You have a lot of shoes," came Michael's voice from inside Anthony's closet.

"Not a lot. Six pair. Seven."

Michael stuck his shaggy head out, grinning. "Eight."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Okay. Are you ready? Or do I have time to vomit first?"

"I thought this wasn't a capital letter occasion," Michael called, his head gone from sight again. "This is a big closet. I think it's half the size of your flat."

"It's not," Anthony replied, "The occasion, I mean. It's not even an occasion, as far as my parents know. But I still maintain the right to vomit. And I expanded the closet when I moved in."

"Ooh, a handy man."

"With Wizarding space, fuck, Mikey, please tell me you're ready." Anthony had finished trimming the nails on his left hand and now inspected the ones on his right.

"Ready." Michael emerged, clad not in his tracksuit, but in decent trousers and one of Anthony's beloved argyle sleeveless jumpers over a crisp white cotton shirt. "Do I look respectable enough to meet the Goldsteins?"

Anthony gaped. "The Minister, even," he remarked, and he crossed to Michael. "But how does that fit you? Fuck, tell me you haven't stretched it beyond repair." He inspected the seams of the jumper, his favourite, the nice dark blue one with the grey and cream argyle pattern. They seemed to be in good repair.

"A wizard never tells," said Michael, wearing a smug smile, and he whirled around to face Anthony and took him by the shoulders and kissed him soundly. "Okay," he said, "Vomit if you must, then clean your teeth and we'll be off." Michael inspected his reflection in the mirror, and Anthony just stood there and shook his head, unable to keep a smile from creeping across his face.

"You think you're brilliant, don't you?"

"No. I know I'm brilliant. Now hurry up and vomit and let's go. I'll act queer in front of your parents if we end up being late."

"You are queer." Anthony shrugged on his peacoat. He bit his lip to refrain from mentioning that Michael's wardrobe crisis was what was making them late.

"Not as queer as you, princess," said Michael, smacking Anthony's arse.

"Not on!" Anthony had opened the door, but slammed it shut and turned and frowned at Michael. "Just—seriously, please, it means a lot to me that my parents don't find out. That nobody finds out."

Michael's expression softened so slightly that Anthony didn't think anyone but he would have noticed. "I know," he said, "I'm just glad you let me in on the secret." His tone was jovial, as always, but there was an underlying current to it, one that was slightly more serious.

"Me, too," said Anthony, "Though I didn't exactly have a choice."

Michael smirked and pressed Anthony against the door with the weight of his body. "Ravenclaws are observant," he said before kissing Anthony again.

"Mmm," Anthony agreed, and when Michael broke the kiss, he said "Some more than others. Seriously, though—"

"—we have to go. I know. I plan to fuck you soundly when we get back here tonight, though."

Anthony's cheeks felt as though they were on fire. "Don't say that!" he hissed, though he couldn't help but sound almost pleased.

"Just giving you something to think about during dinner," said Michael, giving Anthony's arse a squeeze. "Now. Let's go meet the Goldsteins."