Micky found himself on the back of Michael's motorcycle again and he cussed to himself. How the hell did he get himself in these situations?

He was still wearing his uniform, which was getting covered in dust and dirt as Michael sped through town, but he couldn't worry about that now. His only focus was holding onto Michael and praying that he wouldn't get thrown off the motorcycle and die.

To Micky's surprise, and relief, they pulled up to Michael's house. Michael stored his motorcycle in the garage and Micky wordlessly followed him into the house. But the silence was awkward and tense—after all, couldn't this technically be considered kidnapping?—and Micky was the first to break it.

"Mike?" Michael turned to face him. "Why did you bring me here?"

Michael didn't respond to Micky's question. Instead, he stepped closer and backed Micky up against the wall.

"M-Mike?"

"This is a silly uniform ain't it?" Michael laughed and played with the straps of the apron Micky was forced to wear. "Though, maybe you'd look best in nothing, but an apron."

"Mike, what are you—"

Micky didn't get a chance to finish his question.

He was interrupted by Michael's lips meeting his in a kiss.