a bet {michael}

[Jackson Asher Reid]

september 15th, 2013 - 07:00pm

[style= font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff; line-height: 80%; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: center-justify;]Gravity pulls and We fall from the clouds. We prove to each other That we're both human, now. The time that we spent Trying to make sense Of it all. All that I'm asking for Is that you need nothing more, And nothing comes in between Our love, and it's fragile, see. All that I'm asking for.

you're all that I'm asking for

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Jackson checked the time on his watch when he pulled his car to a stop outside Michael's home. It was definitely the kind of place that he pictured the other man having. It was open, but not too open. It was well protected with the back of it facing a hill. It would be nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on the house. Which was why Jackson had planned to get there before Michael got home. See, the two men had an ongoing bet. The bet was that if Jackson could get into Michael's home and find the stash of sodas hidden inside, Michael would not have any caffeine for a pre-determined amount of time. The thing that had taken him the longest to even try was figuring out what Michael's security code for the alarm system was. It would do no good to have that going off, after all. Of course, the code was not/i] simple, and Jackson was confident most people would never guess it. Jackson was not even one-hundred percent sure he was right on what the code was, or if Michael even had an alarm system (however, it was most likely, considering Michael's profession), but he was working on his best, educational guess.

Grabbing the couple of tools he would need to get the lock, Jackson turned off the car and got out. Once at the door, he set to work at picking the lock, something he had learned at a very young age. It had been easy to figure out how they worked, and after that, no Christmas present had a safe hiding spot. Getting the door open was the easy part, the beeping sound that Jackson heard next was sign that he was correct in the assumption about the security alarm. Jackson guessed that he had only a couple of minutes and very few wrong tries before the alarm would actually go off. Letting out a heavy breath, Jackson inputted his first guess, which turned out to be wrong; and, then he tried the second set of numbers, which turned off the alarm. "Cool," he mumbled to himself. Michael had chosen a very good code that would not be easily figured out by people. Smart.

Reid then made his way farther into the house to start looking for the sodas after taking a few moments to stop and try to think like Michael would. Where would he keep a stash of sodas to be hidden? Jackson checked a few obvious places first, not really expecting to find them there. The coffee was easily found and pulled aside, and Jackson started to grow a bit discouraged before he realized. He knew exactly where the soda stash was. With a grin, Jackson went to get the sodas, and when he found them, he placed them on the couch in the living room just as he heard the sound of a car door outside. Jackson dropped down onto the couch next to the sodas as a key was placed into the lock. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked a bit as the other man came into the living room. "I do believe we would call this 'checkmate'," he stated.

tag: michael word count: 0522 outfit: link
notes: ohai. let's do this -srs expression-

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[Michael Wyatt Greyson]

Michael pulled his motorcycle into the driveway, a smile appearing under the helmet that he was on his head. Reid's car was parked in font of him. Well this night just got interesting. He'd gone to the local dojang to practice his Taekwondo, and by local he had a half an hour drive each way. Something told him Reid would know about that. Not because Michael said anything, but because the younger man was good at reading people. It was a weekly thing he did, that is, if he did not happen to work the night shift. Usually, it was the one day a week Michael specifically asked off for, but he was not above canceling his plans, and working if the school needed him. Cutting the engine, he pulled out the keys, and took off his helmet. Getting off the bike, he walked up the steps to the front door with a small smirk on his face. Really, it was probably a good thing Reid had came when he was gone. Michael would not have forgiven himself if he had hurt the younger man. Sneaking up on Michael was not a good thing to do, a smart thing to do. He tended to react first, and think second. Whether because of his training or his PTSD, he was not sure. Probably a bit of both.

Sliding the key into the lock, he turned it, and opened the door. As he stepped inside, he made sure to re-lock the door, and activate the security system. A system he'd been told was top of the line. And he did not choose an easy password either. Damn, boy wonder, he thought shaking his head slightly. He moved to the back of the couch as Reid spoke, then reached down and messed with the younger man's hair. Smiling down at him Michael said, ”Yeah, Yeah.” He moved to the counter as he said, Make yourself at home, pretty boy." setting his keys, sunglasses, and gun there (after he had double checked the safety was on), before walking to the closet. He placed his helmet, gloves, and jacket inside, then took off his boots, before closing the door. Well, he had thought he would come home, take a nice hot bath to help the ache in his muscles, make some dinner, and listen to some nice music as he read, or watch a movie. Change of plans now, not that he minded really at all.

Pulling up his sleeves as he walked over to the couch, he plopped down next to Reid, and put his feet up. His eyes looked longingly at the Mt. Dew and other caffeine that was piled by them. 'Spose I should call in to work for a few days,” he said. Knowing how much caffeine he consumed on a daily basis, Michael knew he was going to have some severe withdrawl symptoms. It was not going to be fun, but he was a man of his word. He took his phone off his belt, and did just that, thankful they said okay without asking many questions. When he was done, he placed his phone on the nearby table. Looking at Reid he said, ”What now?” Something told him the doctor was enjoying this, and going to enjoy it even more. How the hell had he became the doctor's test subject?! Metal note, never make bets with Doctor Jackson Reid. Unless they are of a physical nature, then, Michael had no doubt he'd win.

outfit

[Jackson Asher Reid]

[style= font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff; line-height: 80%; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: center-justify;]Gravity pulls and We fall from the clouds. We prove to each other That we're both human, now. The time that we spent Trying to make sense Of it all. All that I'm asking for Is that you need nothing more, And nothing comes in between Our love, and it's fragile, see. All that I'm asking for.

you're all that I'm asking for

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Actually having Michael in the house made Jackson feel a lot more at ease. Even though he knew that Michael was very aware he would be there at some point, he was never comfortable being in someone's home when the owner was not there. It just never sat right with him. He huffed in annoyance, though there was a slight smile on his face at the same time, when Michael messed with his hair. It was a general rule that Jackson did not let people mess with his hair. It was too close for comfort, in his opinion; and, he would much rather people be kept at a safe distance. There were a few, though, that he would never really mind it with. They were the people that he trusted, the ones that he actually liked physical contact from. His parents had never been very physically affectionate. They never hugged, it just was not done in the Reid household. It wasn't until Jackson was in college that he hugged his siblings for the first time that he could really remember. It was because of that, that Jackson and a few other people believed that he thrived under physical contact with somebody he was close to, in the most platonic way, anyway. "Why do you call me that?" Jackson questioned, turning in the seat enough to watch Michael. "I'm not a pretty boy." Now, Jackson did not consider himself unattractive; but, he was not what he would consider "pretty". He smiled as Michael came over to sit next to him on the couch and laughed at the statement about calling in to work. "Well, you can help lessen the headaches by drinking a lot of water and taking some Tylenol. I've got some tea that would help lessen the headaches, too," he commented with a nod, uncrossing his arms only to cross them the other direction, each hand gripping the opposite forearm.

While Jackson may have been all for Michael giving up caffeine (if only for a short time), he did not want the guy to just suffer the entire time. That was not a good thing. While he was bound to be rather amused by the undoubted irritation that Michael would feel, it was the headache part that Jackson was not fond of. "What now?

[/color]" Jackson laughed softly, absentmindedly reaching up to run his hand through his hair once again before crossing his arms to grip each forearm like he had been doing moments before. "Right now, you should really start drinking some water, or tea even, before your head starts to hurt." He nodded a little and reached up to lightly press against the middle of Michael's forehead. "It's most likely to start right there." He nodded a little as he pulled away once again. "Should put on a movie or something, too, something that'll keep you focused." He nodded a little with a slight smile.

tag: michael word count: 0494 outfit: link
notes: omg, ew. that's a terrible word count. D:

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[Michael Wyatt Greyson]

Michael leaned back into the couch, and shrugged his shoulders lightly. Why he called Reid pretty boy wasn't something he really had spent time thinking about. It had started after they had met again at St. Helena's. Before that, when they had known each other at the FBI He'd called him Doctor Reid, or just Reid. Though Michael supposed circumstances were very different now then they had been there. They had spent time together now. Non work related time. Or at least, time that did not involve the stress of needing to save someone's life in a race against time. ”What can I say, I like nicknames. I call A.J. West kid, would you prefer that?” he asked with a smirk, before adding more seriously, ”Don't sell yourself short Reid,” While Reid may not find himself to be pretty or attractive, Michael found he man growing on him. He had not been out rightly attracted to him when they first met, seeing more the geekier side of the doctor, but even that had been somewhat endearing to Michael. Though that had been not the right time or place for him to think about such things. Now that they had spent time together, he would be lying if he did not say he'd noticed his feelings changing toward the younger man. It was weird for Michael to really like someone emotionally as more than a platonic friendship, without having any sexual component to it. And, it scared him because he hadn't been intimate with anyone since his torture.

He nodded, smiling when Reid touched his forehead. “Alright, alright” he said as he lowered his feet and stood up. Moving toward the kitchen, he said, “ I'm not much of a tea drinker, but if it'll help, I’ll give it a shot.” Honestly, he was not a tea drinker, at all. There was no tea in his house. He gabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet, and moved toward the fridge. ”Do you want anything?” he asked, as he opened the door. Reaching in, he grabbed a water bottle for himself, and another for Reid as he answered. Carrying them over to the couch, he handed one to Reid, and set down his water so he could open the Tylenol. Popping one pill in his mouth, he opened the water, took a gulp of his water, and repeated, this time drinking a bit more of the water after the pill was down. He was thirsty from his work out, anyway. Setting down his water walked to his DVD's, and grabbed one he had not watched in awhile, but was one of his favorites. Bourne Identity good with you?” he asked looking over his shoulder. When the other man replied that it was, Michael took the disc out of the case, and put it in. Starting up the movie, before returning to the couch. As he sat down, he put his feet up, and leaned back, relaxing and getting comfortable.

[Jackson Asher Reid]

[style= font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff; line-height: 80%; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: center-justify;]Gravity pulls and We fall from the clouds. We prove to each other That we're both human, now. The time that we spent Trying to make sense Of it all. All that I'm asking for Is that you need nothing more, And nothing comes in between Our love, and it's fragile, see. All that I'm asking for.

you're all that I'm asking for

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He scrunched his face up slightly at the suggestion of calling him 'kid' like A.J. That did not sound like a good idea at all. He called A.J. 'kid', himself. Of course, more often than not it was 'you little shit' or 'Malfoy', because of the other term. A.J. understood the reference, even if not everyone else did. "Uh, no, I think I'd rather not like to be called kid," he replied with a slight shake of his head and a laugh. "I'm not selling myself short, though. I just... I don't see pretty, but to each their own, I guess." Jackson lifted his shoulders in a shrug as he shifted on the couch a bit, trying to get more comfortable. "Should wait until you're feeling a headache start in for the tea, then. You can put it off longer." Jackson smiled a little with a nod. He always had some kind of tea with him, kept in the small emergency bag in the back of his car. He carried a change of clothes and a prepaid cell phone in the bag, just in case it was ever needed. Plus, whenever he was randomly asked to fly across country, it was just easier to already have the basics packed. Jackson asked for a water when Michael asked if he wanted anything, and he smiled in thanks as the other man sat down next to him. "Thanks," he actually said the word before twisting the cap to take it off in order to take a drink himself. He had a bunch of coffee earlier, mostly to keep himself awake enough to properly lecture his class. He had not slept so well the evening before, though not for lack of trying. It was just one of those nights in which sleep eluded him. He hated nights like that.

Michael got up to pick out one of the movies and Jackson absentmindedly picked at the edge of the label on his water bottle and he smiled when the other man actually chose one. "Yeah, that's a good one," Jackson agreed with a nod. He smiled as Michael came back over to the couch to sit down as well. "Have you ever read the books? They're what inspired me to start writing." Of course, those stores would never reach the light of day. Jackson was not even sure if he owned copies of those first few novels he had written. They were probably shredded during one of his cleaning sprees through the years. He had gone in different directions with his writing since then; but, still, the inspiration to pen ideas to paper would always belong to that book series. He had read it when he was young, and loved them immediately. Of course, talking about it made him want to re-read each of them. "I think this was my favorite Matt Damon role, as well. He's a very one-dimensional actor, I think." He believed that actors like Damon often got roles simply because they looked the part, not because they could act it. Which that should have been the point, however, things did not work that way.

tag: michael word count: 0536 outfit: link
notes: better word count.

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[Michael Wyatt Greyson]

Nodding, Michael took a drink of his water, his gaze shifting between the tv and Reid. Of the three movies in the original Bourne trilogy, as Michael did not consider the newest movie The Bourne Legacy as part. It was good as a stand alone, but should not be thought of in conjunction with the others ”I have read the books,” he said. He did not think many people would look at him and think he would like to read. But, as the saying went, 'don't judge a book by it's cover.' ”It was a long time ago, high school I think. Maybe I should re-read them one of these days,” he said making a mental note to do just that. He'd wait until he was finished with the one he was currently reading, or had just started really. A.J. had suggested the book to him. It was the first of a series by a J. E. Irons. Setting his water down, he leaned back, and stretched his arm out on the couch behind the younger male. His gaze was on Reid, no longer really watching the movie, though his ears picked up the familiar sounds. He'd seen it enough to know by that alone what was going on. ”What do you write?” he asked genuinely interested. He knew Reid had published some books like his Dathmer and The Psychology of the Abused. Both of which were sitting on Michael's shelf in his section that contained his more work related type of books. But he had said they had inspired him to start writing. The Bourne series did not seem like it would inspire him to write either of those books. They were fact based, analytical, statistical. If he were being honest, somewhat boring to read after a while. Because when Michael read, it was to get out of his head. Forget things he had seen at work, get pulled into another world for a short period of time. Where he did not have to try and be the hero.

He rolled his eyes slightly, faking annoyance. ”You're over thinking it, Reid,” he said shaking his head, and laughing lightly. ”It's entertainment. Just enjoy Matt Damon for the eye candy he is,” Was he one of Michael's favorite actors? No. But, he was fun to watch. That is if one did not sit and analyze everything about the movie. How this was wrong or that. And don't get him started on the fight scenes or gun sequences. Or how his brain would watch a movie and he'd know within like the first ten minutes who theunsub was. How his brain could pick apart things that others would not see. Not without trying, anyway. It was a hazard of his job, he figured. He tried no too. Tried to just shut that part of his brain off. Something that was easier said than done, especially lately, it just seemed impossible to shut that part of his brain off, to relax like he had before. Michael knew he had PTSD, knew the signs, the symptoms. But, that did not make it easier to cope with. He just did his best to take it day by day.

[Jackson Asher Reid]

[style= font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff; line-height: 80%; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: center-justify;]Gravity pulls and We fall from the clouds. We prove to each other That we're both human, now. The time that we spent Trying to make sense Of it all. All that I'm asking for Is that you need nothing more, And nothing comes in between Our love, and it's fragile, see. All that I'm asking for.

you're all that I'm asking for

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Jackson smiled when he heard that Michael had read the books. He could easily see the other man reading them, just as well as he couldn't. They weren't the type of books that many pictured government agents to read; but, Michael was never traditional. It was a book series about a man overcoming the odds, or trying to, anyway. He could see how it would be a series that any boy would enjoy. "I was in elementary school when I read them last," Jackson stated with a nod and a laugh. He had been in the sixth grade when he read them. He would not lie, there were concepts that were difficult for him to grasp at that time, but he got it in the end. "Me? I write factual books about varying topics," he replied with a slight shrug. It was not entirely a lie, as it was technically not a lie at all. His fictional works were released under a different name, and therefore, he was not lying in stating that they were not his books. Even if they were the reason he had a lot more money in his bank account than he wanted people knowing. He already got treated differently for being that young, smart guy. He did not need more of it because he was successful with a hefty bank account as well. "I used to write fiction in middle school, though. I still do for fun from time to time; but, nothing that I publish or anything. No matter the subject of the book penned, it still comes down to having read that series that made me want to put pen to paper to collect thoughts and ideas in that way." Jackson nodded a little, glad that A.J. was not there to give him that shit eating smirk that he would give hearing Jackson purposely not talk about his pseudonym works. It was not that he was ashamed of his writing, or that he did not trust Michael or anything. It had been the idea of his publisher. After all, people might react differently to his books if they knew that he was the author and not some stereo-typical fantasy writer, it was likely to influence sales negatively. With his friends, well, Jackson really just did not wish for another reason for people to try to tease him.

"I am always over-thinking things," Jackson replied as he settled onto the couch more to get more comfortable, leaning against Michael slightly in the process as he continued to mess with the water bottle label. It took him a moment to realize what he was doing and he set the bottle next to him on the couch, to stop himself from that. Supposedly, toying with a label on a bottle like that was a sign of sexual frustration, something that Jackson was not sure he agreed with; but, he often tried to not let himself do something like that in case he was with someone who did know that fact and believed it. Once again, not wanting to have another reason to be picked on was the avoidance there. He was not sure if Michael was aware of that bit of psychology, and if he was... well, he really just hoped the other man did not comment on it. He scrunched his face up a little as Michael talked about Matt Damon, and shook his head a little. "I would not label him as 'eye candy'. I do not think that he is as attractive as he and many others believe he is." He shook his head a little, tipping it to the side slightly. Sure, he could tell that the man was more on the fit side, and his face was fairly symmetrical, which most would consider to be a sign of attractiveness. However, Jackson was never one to think that the man was. Then again, personalities had a big influence on Jackson's opinion of people; and, he did not see much of a personality from the actor, therefore, there was not much influence. Jackson would much rather see someone like Michael running around in a movie like that; but, that was a comment to keep quiet about. "You believe him to be attractive?" He had no comments on the fact that Michael's statement proved that the man at least had a liking for men, whether it was singly there or if he liked women as well. It was not something that Jackson had known before, but he did not believe it mattered. That did not effect their friendship in any manner, nor had it really been any of his business. However, it did make Jackson aware of the fact that there was a slight chance that Michael could be attracted to him, and that made him... Well, he was not sure what the feeling was. Hopeful, maybe; but, he was not going to dwell on things like that. It was rather something that he need not think on, as the plausibility of something like that was quite low, as far as the young doctor was aware.

tag: michael word count: 0859 outfit: link
notes: better word count.

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[Michael Wyatt Greyson]

Michael raised an eyebrow as he looked at Reid somewhat in disbelief. He knew that the young doctor was smart. Like wicked smart. But hearing a statement like that still blew his mind. Elementary school?! Michael had read the books when he'd been in high school and had still struggled some. Granted he had never been gifted, school had always been a struggle for him. So much so that his senior year he'd had to get a tutor just so he could keep his grades up and maintain his athletic eligibility, as well as get in to college. ”I read them in high school,” he stated. He gave Reid a smile as the young doctor mentioned he wrote factual books. ”That I knew I have a few on my bookshelf,” he explained. Given his degree in criminal justice with a minor in psychology, not to mention that he worked with the FBI, specifically the branch that profiled serial killers, it was a no brainier as far as Michael was concerned to have read some of Reid's books. Michael nodded as Reid talked about writing fiction. Everyone needed to have something they did to destress and/or clear their head.”Kind of cathartic?” he asked. He could see Reid doing that with out any problem. It would just be so...him. ”For me, that's Taekwondo. Which was where I was when you were breaking in,” he said as he smiled at Reid.

”That does not surprise me,” Michael said laughing lightly. Michael noticed the younger man leaning into him, and did not mind it at all. In fact, he enjoyed it, and liked the fact that Reid was comfortable enough with him to do so. Michael thought it might be the most relaxed he had ever seen the doctor. He noticed Reid playing with the wrapper of his water bottle, and he knew what doing so supposedly meant. But, Michael acted as though he did not know that fact, seeing no reason to embarrass the young doctor. Admittedly, Michael was enjoying his company, and feared if he did embarrass Reid that way, the man would leave. Michael paid close attention to the wording Reid used when he spoke and picked up on the fact that Reid did not find him attractive. Not that he didn't find men attractive, but specifically, Matt Damon. Which gave Michael the impression that Reid was not exactly straight. It didn't matter to Michael at all. If it had, that would have been pretty damn hypocritical of him. ”Well, he's no Jensen Ackles, but he's alright,” Jensen Ackles was eye candy, as far as Michael was concerned. And Supernatural was one of his favorite shows. As an afterthought, he added, ”I'm bisexual,” he said feeling the need to clarify. It was not something he hid. Did he go blurting it out to anyone and everyone? No. But, his family and friends knew. Even a few of his co-workers. Nothing about Doctor Jackson Reid had led him to believe the man was homophobic, so Michael saw no reason not to tell him. Michael started to feel a headache coming on, right where Reid had said it would. Unconsciously, he put his fingers there, looking down, and closed his eyes. He could feel it building, and the night had only just begone. It was going to get significantly worse, before it got better.

[Jackson Asher Reid]

[style= font-family: georgia; font-size: 10px; color: #ffffff; line-height: 80%; text-transform: lowercase; text-align: center-justify;]Gravity pulls and We fall from the clouds. We prove to each other That we're both human, now. The time that we spent Trying to make sense Of it all. All that I'm asking for Is that you need nothing more, And nothing comes in between Our love, and it's fragile, see. All that I'm asking for.

you're all that I'm asking for

[style= width: 311px; padding: 3px; background: #333; color: #ccc; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; text-align:justify; line-height: 90%; border-left: 30px solid #a41e45;]

Jackson just shrugged a little when Michael lifted a brow at him. He had a high school age reading level at a very young age. He was well ahead of his classmates, which was how he had been able to skip so many grades and graduate so early. He had found it to be both a good and bad thing. While he enjoyed being able to learn more as soon as he could, it made his social skills severely lack. He had never had too many close friends, as all his peers were generally years older than him; and, when he did meet people his own age, they were often intimidated by his intelligence, or they simply found him annoying. A.J. was the first person in his age group that he felt really close to, on a platonic level, however. He could never see that little shit as anything more than a technically-not sibling. He was not surprised to hear that Michael had a few of his books, honestly. He would have been if he knew that the man had one of his other books, but that was something else, entirely. At the same time, though, he was fairly surprised that Michael had some of the books. After all, wouldn't he get enough of that at work? Well, with his job at the FBI, anyway. "Yes, exactly. Something to kind of clear my mind from everything," he agreed with a nod. Though, he did end up publishing some of those works that were not intended to be seen by others. His publisher was pushy about things like that. She kept trying to get him to at least let her read over a sci-fi based book that he had written ages ago; but, that one was kept far from prying eyes from the nearly finished works that he had no intention of sharing with anyone. He really did not like sharing anything that was not finished in the first place. Plus, well, some things were just better kept to yourself. "Are the classes here any good? I have not heard much of anything about it." It was no real surprise, though, that Jackson was unaware of the Taekwando classes in town. He really was not a physical activities person. Clearly, he had been spending too much time with A.J. as he nearly laughed out loud as he could easily picture A.J.'s response if he had ever voiced such a thought to the younger man. The little shit.

He laughed with a shrug to Michael's response about him over-thinking things. Jackson knew well that people who over-thought things like he did were often the people who never just did. They were rarely spontaneous and that often led to more health conditions in the long run. It could crush dreams and stop them from ever being attempted. Jackson tried to balance out just doing and over-thinking, but more often than not, he would think things through too hard. Many opportunities passed him by because of it, but at the same time, he had found many different opportunities by doing just that. He found new things to accomplish and pushed himself farther. If he had not over-thought his options, he never would have gotten anything published. He did not think he could ever be one of those people who could just out of nowhere come up with a new life goal or decide to go on a vacation. All his vacations were well planned. The only real spontaneous thing he did was not even his choice, and that was his sister, brother-in-law, and their children suddenly showing up on his doorstep, usually at inopportune moments. "Well, it's what I'm good at." Jackson nodded a little as he grabbed the water again to take another drink, settling back into place leaning against Michael after placing the water aside again. He smiled at the mention of an actor that Jackson actually did find to be quite attractive. That was one they would agree on, and he nodded a little. A smile formed on his face with a nod of understanding as Michael explained his sexuality. "I would more greatly associate with pan- or omnisexuality. Gender is no matter to me. Personality is the important part, and it plays a large role in attractiveness to me. Such people as Megan Fox who is considered to be quite beautiful by society has no effect on me, as from what I have seen of her personality traits, she is lacking in anything admirable." He honestly could not fathom why anyone would disregard personality in ties to attractiveness, but he would never press the issue to anyone. After all, no two people were built the same and they were each entitled to their own opinion.

He noticed Michael's actions, presumably in response to a headache, and he smiled sympathetically. "Would you like to try some of the tea now? It may not completely rid you of a headache, but it does help a bit." Jackson nodded a little as he shifted away from the other man to actually look at him better. He reached up to run his thumb along a few inches of skin next to where Michael's fingers were, placing moderate pressure as he did. "Sometimes, running pressure like that just along here will help to lessen the intensity of a headache. Some believe it's a mind over matter thing, but it has been known to help me from time to time." He nodded a little as he pulled back into his own personal space with another slight smile.

tag: michael word count: 0950 outfit: link
notes: better word count.

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