He Who Controls the (Pumpkin) Spice
After talking with the police (who agree to keep the incident out of the press as long as they can), Michael finally makes it back to his hotel. It’s still fairly early (all things considered), but he doesn’t try to confront James—not yet, anyway. That will have to wait until he gets his head wrapped around it all. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep, but to his surprise, by the time he gets to his suite, he can barely put one foot in front of the other and it’s all he can do to make it to the bed before collapsing into an exhausted sleep.
The next morning, his alarm goes off, and he wakes, groggy and confused. That was such a strange dream.Why am I still wearing my clothes? What did I...his inner dialogue trails off and he bolts upright. “Holy shit!” (his new catch-phrase, apparently). “Holy shit! That really happened! James is Amore`!”
Still trying to make sense of it, he takes a quick shower and dresses—he’s got an errand to run before he meets everyone (meaning James) for breakfast. That conversation with James is going to be difficult at best and Michael is going to have to play dirty to get James to talk.
An hour later...
Armed with his bribe, Michael walks into the lounge and spots his target: a rumpled, sleep-pink, utterly adorable-looking James slumped over on one of the tables. He’s, barely awake, blue eyes heavy-lidded and blinking sleepily. Michael has to fight not to vocalize his inner “Awww!!!”.
But at least he’s not the only one affected. All of the girls whispering, cooing, and giggling over how cute and adorable James looks. “Ohhh, I just wanna cuddle him so hard right now!” Jennifer moans, eye-fucking James–-completely missing Michael’s glare.
“Oh, I know what you mean!” Anna says. “He is just the sweetest-looking thing! I just wanna roll around on him!” She misses Michael’s glare, as well.
“I want to rub his belly and make him purr, so bad!” Ellen says. *crickets* “What!?” she snaps. “That,” she points at the now-sleeping James, “is a boatload of adorable sexiness, pure and simple—even if he is a man!”
Jennifer, Anna, and Michael all shrug and nod in agreement.
“Morning, everyone!” Hugh sing-songs, as he walks in, waving. He stops short when he sees James, and grins (‘One of these days, he thinks,his grin turning ever so slightly evil, ‘Michael will figure out that he’s not nearly so subtle as he likes to think’).
“Oh, look! Isn’t he precious!?” he coos, ruffling James’s hair. James makes a contented rumbling noise, then sighs happily. All of the girls coo and giggle some more.
Jennifer gives Michael a strange look. “Are you growling?”
“What!? No! Of course not!” Michael lies. “Why would I do that? Ha ha. Ha.” Please, kill me now...
Jennifer edges away from him. “Sure, Mickey Mouse. Whatever you say. ‘Ha ha. Ha’.” She shoots him a suspicious, narrow-eyed look over her shoulder as she heads back over to the girls.
‘Jesus, Michael! Could you be any more of an idiot?’ he thinks to himself. Then, remembering his plan, he checks the bribes. Yep, still hot. Good.
Michael stands across from the now-napping James and holds a steaming cup by his nose. James grumbles a bit, his nostrils quiver and then his nose begins to twitch as he breathes in the aroma wafting up from the streaming cup. He makes a soft whimpering noise, his lashes flutter, and one bleary blue eye slowly opens. “Mmmrrmmuuphhhh...” he mumbles, the hand not flung across the table unwinds itself from his jumper and snakes out, making grabby motions in the direction of the tantalizing aroma.
Hardening his heart against what he’s about to do, Michael holds the still-steaming cup of Pumpkin Spice Latte just out James’s reach. When Michael doesn’t hand it to him, James frowns. Then frown turns into a scowl, his eyes ferally tracking the movements of the cup. Suddenly, he growls low in his throat and lunges. "No!” Michael snaps, jerking cup out of reach. James growls in protest, but sinks back into his seat, slouching down, eyes never leaving the cup (‘If he had a tail it’d be lashing right now’).
Holding the cup close enough for James to smell, but not touch, Michael says, “Not until you agree to talk. Then you can have this...” he waves the cup at James. “Or...I can always drink it myself...”
James whimpers pitifully and makes grabby hands.
“So you agree to talk?” Michael asks. James nods. “About last night...?” Michael clarifies. James glares at him, but reluctantly nods. And still looking slightly feral, James snatches the cup out of Michael’s hand, rips off the lid, and guzzles down the contents in just a few swallows. Michael is both shocked and impressed. “Holy shit!” he says.
Sated, James rests his face on now-empty the cup and makes contented little noises as he breathes in the remnants of the redolent Pumpkin Spice scent.
“So,” Michael starts, “Last night. That was you...? Wasn’t it?”
James mumbles something unintelligible, nose still buried in his cup.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Michael rolls his eyes in disgust. “I see how it’s going to be: I didn’t specify that you had to talk so that I could understand you...” He can feel the waves of contented smugness coming from James. “Well, that’s alright, Smarty-pants, two can play at that game.”
With an evil grin, Michael pulls out the second Pumpkin Spice Latte from where he had it concealed under the table. “Such a shame, you don’t want to play nice, James.”
James makes kitten eyes and whimpers.
“Mmmm....” Michael makes a show of breathing in the fragrance, trying not to gag (he hates the stuff). "I was saving this for you, for later, but there’s no point in it now.” More whimpering from James. “Sorry, my friend," Michael says, "but I don’t reward bad behavior. Something you might want to keep in mind, James.” The look of interest he gets from James this time is one he’s only seen in his dreams and fantasies.
James mumbles something that sounds like, “Alright! I’ll talk, damn you!”
“That’s not a very nice way to speak to me, now, is it?” Michael pretends to take a sip of the disgusting drink, and listens as James makes a mournful, shattered whine of protest.
“No! Mine! I’ll talk!” James makes with the grabby hands again.
Michael slowly pushes the cup toward him. “NO!” he admonishes, when James grabs at the cup and attempts to rip off the lid again. “No, James! Use the sippy lid!”
Still looking very much like a pissed off cat, James growls a bit but complies reluctantly, taking an exaggeratedly polite sip of his latte–-his expression melting into one of intense pleasure at the taste. His hand stealthily creeps toward the lid...“No, James! Leave it on!” the hand creeps back down and wraps around the cup, cradling it.
A few sips later (and looking a bit more like himself now), James sets the mostly empty cup on the table, sighs deeply, and looks at Michael. “Yeah. Yeah, it was me.”
Even though Michael already knew the truth, hearing it come out of James’s own mouth was still a shock. “I promised that we would hang out tonight. And we will. I promise to explain everything.” James gives a tired smile, “I’ve been getting tired of keeping it all inside, anyway. But there’s no time right now. We have to get to the set.” James nods over toward the door. “Everyone’s waiting for us.”
“We’ll finish our talk tonight?”
“Yeah, tonight.”