Maria's Gift: Mike 4/4
Micky and Peter went back into the house and straight up to Mike and Micky's room.
Peter snapped on the light, making Mike curse and pull the pillow over his face. "Sorry."
"Turn off the damn--"
"Not yet," Micky said. "We're looking for something."
Peter nudged Mike's shoe with his foot, and it rolled into Mike's discarded clothing, tossed carelessly onto the floor. The wool hat was exposed as the clothing moved.
Peter's eyes widened. "Micky -- I think I found it."
"What?" Micky asked.
"Look at his hat -- he wore it when he went riding."
"He is right here, you know," Mike growled. "And I always wear it when I'm ridin'. So what?"
Micky crouched, frowning at the green wool lump. "Powder."
"Powder?" Mike sat up, frowning deeply. "The hat was really dusty when I picked it up--"
"That isn't dust," Micky said. "Mike, go shower and wash your hair really well. Let's get all that off of you and see what happens."
Chocolate brown eyes narrowed. "You do not tell me what to do."
"Michael, we're trying to help you," Peter said.
"If you wanna help me, then leave me alone!" Peter's face crumpled, and Mike's eyes widened. "Aw, hell. Aw, no. No, no -- I'm sorry, Shotgun, I didn't mean it like that. I don't know what's wrong with me today..."
Peter sniffled and drew an arm across his eyes. "Just -- go shower, Michael? Please?" his quavering voice asked.
Stammering apologies, Mike tore into the bathroom.
Micky moved closer to Peter. "Hey -- it'll be okay, Big Peter."
"I know." Peter looked up at him -- dry-eyed. Voice steady. "Let's get these in a bag."
His eyes widening in surprise, Micky took a step back. "You were... faking?"
Peter gave a sunny smile in reply. "Don't tell anyone. About half of my 'meltdowns' are fake. Michael needed a little 'push'. I just gave it to him."
As they loaded the contaminated clothing into a bag -- careful not to touch any of it -- Micky asked, "But if half are fake...."
"Don't worry, Micky. You'll know when it's real -- now that you know some aren't."
With that, Peter hauled the garbage bag over his shoulder and down to the washing machine in the basement, leaving that cryptic statement hanging in the air.
And leaving Micky with a lot to think about.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Peter rejoined Micky just as a scrubbed-red Mike emerged from the bathroom. He turned from where he was getting fresh clothing from Mike's closet, and his face exploded into the brightest grins Micky had seen since this started. "Now, that is more like it!"
"Huh?" Mike asked as he accepted the clothes and pulled them on, using the towel he'd had about his waist on his hair as soon as modesty permitted.
"You 'feel' more like yourself again!" Peter laughed. "That 'other you'--"
"--is still there," Mike sighed. "But I'm able to control the.... impulses....better." As he spoke, he dropped the towel carelessly on the bed. Wincing, he picked it up and tossed it into the hamper.
Peter nodded. "You'll be okay till it wears off, then." He busied himself with stripping Mike's bed, piling the sheets into another bag while Micky remade it with uncontaminated sheets.
With a deep sigh, Mike settled into a chair. "She got Mick -- and me -- then she got you. Now she got me again -- but she wasn't nowhere near!"
Micky sighed. "She must've done it while she was here curing Peter. And it didn't 'take' till now because you'd not put on your hat till now."
"My hat." Mike's eyes widened. "Where is my hat?"
Peter jerked his head toward the bag. "I sealed it in with your sheets. We'll wash them together."
Relaxing, Mike let out a tiny little sigh. "Suppose it'd be hopin' against hope that she'll leave Dave alone?"
As if on cue, there came a scream from downstairs.
END