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Love the man, Love his couch

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Tom couldn’t even begin to say how much he hated that couch. It was an eyesore, blinding in its ugliness. And mismatched with everything else that was in Mike’s apartment as well. He’d stopped dead when he’d first seen it, jaw dropping open at the sight. Mike had proudly told him how he’d bought it one day at a garage sale when he was just out of high school and how he’d had it ever since.

Tom had watched as Mike had lovingly patted the thing--which sparked a moment of jealousy in him--and then shrugged. He figured it was just Mike, who had always had odd taste.

But then Tom and Jamie had gotten divorced and Mike had offered to let him stay, offered him the couch to sleep on. He had declined, partly because he didn’t want to impose but mostly because he really didn’t want to sleep on that couch. He had an irrational fear that he would wake up the next morning loving it as much as Mike did or something.

When he and Mike finally got their heads out of their asses--all right, when Tom finally did and realized that his best friend was in love with him and hey, he returned those feelings--he tried to subtly suggest that Mike get rid of the couch. But it didn’t work.

They never had sex on that couch though. And Tom had sex with Mike just about everywhere else. The floor, the walls, the bathtub, the bed, the closet, the kitchen counters, the kitchen table, on top of the computer desk, underr the computer desk, the list went on. But he would not have sex with Mike on that couch. It was sometimes all he could do to bring himself to sit on it and cuddle with Mike.

The couch was just…well, it was a cliché and made him grimace but the couch was like Kryptonite to him. He didn’t dare tell anyone that for fear of the laughter it would evoke.

So when he and Mike took the plunge and got an apartment together and were moving their stuff? He thought that would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of the couch. He suggested that it seemed old and worn and that Mike would like a new one. He even offered to buy Mike any one he wanted--surely even Mike could not buy a couch worse than this one. But Mike said no, he was good. He loved his old couch, knew where all the lumps and broken springs and best places to sit were.

“You don’t want a new one to go with our new apartment?” Tom asked, desperately.

“Say that again.”


“Our apartment,” Mike purred and then kissed him hungrily and they didn’t really talk much for the next hour, except in groans and little pleas of “more”.

The day of moving came and they recruited all their friends to help. Allison had made them promise to kiss in front of her before she said she’s pitch in. Damn, that girl scared them both sometimes with her brain! Justin, on the other hand, asked that they keep the PDA’s to themselves. But none of their friends, bribes or not, would touch the couch.

“Man, just burn that!” Justin cried as he saw it in the back of the moving van.

“Hey!” Mike shouted, offended. He looked at Tom. “He’s talking about my couch in a nasty way. Fry him with your heat vision.”

Rolling his eyes, Tom asked, “do we have to have yet another discussion about how I am not Clark and do not have his powers, Mike?”

“But you like it when we roleplay, baby,” Mike grinned and curled around him. “When you say ‘Lex’ when I co--”

Tom slapped a hand over his mouth and hissed at him to shut up. Mike licked his palm and laughed like a loon when Tom yelped and wiped his hand on his jeans.

“When you guys are done…,” Allison said, holding a lamp. One lamp. Tom narrowed his eyes at her but she just gave it right back and he quavered.

“You’re really let him keep that couch?” Justin asked as he helped carry a heavy box with Mike’s stereo in it.

Tom shrugged. “Guess so. I’ve never been able to get him to get rid of it. He loves it too much.” Something struck him so hard he almost dropped the box on his own feet.

Justin saw the look in his eyes. “What?”

“He loves it. And he won’t let it go or trade it in for a better one,” Tom said in wonder. “He won’t give it up because he loves it.”

“Yeah, I thought gay guys were supposed to have taste,” Justin replied but Tom barely heard him. Once they had the box in the apartment--and why did they pick a place where the damn elevator didn’t work anyway?!-Tom made a beeline for where Mike was. He found him in the kitchen, pouring lemonade (or what looked like lemonade, you never knew with Mike) for Allison and Kristin. He brushed by them all, grabbed Mike, bent him over and planted one helluva kiss on his lips. When they finally came up for air, the girls clapped and Allison muttered ‘worth it’ under her breath.

“What was that about?” Mike asked, breathlessly.

“You and that couch.”

“I know you hate it--” He started to say but Tom cut him off.

“Keep it. I love that you love that couch. I love you.”

Bewildered, Mike furrowed his brow and said, “Okay,” in that way people do when they are trying to understand what the other person is talking about.

But Tom didn’t explain. He simply pulled Mike by the hand and said, “Let’s go bring that couch in.”

And they did, the two of them, together.

But Tom still wouldn’t have sex with him on it.