Recovering from his initial shock, Michael smirked. "To what do I owe this unexpected, ahem, honor?"

Kyle scowled, thunderclouds in his blue eyes, and thrust the box ungraciously at Michael. "Here. Maria made me bring it. She's at work ." Kyle and Maria were practically related now, as his dad had been intently squiring her mother about town. Both were doing their best to make lemonade out of extremely sour lemons.

Michael eyed Kyle, then the box, and finally moved back from the doorway. "Entre," he said, padding barefoot towards the kitchen, and after a moment Kyle hesitantly followed. If he'd been told even just a week ago he'd be in the apartment of that weird Guerin guy, let alone bearing gifts, he would have asked what the person who'd told him that was smoking (and why they weren't sharing).

Kyle set the box on the counter and watched Michael open it and inspect the contents. Michael's face lit up and he dipped his finger in, scooping up a fingerful of chocolate frosting. "Chocolate," he said with relish, licking the frosting off his finger. His actions mesmerized Kyle, who felt his mouth grow dry as he watched Michael's pink tongue playing over his finger. His mouth is beautiful, Kyle caught himself thinking, staring at the glistening, sculpted lips, and then he shook himself out of his reverie.

What the hell is wrong with you, Kyle thought to himself, you don't even like this guy and you are staring at his mouth, of all things. Get the hell out of here!

Looking around, Kyle commented, "So you got a place and all. That's cool." Michael's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he knew that by now everyone in Roswell knew something about his situation.

"Yeah," he relaxed a little, "it's better than nothing." Closing the cake box, Michael opened the fridge and snagged a drink, flipping one to Kyle, who reflexively caught it in a smooth motion. "Good one, jock boy," Michael said as he brushed past Kyle on his way out of the narrow kitchen. Kyle got a good close-up of dark, inscrutable eyes as Michael quirked a brow at him in passing as if to say This is freaky as hell, isn't it?

i need your lovin' this i know
seventeen you drive me wild
you're just so lovely this i know
ohh..

"So, Maria's making you play nice, huh?" Kyle followed Michael's voice into the living room and popped his drink open before answering.

"Well, yeah, our folks give us hell if we don't get along." Silence descended as the two watched the TV and drank their sodas, neither really paying attention to the program as each was consumed in his own thoughts. Kyle was keenly aware of Michael's scent, faint cologne and a spicy tang that Maria would have been able to instantly identify as uniquely Michael.

"I didn't know bicycle dessert delivery was part of the bargain," Michael spoke dryly, and Kyle snickered.

"Neither did I. I made the mistake of riding by the Cafe and Maria waylaid me." Kyle regarded his cycling gear, white socks and running shoes, nylon shorts and tank top. Michael's dark gaze followed the path of Kyle's and Kyle could have sworn the temperature climbed a few degrees in the room. Clearing his throat self-consciously, he set his half-empty can on the table and rose from his seat.

Wandering away to stand in front of a painting on the wall, Kyle gestured at it, asking, "You do this?" Michael nodded solemnly, tipping his head back and draining his soda in long swallows. Fascinated by the smooth motion of Michael's throat, Kyle had to force himself to look away. What is the deal with this guy, he wondered. Something about Michael compelled Kyle; perhaps it was the perpetual reserve that made him curious to see what was behind it Michael was in the circle of people Kyle knew pretty closely, yet Kyle knew practically nothing about him. And he found himself fascinated.

Aware of the scrutiny, Michael turned another intent look upon Kyle, dark eyes half-lidded and slumberous. Kyle blinked, and with effort, returned his attention to the painting. "I didn't know you could-"

"There's a lot you don't know about me and my friends, Valenti," Michael cut him off sharply and immediately chastised himself as he saw his rudeness register in Kyle's smoky blue eyes.

Stung, Kyle shrugged. "You're an asshole, Guerin," he stated flatly, and turned to leave.

i wanna make you mine
slip into my hands...
i want it...i want it...i want it...
ooh...

"Wait," Michael rose and started to follow, and Kyle glared over his shoulder, torn between making his dignified exit into safety or staying, which somehow he just knew would prove to be dangerous.