Come Over Here And Make Me

"Mikey, get down from there!” Frank yells, lowering his cupped hands. He blows some hot air into them, stamping his feet in an effort to stay warm. It is 5:30 a.m. and less than 30 degrees out, so he is really not in the mood to watch Mikey play jungle gym in the school’s trees, especially when they have to report for academic decathlon in less than ten minutes.
Mikey only climbs higher, protesting, “No!”
Frank picks up a pebble, hurling it uselessly at the boy, missing him by a mile. “Get over here, you twat! We’re going to be late! Mrs. Dregg will be pissed!” He tosses another small rock, calling, “Climb down!”
Mikey appears from the weaved branches, sticking his tongue out as he challenges, “Come over here and make me.”
Frank, left with no other choice, heads to the base of the tree, shimmying up as he grumbles, “Gerard’s weird ass little brother climbing trees like a fucking scrawny possum.” He reaches up a few layers of branches, muttering, “I’m not built for this shit.”
Not a second after he says that, his foot plants on an icy branch, sending him spiraling to the ground, where he hits, hard.
He manages not to cry, but of course he’d let out an involuntary yelp as he’d fallen. The grass is frosted over with light snow, which sticks to Frank as he lays there. Frank grabs his knee, writhing in pain.
Mikey springs from branch to branch with ease, rushing down to Frank’s side. “Are you okay? You looked like an elephant falling down.”
“Gee, thanks Mikes,” Frank wheezes. The wind had been knocked out of him, making speaking unnecessarily difficult.
Mikey smiles sheepishly, and realizing Frank’s gripping his knee; Mikey pokes at it, asking, “Does it hurt?”
Frank nods, groaning, “I’m pretty sure it’s bleeding.”
Mikey frowns, and grabs the top of Frank’s pants, pulling them down to the older boy’s ankles wordlessly.
The icy air stings against Frank’s exposed legs. He can feel his face burn scarlet as he reaches for his jeans, punching Mikey in the arm. “What was that for?”
Mikey pins Frank’s pants down by his feet, assuring, “I’m just looking at your knee.”
Frank pulls down his shirt to cover his underwear, demanding, “Christ, couldn’t you have rolled the pant leg up?”
“Not when you wear skinny jeans,” Mikey scoffs. “Yeah, it’s bleeding alright.”
“You don’t fucking say?” Frank snaps.
Mikey withdraws a band aid from his backpack, pressing it over Frank’s wound. He helps Frank to his feet, and Frank pulls his pants up as fast as he can. Frankpunches Mikey once more, spitting, “You could’ve given me a warning.”
Mikey smirks, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Cute briefs, by the way.”
“Shut up!” Frank grumbles, his face turning hot.
The two board the bus for academic decathlon, and when asked by their friends about their tardiness, Mikey makes sure to bring up Frank’s red underwear as much as he can.

Notes

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