Title: Two of Us 1/2 (at this stage…)

Author: Kylie (kyliesmilie26)

Pairing: Who else? M/E. There may be a hint of another pairing towards the end of this chapter… I'll let you find that one out. ;)

Rating: NC-17. For swearing and adult themes – alcohol, drugs, naughty things…

Summary: A very very belated, Birthday fic for my dear, darling Meg (mevh88). Hope you like it beautiful. 3 *hugs* Just for any of you other folk that may stumble across this – her birthday was in August. *shameface* My humble apologies for it being so horribly late, I was really hoping it would have been ready a lot sooner... *hugs*

Okay… let's attempt to do a proper summary. Michael and Eric have been in a relationship – of sorts – for several years. One has realised that he is in love with the other person; question is, does that other love him back? Or have any kind of deep feelings for him at all? And what will happen when an attempt is made to talk about it?

Disclaimer: I don't own, or have anything to do with, the amazing Michael Palin or Eric Idle. Or the other fabulous Pythons. They are real people and own themselves. I just fawn over them like the squeeing fangirl that I am.

Notes: This idea (along with plenty others), has been with me for quite some time – but that miserable excuse for a Muse has not exactly been cooperative, if anything it's been pretty much non-existent since finishing No Response… so this is probably rather ordinary…

What has resulted turned into something I didn't quite expect. It swayed quite drastically from my original idea, but you gotta go with the muse. I tried to do something different… but I don't think I succeeded. In fact I know I failed. Miserably. More of the usual angst. That said, enjoy guys. xo :)

Again – I've rattled on… for something different. If you've got this far, well done, and I promise, there is an attempt at a story below… ;)


Two of us, just the two of us

Not too many or too few of us

Two of us together in any kind of weather,

Two of us together just the two of us…

He had had that blasted song in his head all day. Why it had suddenly appeared at the forefront of his conscious he had no idea. Well, that was a lie – he knew full well why it was all but stuck on repeat in his mind.

He could not stop thinking about him.

They had first hooked up shortly after filming that episode of Do Not Adjust Your Set. It was a massive surprise to them both to wake in each other's arms; a tangled mess of arms, legs, and bed sheets after one hell of a pub crawl. It was all they could do to awkwardly escape the uncomfortable silence and the other's clutches…

I could have stayed in your embrace – I wanted to feel your lips, your caresses just one more time…

Both must have enjoyed it though – because they kept coming back for more – albeit after some liquid courage initially. However it soon became something they did sober more often than not… well at least on one side of the… relationship? He wasn't sure what label he could give them…

He haphazardly ran his elongated fingers through his long, blonde tresses; sighing heavily. When did it turn into something so meaningful? When did it seemingly suddenly become something he could not live without? When did he become like oxygen? And why?

There was just one small problem. Michael didn't love him…

Probably my fault for being so fucked up. Who in their right mind would love me?


Ring. Ring. Ring.

The shrill tone broke his chaotic thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Eric? It's Terry. Can you come and get Mike and take him home?"

On hearing this, Eric's slight irritation at the late night interruption turned into concern. Damn it all, but he loved Mikey. "Is he alright?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's just had a few too many drinks and maybe the odd joint. I would take him, but with Alison sick and everything I don't really want to leave her…"

"That's fine Tel, I understand. I can take him home."

"You sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure. I'll be there soon."

"Thanks Eric."

He placed the phone into its cradle. A look of sheer confusion, mixed with an ever-growing apprehension was etched in his features. Why did Terry sound practically sober and Michael smashed off his face? Michael wasn't a saint, but this seemed out of character. He certainly was not one to drink or smoke heavily if others weren't. And especially so when a social gathering wasn't taking place…

Maybe he was over-reacting. Terry didn't say Mikey was off his face, but certainly implied it.

I wonder why he needed to get hammered?


Eric slowly approached Michael. He was lying almost unconscious on Terry and Alison's couch in their living room. His fingers subconsciously found their way to the other man's dark brown hair; finger-brushing his growing fringe away from his eyes. "Oh hell Mikey – what have you done to yourself?"

"I've never seen him like this." A soft voice broke him out of his inner world. Terry had joined him in the living room.

Eric nodded in agreement, taking in Terry's observation and the obvious alarm he had toward his writing partner. "Did he say anything?"

Terry pondered this for a moment. "Nothing that I can think of. We were writing a sketch for Flying Circus… which was fine, but Mike seemed really down. Hence why he kept drinking and smoking like it was his last day on earth." He paused to take a breath, "I didn't really notice at first, and before I knew it he was wasted."

Eric nodded, watching his lover; his worry increasing tenfold. "So he didn't say anything at all? Even in his current state?"

Terry sighed as he shook his head. "He refused to talk to me. Me, his best mate. He should be able to tell me what's wrong. Oh yeah, I know blokes don't talk about problems, but we do when we're pissed."

Eric hummed in concern, getting on his knees to be at Michael's level on the couch. He shook him gently. "Mike? Michael?"

The only response from the sleeping man was a moan of protest. "Sleepy…"

"I know Mikey but I gotta take you home. You'll feel better in your own bed."

"S'comfy here Eric…"

"Come on Mikey time to go home…" He hesitated briefly before whispering something in his ear out of Terry's earshot. "We'll be alone, do you want that love?" That particular endearment he rarely allowed himself to use, in fear of his lover's reaction toward it.

He could see a sleepy grin form. "Okay – you can take me home any day Eric. You're sho shexy." He slurred, giggling.

"Sexy?" Terry asked, stunned.

Eric laughed his good mate off. "Come on Tel, you don't really believe him do you? The man is completely off his face, he's not exactly making any sense right now."

Terry shrugged, a sly grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. "Okay, that's fine… but doesn't the truth come out when one is inebriated?"

To his absolute horror, Eric felt his cheeks redden. "Oh fuck off Jonesy."

Terry chuckled, "Ease up mate, I'm only joking."

"Mike… get up."

The youngest member of the troupe slowly opened his eyes. "Do I 'av to?"

"Yes, if you don't want to feel completely wrecked tomorrow you do."

"Alright, alright Imma getting up."

Despite himself, his lover smiled. "Good. You right… I'll help you stand okay?"

"S'okay… Eric's gonna help me up Tel." He garbled, his words almost blending into something completely incoherent as Eric pulled him up, and immediately an intoxicated Michael swayed heavily and leaned into the blonde.

"I know mate. I'm sure Eric will look after you."

Michael grinned drunkenly; giggling. "Yesh he shure will. Ewic'shs very goosh at looking after me."

Terry laughed, "I'm sure he is." He turned to Eric, "You right with him?"

Eric nodded, "Yeah. If you could just get the door and we'll be on our way."

"Sure. Thank you."

"It's fine. You'll owe me one."

"Never get anything for nothing with you eh Idle?"

Eric chuckled, "Hit the nail on the head mate."


Although the drive from Terry's to Michael's apartment only lasted for ten minutes, Michael had – unsurprisingly – fallen asleep in the front passenger seat. Eric cut off the engine and he turned to watch a sleeping Michael.

"Why did you do it Mikey?" He murmured, more to himself than the slumbering Michael. "What's wrong love eh?" His fingers had again found their way to Michael's dark locks; curling their way through the soft strands and down the side of his face. They stopped at his left cheek, cupping it gently as he placed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Okay Mike, time to get you into bed." He hopped out of the car and walked over to the passenger door. He opened the door and reached over Michael's sleeping form to undo his seatbelt.

Michael stirred, whether it was the movement that disturbed him or his cologne, Eric wasn't sure. (He did hope that it was the latter.) He went to kiss Eric. "C'mon Ewic – give us a kiss…"

"When you're safely inside okay Mikey?"

"Aww you're no fun anymore."

Despite himself, Eric chuckled at this. "Perhaps. Out we get."

Michael giggled. He is most giggly when both somewhat stoned in addition to totally pissed. Eric mused; He's like a silly schoolgirl.

"You shmell s'good.. s'good…"

Eric couldn't help but blush at this; his cheeks maddeningly warming for a second time in half an hour. "Do I?" He asked, the words coming out of his mouth before his mind could really protest. Word filter Idle, damned idiot!

"Mhm, you shmell wunnerful."

He felt his cheeks grow warmer still. "Good to know." He replied, trying to act nonchalant, but his breath hitching at crucial moments gave him away. Not that Michael would have noticed in his current state.

On instinct he wrapped an arm around Michael's waist so he was somewhat steady on his drunken legs. In response Michael snuggled into the taller man's shoulder, seemingly quite content to stay there forever… well for the moment anyway. I could get used to this… Oh get a grip Idle, he's only doing it because he's off his face. This would never happen when he's sober…

Still, it's nice to think about…

Moments later, they were at his front door. "Where are your keys Mike?"

"Hmm?" Came the sleepy response.

"Keys Mikey? We need to get you inside so you can sleep it off."

His lover frowned. Then giggled. "Uh. Keys… pocket…"

Eric tried his best to refrain from rolling his eyes.

"I think…"

"Oh Mikey," Eric sighed, "What am I going to do with you eh?"

Michael puckered his lips; the worldwide tell-tale indicator for one wanting a kiss. "Kiss me Ewic, please?"

Oh hell…

"When we're inside." Eric told him, repeating his response from several minutes ago.

Mike pouted. And oh, even when drunk out of his mind, what a magnificent pout it was. "Aww Ewic…"

"Hush Mikey, we're almost there." He placated his drunken lover, as he finally found the keys and fumbled for the lock.

As soon as they had stumbled inside, Michael's lips were on Eric's – the latter had only just managed to turn on the light and close the door. Eric was rather taken aback by this – he wasn't usually quite this keen, despite his level of intoxication. "Michael…" He finally managed to get out inbetween his lover's wet kisses (and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't becoming affected by the onslaught). Damn it Mikey…

"You shaid t'wait til we're inshide…" He all but whispered in Eric's ear. "C'mon Ewic, kiss me…"

"You need to sleep Mikey."

That wonderful, damn near irresistible pout returned to Michael's features. "Aww don't want t'shleep. Want you…"

"You're wasted Mikey… it's not right." Hell Idle, you must really love him if you don't want to take advantage of him…

But will it ever happen when he's sober?

"C'mon Idle, want you, need you… so bad…"

Michael's lips found their way to his aficionado's. Oh fuck it… He kissed him back with eagerness this time, meeting the wet, clumsy but oh so fabulous kisses from his drunken lover. How on earth he can kiss so bloody well when off his face I have no idea.

They awkwardly stumbled their way to Michael's bedroom, clothes being removed and scattered about with careless abandon.

"You have no idea how fucking amazing you are Mikey." He all but whispered as he kissed his way down his lover's chest and torso, his hands toying with Michael's particularly sensitive nipples.

"Fuck Eric." Michael groaned; the tone of his voice unashamedly lustful. "S'good."

Eric looked up at this, a tender and loving smile turning the corners of his mouth. "Only the best for you Mikey." His lips now edging closer to where Michael needed it most.

"Oh god…" Mike moaned when Eric's soft mouth found its way to his fully erect member, his hands haphazardly clutching and twirling through the blonde curls of his lover.

Somewhere deep inside his mind Eric knew he should probably stop if he wanted to get his full dose of pleasure out of this encounter, however he was getting incredibly turned on just by pleasuring Michael. Fuck Idle, you have got it bad…

"Your turn Ewic."

Michael pulled him up to bring their lips together for a loving kiss, lapping greedily at his taste on Eric's tongue. Eric groaned into the kiss and bucked into Michael's hand as it suddenly wrapped itself around Eric's erection. "God Mike…"

His hand was pumping at a furious pace and Eric fast felt himself falling to the brink…

All of a sudden Michael removed his hand, causing Eric to sigh in frustration. He had been so close. "Ready now."

Eric opened a bedside drawer which he knew contained wonderful goodies designed for sex – lube, toys and condoms. Before getting together that drunken night, Eric would have never suspected Michael to be so… so open about sex. He grabbed a condom and put one on himself, and poured the lube onto his sheathed member. He edged one finger inside his lover, then two as he made sure that his hazel-eyed Michael was ready.

"Fuck Idle… need you inside me now." He's stopped slurring. Eric mused, suddenly realising this little fact. Amazing what happens during sex.

"Ooh demanding much love?" Eric teased, pouting.

"C'mon Eric… I love the feel of you inside me."

Eric kept his fingers inside for a little longer, and when he could no longer resist the feeling of being sheathed inside his lover; wanting more – he stopped and eased the tip of his penis to Michael's opening.

Being somewhat cautious at first, he slowly slipped himself into Michael and began to thrust gently. "Oh s'good Eric…"

When he spotted Michael's hand moving to stroke his rock hard member, Eric quickened his thrusts, unable to hold back any longer. "Fuck…"

"God Eric, don't stop."

"Cum for me Mikey, I know you're close."

"Fuck Eric…" Michael moaned as Eric hit his prostate again and again…

Nothing beats this feeling… nothing… he's so tight. So good…

"Fuck…" Michael came long and hard, his hot semen covering his hand and Eric's stomach. This was enough to trigger Eric's release that was so incredible he saw stars. Or perhaps that was due to not being with him for what felt like years. "Fucking hell Mikey."

There was a comfortable, sated silence for a few moments as both delighted in the most intimate act and the almost overwhelming feeling of pleasure that accompanied it. When Eric finally opened his baby blues he saw Mike gazing at him in an almost loving manner. Loving? Wishful thinking Idle.

"Well that was… pretty fucking good Idle." Michael said dreamily, his hands lazily finger-drawing across Eric's chest, as he kissed and licked Eric clean of his own juices.

Eric subconsciously took Michael's wandering hand and kissed his fingers tenderly. "Sure was Mikey." He agreed, easing himself out of his lover and allowing Michael to draw him into his embrace, falling onto him. This was quite possibly his favourite time with Mike – the moments immediately after sex – as he was most affectionate and gave himself permission to hold Eric – even if only for a few moments. But sometimes Eric was in Michael's embrace long enough for them to both fall asleep.

Eric felt himself quickly falling into slumber as Michael's fingers continued to draw over his body. He nestled a little deeper into his lover's warm chest and shoulder. Don't get too comfy Idle, you know what will happen if you're here in the morning…

"I should go…" He mumbled into Michael's warmth, kissing a spot just above his left nipple. He reluctantly left his oh so comfortable spot atop of Mike.

An arm halted him in his tracks, causing Eric to look at Michael in surprise. "Stay."

Eric's eyes widened in shock and he could practically feel his jaw drop to the floor.

"Please Eric, stay."

Eric allowed himself to be brought back to his original position lying atop of the other man. (Possibly from the shock as much as anything else.)

"Oh okay, but just for a little while." He finally replied sleepily. Bad idea Idle… you're practically asleep now… but he's so warm…

His eyes closed, and he could have sworn he heard someone say I love you as he drifted off…


Oh. God.

Fuck my head hurts… it feels like I've gone head first into a wall of bricks.

Michael wearily massaged the temples of his forehead which throbbed madly. He blearily opened his eyes, (that felt like they were full of sand), and no sooner were they open they were quickly forced shut again. What the hell happened last night?

Hell, am I even in my own bed? He sighed with relief when he realised it was indeed his own room. It was then he felt that he wasn't alone in the room. Who the hell did I shag last night? With a groan he slowly turned over…

"Oh. Fuck."

What have I done? Christ Palin you can't keep fucking Idle every time you get pissed. You'll give him the wrong idea…

You have to admit… why do you keep doing it?

Oh shut up!

He watched him for as long as he dared; his bare back facing him, that long blonde mop of curls hanging loosely and no doubt framing his face madly as is its want when sleeping. He did not want to analyse why he found a sleeping Eric slightly adorable. Ugh. Adorable Palin, really? "Eric?" He said, quietly and hesitantly at first. He didn't want to make his excruciating headache worse. "Eric?" This time his voice was a little louder, shaking him on the shoulder.

Eric shifted marginally, mumbling something incoherently, something impossible for Michael to make any sense of. "Bloody hell Idle, wake up already!" Mike snapped irritably (immediately cringing as he did so – his hangover not at all agreeable), most frustrated at how he allowed this to happen for the umpteenth time…

Although it does take two… and was he pissed too?

"Huh? Wha?" Eric did rouse at this rather unpleasant wake up call, his blue eyes looking quite madly round before seeming to recognise his sleeping partner. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on Mike?"

"Dunno. You want to tell me?"

Eric looked somewhat hurt at this reaction from his friend; his lover (even if Michael refused to admit it). I knew I should have left… but why is he being like this?

He focused again on Michael, noticing that he had now crossed his arms – a sign of his impatience. Best to pretend I was hammered too… I just hope his memory is really scratchy… "It looks like we had too much good drink and grass mate – it seems to be a deadly mix for us."

Michael grunted noncommittally, (putting his head in his hands (oh how Eric wanted to wrap an arm around him – he looked so fragile, however knew that this move would be unwelcomed)), making it hard for Eric to tell if he believed him or not.

"I seem to vaguely remember being over at Terry's for some writing, can't recall you there though. And somehow we ended up back here at mine… so how did we get here if both of us were smashed off our faces?"

Eric felt like Michael's hazel orbs were burning right through him. Believe it or not, Eric was not very good at lying – in fact he was quite hopeless at it. And he found it practically impossible to lie to those he felt closest to; especially Michael. He sighed, knowing he was busted. "Tel asked me to pick you up, he was real worried 'bout you."

"So you weren't pissed?" Fuck Idle… you better watch your answer here.

Eric shrugged, answering honestly. "I had had a few… but not enough to not be able to drive."

Well at least he didn't say he was stone cold sober.

"So you knew exactly what you were doing." It was not a question.

Eric's refusal to look him in the eye was enough for Michael. "Fucking hell Eric! You just don't take advantage of a guy like that. Fuck."

Eric felt about six years old again, getting the strap from his teacher at that prison of a school. "I'm sorry Mike…"

Michael was livid by this point. "You're sorry? Is that all you can say?"

"I tried Mike, but you were fucking refusing to let me go…"

"I was off my fucking face Idle! You could have easily shoved me off if you tried."

Eric got out of the bed, scrambling for his clothes. "Maybe I should just go…"

"Maybe you should. I guess I should thank you for getting me home safely last night…" He snapped venomously, those hazel eyes blazing intently.

Where has the lovely, easy-going Mike gone? This one's just nasty. Eric could no longer hold his own temper at bay and he let loose. "No problem mate. But this – what happened is not just my fault y'know. You wanted it so fucking badly last night, and no I could not have 'shoved you off' if I tried, because you were like a bloody rash, you were all over me. And I'm no fucking saint Mikey, you know that – especially when you say something like 'I love you' to me."

Michael stared at him, completely stunned. "I what?" He eventually stammered, unable to believe he said something like that – even drunk.

Eric nodded, and sat back down on the bed. "Maybe you need to take a close look at why you got so fucked last night." He sighed, his anger gone as quickly as it came. "Look Mike, it wasn't like you to get so wasted, I'm worried okay. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me. I only ask one thing of you… please just make up your mind one way or the other – because it's not fair how you toy with me like this. You either want this, or you don't."

With that, he made his way out of Michael's bedroom and sat in his car, somewhat unnerved by the turn of events. That could not have gone any fucking worse…

Michael hadn't moved from his spot on the bed. He just couldn't get over the shock at what Eric said that he had said in bed the night before. I did not say I love you to him…

Did I?

And am I really being such a downright bastard stringing him along like he says?

Course you are Palin – you have to stop this. He now seems to want more than I sure thought would happen…

Fuck, what on earth am I going to do?

Do I love him?


The next few days seemed to drag by for both Michael and Eric. Just going through the motions – up early for long days filming, arguments with producers, directors and the other Pythons about how the sketches should go, home late from said filming and meetings about the show and new sketches.

Michael was sure the others had noticed the almost palpable, simmering tension between Eric and himself. And it sure was not the delicious tension either. Far from it. Apart from when filming for the show, Eric refused to speak to him. (That said, Mike himself was not forthcoming in wanting to speak with Eric either.) Michael couldn't really blame him either… while he was still incredibly angry at him for taking advantage of him when he was so vulnerable, he had not helped any by being so… slutty; throwing himself at Eric when inebriated.

In fact, the others had definitely picked up on the frosty atmosphere between the two. He had noticed the strange, concerned looks between his fellow Pythons. It was near on impossible, particularly when Mike was as close to Eric's closest friend as possible given Eric's tendency to not really allow anyone in, despite his outwardly vivacious and bubbly personality.

"Okay Mike, what the hell is going on between you and Eric? I hate seeing you so miserable and distracted, and he seems exactly the same – and moody as fuck to boot." Terry said as he sat down beside his writing partner to stop for a break from filming.

Michael sighed, "Your point Tel?"

"My point is that neither of you are like yourselves lately. What's the matter Mike? None of us like seeing you guys like this."

Just leave it alone Terry… I don't want to talk about it. It's between me and Idle.

"Is it really any of your business; isn't it between Eric and me?"

Terry sighed deeply, an almost desperate attempt to keep his quick fire temper from rising to the surface. He was most worried about them, particularly Mike. They were both quiet, sullen and moody – a complete contrast to their personalities at the best of times. "Perhaps ordinarily. But it kind of becomes our business when it's affecting Python. Besides, I'm worried Mike, this isn't like you."

"Leave it be Tel. We'll sort it out in our own time and I can't speak for Eric but I'll try to not let it affect my work so much."

Terry nodded, not quite believing, yet willing to trust his dear friend regardless. "Okay Mike, but hell, get it out of your system before it really impacts us alright?"

"How would it do that Terry?"

"Well, worst case scenario is that the tension between you two becomes so unbearable it splits up the group."

"Oh come off it Terry, there are always arguments between us. Fuck, you and Cleese are always arguing! It's hardly likely to fundamentally damage Python." Michael countered angrily. He was fed up with this conversation, fed up with the constant looks between the other guys, fed up with the constant thoughts rattling around in his mind about Eric, fed up with everything.

"That's just professional disagreements Mike; this seems more… more personal or something."

Oh if only you knew. You have no fucking idea…

"Terry, can you just let it be? You don't know anything about it so just drop it!"

"Fine Palin! Have it your way!" Terry couldn't help but feel a little hurt by Mike's outburst. Still, something had to be said. It was getting downright awful between the pair, with either refusing to speak to the other unless in a scene.

Michael was about to get up and leave, but something held him back. There was something in Terry's dark eyes that made him take notice. He couldn't quite put a label on it, but those brown eyes were ablaze with emotion. A mix of concern, ire and something else. Or was that just his shattered, exhausted mind playing tricks?

Before he knew what was happening, he leaned in and kissed him. There was nothing tentative about this onslaught; his overwrought emotions got the better of him and he was kissing him with vigour.

Terry for his part was most definitely shocked at seeing Mike approach him so closely and place his lips atop of his own. He was too stunned to realise the full extent of what was truly happening… he was being kissed by his best friend; a man no less. It felt so different from Alison's – rougher, he could feel Michael's growing stubble on his chin and he could taste the flavour of nicotine mixed with coffee from his kisses. Something he hadn't experienced with his wife…

"Michael… what the fuck did you do that for?" Terry stammered when he came to his senses.

Later, Michael would reflect that he did it mostly because he was so confused about his feelings for Eric. It was something he just had to do to see if he had sexual feelings – if he was turned on by any other men, or if it was just Eric.

Michael had turned a bright red and could hardly look his writing partner in the eye. "I don't know… I'm sorry Tel."

"Fucking hell Mike. I never knew you were into men that way…"

Michael shrugged, completely at a loss at what to say that could possibly explain why he just kissed his best friend.

"Sorry Tel." It seemed to be the only thing that his mouth could say.

"Maybe I'm not the one you should be apologising to." Terry eventually said, gesturing with his facial expression to his left.

Michael could not believe his eyes. Eric was standing there, seemingly frozen to the spot with the saddest look etched in those baby blues.

Fuck… how much did he see?

He had a strong inkling that that expression would be forever imprinted in his mind.

"Eric…"

"Don't Michael. Just don't."

The end… or TBC… you decide. :)