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Mike entered the hotel room, his body feeling heavy and bone tired. The high from the concert they had just ended not even 1 hour before was already starting to fade, replacing the energy to a deep, bone tiredness.
He passed a hand through his dyed blue hair, inhaling deeply, when a sudden noise made him jump. He immediately relaxed as he saw who it was.
The door of the room opened and closed immediately, a beam of light from the hall illuminating the two twin beds of the room, before thin arms wrapped around his body and a face got buried in his back.
“Hey there, buddy,” he greeted with a gentle smile, one hand carefully going to stroke through Chester's bleached blond hair, still spiky from the typical hairstyle he wore for the shows.
“Nu-uh!” Mike looked down at the angry sound, coming face to face with a pouting, annoyed Little, “no touch my haiw!” Chester weakly pushed away Mike's hand, his scowl deepening as the man chuckled.
“Alright, alright, you little hedgehog. C’mon,” he carefully picked him up, feeling his arms wrap around his shoulders and legs wrap around his waist, “Let's get you bathed, should we?”
Mike walked towards the bathroom, his demeanor calm, even if internally he was already ready for war; for some reasons that were out of Mike's knowledge and understanding, Little Chester hated bath time.
It was always a war; screams and cries were the usual soundtrack, worsening if Chester was even a tiny bit more tired than usual, which was the exact scenario of that night, all things considered.
By the time Mike had switched the light on and locked the door, to prevent Chester to escape, the little singer's body was visibly trembling; he saw the way Chester's eyes had filled with tears and how his bottom lip, which had first been pushed out in a pout was now trembling, the light catching on the ring splitting in half his bottom lip.
“Aw, Ches, it's okay!” Mike knew his reassurances were pretty useless; when in headspace, it wasn't like he could really discuss and explain things to him, especially if he was so worked up.
The tub had finally filled enough, steam rising from the water, bubbles filling it, something that Mike hoped -even though he knew how unlikely it was gonna be- would calm down his upset best friend.
“It's okay,” he whispered again, quickly but carefully shedding all his clothes and lifting him back up in his arms; Chester immediately curled up against his front, arms tightly wrapping around the man's shoulder, tightening more and more as he got lowered into the water.
His pouting had become a full blown crying, his dark eyes wide and fearful as they looked at Mike; it broke the man's heart. Mike would never purposely hurt him, but he also needed to clean him. No way in hell he would let him go to sleep with dried sweat all over his skin.
If Chester woke up Big the next morning, he would kill the other man for that.
And Mike was Chester's caretaker when the singer was little. He just wished the smaller man wouldn't be so terrified of a bath.
Showers, had found Mike, were somehow even worse: the singer would wriggle so much, trying to escape, that the chances of him falling and getting hurt were too high.
He had tried everything he could think of, from bath toys, loads of bubbles, relaxing music and dimmed lights to bathing with him so he could relax against his chest, but nothing could stop the bone deep fear he experienced during that time.
Mike had even thought that maybe it was the fact of staying naked that was so upsetting to him, but the Little had no problems with diaper changes or running around the house butt naked.
The problem only arose at bath time.
The man's heart kept breaking over and over the more his Little cried; the look on Chester's face was one of pure anguished upset. He was openly sobbing and crying, his head thrown back and big powerful sobs making his whole body shake.
“It's okay, Ches, it's okay, Mikey's done.” Mike quickly shut off the shower, immediately grabbing the big fluffy bathrobe he used for the little version of his best friend: it was very soft and a soft baby blue shade; his cap also had little pointy ears, that made Chester look like Sonic the Hedgehog.
The singer immediately lifted his arms towards him, making grabby hands. Mike lifted him up, wrestling his arms gently inside the sleeves and tying the sash in the front, finally sitting him on his hip.
“Alright, bud, let's get some milky in your tummy, should we?” He whispered gently, lips softly brushing his forehead; he unlocked the door and got out of the bathroom, holding the Little protectively in his arms.
Chester had regressed more than usual; he was closer to his newborn headspace rather than toddler, so Mike knew milk would be the best option for him.
He laid him on one of the twin beds, earning a small whiny whimper; “just getting you ready for bed, baby boy,” murmured softly the man, looking down at him with a smile. Chester's hands had closed into loose fists and his pinched expression was slowly becoming calmer.
Mike experiencedly diapered him, soothingly rubbing vanilla smelling lotion on his sore muscles, before carefully slipping him in a full, footed pajamas.
“Look how pretty my baby boy is!” His heart felt warmer now, hearing the sleepy, happy giggle leaving Chester's lips, his dark eyes shining happily.
“Coming back really soon,” Mike stood up, gathering the discarded bathrobe, and rushed to the bathroom. He quickly drained and rinsed the tub and quickly brushed his teeth. A thought of brushing Chester's flashed in his mind, but he quickly discarded it: the last thing he wanted was to upset him again, especially now that he had finally calmed down.
He slipped back in the room, smiling gently as his eyes met the other man's. Making quick work to change in his own pajamas, Mike turned off the main light, leaving only the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
He grabbed the pre-heated baby bottle from the room's desk, and quietly crawled in the bed alongside his best friend.
“Here comes the milky, Ches,” carefully, oh so carefully, he fit the rubber nipple between his parted lips, mindful of the piercing; Chester immediately began to suckle, his eyes closing, his eyelashes gently fluttering against his cheeks. One hand wrapped in the front of Mike's pajama shirt, almost as he wanted to ground him there.
Gently, the man began to rock, one strong hand holding the bottle at the perfect tilt, his eyes never leaving Chester's peaceful, delicate features as he suckled the warm milk, all his defenses pulled down.
Mike couldn't help the affection swelling his heart.