PRIVATE SCREENING (mj imagine) ― 🎥
badangerous!michaeljackson x fem!reader
setting: november 1989, neverland ranch
synopsis: because you and michael usually can't go out for date night, he surprises you with a private screening of disney's latest film, the little mermaid, at neverland's home theater.
genre: fluff, slice of life
note: also published on wattpad (@/hotstreet) in my imagines book, dreamers ! ⊹ ࣪ ˖
Disney has just released their latest animated film, The Little Mermaid. There had been very modest and minimal promotion, but when you discovered it, you told your boyfriend, Michael, that you wished to see it with him. This, unfortunately, is not a possibility because of his global fame and good standing. Whenever he goes out with false aspirations for a private adventure out on the town, there's nowhere or way for him to hide because of how recognizable his gait, build, and voice is. Especially his laugh. That unrestrained, buoyant, and obnoxiously loud laugh, so specific to him, gives Michael away every time.
However, because you're his girl, he wants to grant your request. Perhaps not in the way you had originally desired and expressed to him, but grant it nonetheless. So, at Bill's wise suggestion, he capitalized on that two-edged, global fame and good standing that usually keeps your date nights out of populated locations, and pulled a string or two.
Michael skillfully managed to convince the Walt Disney company to benevolently provide him with a copy of the film on a VHS tape, so the two of you can have a private screening in Neverland's home theater. After all, he has garnered them much attention in the past and is an avid Disney connoisseur, so this was really the least they could do.
You've just gotten home from an evening appointment at the salon, which Michael insisted Bill drive you to and from. Although you have your own place, you spend most of your time at the ranch with Michael and practically live there. The clothes, shoes, and accessories pertaining to your personal style appropriating a portion of his closet, your snacks of choice stowed away in his kitchen, and your hair products and cosmetics put away in his bathroom like easter eggs all left bold, undeniable clues of you.
Since the Bad World Tour ended a few months back, he's made it a point to be more available for you. During that time, your relationship had suffered much abuse at the hands of incompatible schedules, time differences, delays, missed phone calls, minimal meetings, and petty arguments fueled by high stress and sleepless nights, which would subsequently lead to him ignoring you.
He has always avoided confrontation.
But, now that he's home, you both wordlessly purposed to rebuild all that had been crushed like sandcastles, and this small, but meaningful gesture of a movie night is one of those efforts.
Michael had been tinkering in his home studio while you were away, but now that he sees you peek into the room and knows you've returned, he sets his work aside to spend a comfortably quiet evening in with you. "Hi, baby," A smile blooms on his makeup-free face as he steps out of the studio, already in pajamas, and pulls the door shut behind him, meeting you in the foyer of the building that also housed his private theater and arcade.
You had a feeling you would find him here.
"Like it?" You ask as he approaches you, referring to your hair. "Yeah, 's nice. It looks real nice." He compliments, getting a good look at the style and gently handling it with his nimble fingers. "Kathy did a good job." Michael remarks in regards to your trusted stylist. He absentmindedly bites his velvety bottom lip, preoccupied with your hair now. You chuckle at his intense focus, placing a kiss on his cheek and eliciting a soft, slightly bashful laugh from him.
He gives you a gentle peck on your lips, hands coming to rest on your upper arms, "I've got a surprise for you." You give him a hesitantly curious look, "A surprise? For what?" He chortles at your uncertainty, "Date night, remember?" Michael takes your hand, "Come. I'll show you. 'S in the theater."
As he leads you a few feet to the door of the cinema, he changes his mind and stops. "Actually, let's get you in pajamas first. You wanna be comfortable." You follow his lead, skeptical but trusting enough as he turns towards the exit. A passive, but genuine smile finds permanent residence on his lips. "Are you hungry?" He asks as the both of you walk to the main house. "There's some enchiladas in the kitchen. Akasha made 'em." He explains. Akasha Richmond was his private chef during the Bad tour, who still cooks for Michael on occasion.
Before you can reply, he pipes up again, "Y'know what, I'll jus' get you a plate. And if you don't want it, I'll eat it." He quirks his brows and you chuckle while shaking your head. It isn't until you make it inside the house that he lets go of your hand. "Meet me in the theater when you're done changin'." Instructs Michael, and then the two of you split off in separate directions.
Back in the mainly empty, dimly-lit auditorium, you find him sitting close to the front. He has a blanket, your favorite drink, and a warmed plate of red enchiladas. "What are we watching?" You ask, coming to sit beside him. "You'll see." He replies, giving you the blanket. He goes up to the projector, which was connected to the VHS player encasing the exclusive, one-of-a-kind and specially requested tape. Michael presses play and promptly trots back to his spot, right beside you. You share the blanket with him, curious as to which film it is. Initially, you expect Peter Pan out of habit, but then recollect that Michael called it a "surprise," meaning it must be something new.
He watches you more than the screen, anticipating a reaction with a knowing smile on his face. "What is this?" You inquire, at a loss as you study Disney's signature, opening frame. Michael's amused smile expands a fraction, "Jus' keep watchin'." As the film begins, you silently study the first, nautical scene—an old-timey ship out at sea, with singing sailors and a dashing prince. A small, wonderful gasp passes from your lips, an inkling developing within you. Could it be? But, how could it be? The other part of you admonishes your doubt, knowing that after all, it is Michael.
He can do many extraordinary things the majority can't.
"This is The Little Mermaid, isn't it?" You realize, looking at him. He nods, chortling, "Yeah. I asked 'em to send me a copy." He then sheepishly adds, "I guess I should also confess that it was Bill's idea…." You smile, kissing him, "You're so sweet. I'll have to tell 'im thank you. I can't believe they sent it to you…. But, at the same time, you are Michael Jackson, so I guess that counts for something." Michael's heart soars at your approval, satisfied that you are satisfied. "Since we got the tape, you can watch it whenever you want. Figure you'll probably wanna see it a couple o' times."
"Oh, I'm gonna play the hell out of this thing." You remark, making him chuckle. "I'm gonna memorize this whole script, know all the songs… you're gonna be sick of me." You tell him. "Oh, boy. The whole thing? What have I done? You're gonna be beltin' it all around the house." He jests, an instinctive grin brightening his countenance in the dark environment.
Yet in this moment, within that brilliant mind of his, he questions how he could possibly become sick of you, when just the prospect of his baby singing Disney songs through the halls like a princess, or quoting an applicable line from the film during whatever moment you later find yourselves in, is already so charming?
