| The Night We Met - Part 2
| Pairing: Off the Wall! Micheal Jackson x Time Traveler fem! reader
| A/N: Hey guys *gulp* long time no see. I know it's been a while, so don't skin me alive, but I've genuinely been shot multiple times a day by this online class I'm taking. It's been hell and basically what's been keeping me from y'all. However, I got ahead and managed to get to a good place for part two before I post. I have a way I want this to end so I see more parts coming in the future, but all that really just depends on how invested everyone is. Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy. This is a work of fiction; I do not claim to know any of the people stated in this story and it's for purely entertainment purposes only.
| Genres: mostly Fluff
| Summary: Micheal Jackson meets you, a confused and not very talented time traveler, one breezy autumn night in the streets of his neighborhood. You manage to intrigue and concern him enough to earn an invite back to his family home, Hayvenhurst, where you learn more about the timeless star in one night, then you had ever known in your life, all while trying your best to keep your own secrets under wraps. The experience, as confusing as it is, leaves you often times bewildered, charmed, and sometimes even a little flustered.
| Warnings: cussing; a little suggestive at times; barley proof-read
| WC: 4.0k~
| Tag list:
@stqrzz @backupschmuck @lesbianmommyyy @ange1fce @commaanders @xyahx @maeheeheeve @crustypatatos
Part 1 Part2
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The walk back to his house was stimulating…to say the least. You were surprised how readily conversation came with a celebrity like Micheal.
Well, once you could finally pick your jaw off the ground that is.
It was weird.
He was just as sweet as most people in his life had described. You noted that much when he noticed you rubbing your arms, guarding them from cold, and offered his jacket unwarranted.
You obliged of course, I mean who wouldn't?
Yet, Micheal was also kind of quirky in a way that was uniquely…him and yet, at least you believed, had never really been well described. Shoot you’d think if someone tried to ask you what he was like themselves you’d find it difficult to describe in its own right too.
He was like a puzzle that was easy to put together at the moment, but once completed, it would suddenly become harder to visualize as a bigger picture.
Sort of like when people would say that the true art of a piece is in its interpretation, the problem being you doubted anyone had truly managed to figure out Micheal in his entirety.
It didn't stop you from trying though.
Micheal was very informative; he offered you loads of facts about…. anything really--when prompted and certainly when not. Said information encompassing anything from the neighborhood he lived in to Louis, who was still walking languidly in front of y’all in a way you were surprisingly becoming accustomed too.
More characteristically though, his most notable feature being his surprising meddlesome nature you couldn’t quite ignore.
It was easy to tell he cared little for talking about himself. Maybe it came from years of the ever-growing attention and fame he had received his entire life. But realistically, whatever the true reason being, unbeknownst to you. It was acute, but easily noticeable in the way he would always try to redirect the conversation to back you.
What do YOU like to do?
What are YOUR plans for after tonight?
Honestly, it would have been probably hard to notice, if each question didn’t grow increasingly more inquisitive and prying than the last. Conversing had quickly started to feel more like an interrogation than a friendly Q&A.
You didn’t know if you found it amusing or concerning.
Regardless, you had made a promise to yourself about these sorts of things.
You had rules mandatory for protecting the fragment of time and space as you knew it. You wouldn’t necessarily call yourself well endowed in the world of time travel and the whole einstein special relativity of things, but you had an idea about how messy it could potentially get. That was enough for you to act accordingly, so Micheal Jackson or not, you didn’t plan on telling him much about your real life.
After all, if anyone had the means to fact check, it would be the likes of him.
And worst of all, you couldn’t blame even if you wanted to.
I mean how could you?
How many people has Michael allowed into the haven your sure was his home?
And what if you're the only one to have been graced by it?
You shivered at that thought, the weight of the interaction you are soon to have beginning to already feel heavy on your shoulders.
The air must have rung with silence then, because Micheal would soon turn his head in your direction from your side and wave his hand over your face.
He had been speaking to you. Of course....
And you had just tuned out the King of Pop.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look you thought had been wiped clean off his face a while ago.
You didn’t miss its return.
“Oh, uh yeah... just thinking.”
“Thinking about what?”
There goes the prying
He probably just wants some reassurance— you rationalize, so you guess it would only be fair to ease his mind—you tell yourself. And you quickly decide it’s time dampens his curiosity, well at least by a little bit.
“Uh...just about how we don’t know much about each other”
“Oh really? Some might say I've been trying to solve that problem all night?” He states in faux absentmindedness. Even going as far to look around into the night sky and whistle out an unconfrontational and playful tune.
He was right and a bit smug about it too.
Who would’ve thought?
“I guess you have” you reply back in defeat.
"I was kind of out of it then, I'm tuned in now though."
“You always prepare all your conversations with silence and deep thought?” He snickered at your indifference, finding it surprisingly endearing.
“Only the ones that center around me.”
“Well, whenever you're ready, I am VERY interested in learning about who you are.”
When you do decide to indulge, you chose to keep the basic undefined parts of your life–well…honest.
For instance, it turns out you and Michael were similar in age: you mentioned you were 20 and he quickly expressed that he had just turned 21 a few weeks ago. You didn’t miss the opportunity to wish him a happy belated birthday and you thought you had hallucinated the faint red that dusted his cheeks in response.
Then you briefly described to him your time in school for engineering. He seemed mildly impressed by that fact but cared little for it compared to when he found out you had minored in dance. Face lighting up instantly, eager to engage with that part of the discussion.
you shut it down abruptly though, you had to.
Not because you were lying–No.
And honestly, if you were being honest, you were beginning to understand the gravity of the situation you were in with Micheal. He was THE dance inspiration. You felt true shame putting that side of you to rest when you wanted nothing more to indulge and potentially learn from the likes of him.
But there are rules to this.
And at the end of the day, you refused to elaborate on anything else regarding the matter in fear he’d ask for more information about where you attended.
It still sucked seeing his face drop at your response, or lack of one though. Fortunately, he seemed to recover pretty quickly from the whole ordeal and likely dismissed your cold shoulder for timidness.
On the other hand, as for more exposing questions like where you lived and your name?
Well, you planned on having a little fun with them.
Y’know, since you were going to be lying anyways.
When Micheal asked what city, you grew up in, you replied back “New York” --you’ve never been in your life. When he asked for your name, you couldn’t stop thinking about the name Diana and when it had tumbled out of your mouth, you tried extremely hard to suppress a smile.
Micheal, oblivious to your antics, went on and on about all the other Dianas that he had known, some more pleasant to hear about than others, but the entire time you found it incredibly difficult to listen. Too busy keeping a childish chuckle from erupting from your lips at any moment. You should feel guilty, you KNOW you should, but honestly it was either that or Billie Jean and the latter seemed too obvious.
As you walked and conversed, his house began to slowly come into vision, Michael would eagerly point out such as soon as it did.
And when you looked, you were astonished by the stature of it to say the least.
You'd think you shouldn’t have been, honestly, every house in this neighborhood was huge. Micheal's, on the other hand, was another beast entirely. It was a Tudor styled, large compound of a place. You're sure if you screamed from one end of the home, the sound would barely travel to the other. And as you stared you found yourself lost in thought again, until you had practically arrived and had taken the sound of Micheal’s voice to snap you back to reality.
“Well won’t you look at that…we are already here!” he says with a polite smile and arms spread wide in a Tada fashion. It earned him a subtle giggle from you.
“Well, it’s very nice” you replied back as he holds the gate for you to enter, you thank him as you do.
There was a beautiful garden outfront, one that held some of the most exotic resting birds you had ever seen. You tried not to gawk too loudly at them for you could tell a general sense of silence had blanketed the compound. You could only assume the quietness had come with the late hour.
Micheal made a quick stop at a small stable on the property, presumably to put Louis away before he slept. He made fun of you when you opted to wait outside, afraid of going toe to toe with a llama and potentially losing again.
I mean who could blame you?
You were adamant on wishing Louis sweet dreams from outside, away from him and his short temper.
When Micheal was done he gently grabbed your arm to signal your attention, but before you could respond he placed his pointer finger to his lips in a silent hush, before whispering something.
“I think everyone is asleep. I’d rather not wake them up trying to sneak a girl into my house, so we have to be quiet, okay?”
You nod before whispering back, “Not great optics, I get it.”
A small smile creased his face in response, before he gently tugs you in the direction of the back door of the estate. When he opens it you two, hurriedly and hushed, make your way to his bedroom upstairs. Micheal making it a point to drag you in the appropriate direction anytime you found yourself intrigued by the interior of the home and both of you breaking for a quiet sprint every time an unsuspecting sound was heard.
When you two had finally found sanctuary behind the four walls of his room, Michael's back was against the door, as if he needed to be sure that none of the outside world could break into what he was guarding and his eyes were squeezed shut in relief.
You, on the other hand, had your hands on your knees–attempting to catch your breath staring bullets into his carpeted floor.
When you finally looked up Michael's eyes were long opened and already on you. The contact made you both let out an exasperated laugh before looking away. Micheal had pushed himself off the door in your direction and you had managed to grapple off your knees.
“Sorry it's a bit of a mess in here. I wasn’t exactly expecting any company so…” he says while rubbing the back of his neck from nerves.
The statement prompts you to look around his bedroom.
It was extremely homey, like the rest of the house, messy maybe? But more lived in.
Micheal children's books were scattered softly at one end of the room. Some opened and many of the pages left loved and worn. He had a television in his room too, you could hear the soft hum of an old tv show playing in the background. It lit up with laughter every time something presumably funny occurred. Disney memorabilia adored his shelves, and the stuffed animals had decorated his bed. When your eyes shift back to him, you could see the flood of anxiety wash back over his face.
You're beginning to believe he doesn't like not knowing what you think.
“No, you're good. You should see my place when no one is around.” you reply back quickly, afraid he'd overcomplicate your drawn-out silence.
He snickers at that.
“I’m sure it's lovely” he replies back earnestly, you only nod in response as you continue to stare. Micheal leans his back against his vanity while facing towards you, watching your eyes drift from every corner of the room in intrigue.
“You can take a closer look if you like.”
“Wait, really?!” You exclaimed, turning your head to face him in excitement and when eye contact is made, Micheal finds himself unable to control what comes out of his mouth next.
“Yeah even touch” He blurts out, more quickly than he attended. It was loud and out of place, and honestly made you raise your eyebrow at him in suspicion. Micheal could only gulp in response and hope you didn’t notice it.
You did, but chose not to dwell on it, figuring he was far too much of a generous host then what even he could account for.
“It's okay. I prefer to stare”
You began to walk around, your eyes gently scoping out his well-polished figurines. You stepped over boardgames laid haphazardly on his warm carpet, before picking up a game of twister tucked neatly away in a shelf somewhere.
“Holy shit...I haven’t played this in years!”
“What twister?” he chuckles. “It’s my favorite, I haven’t played it much recently because of work, but I’m always looking for a partner.” He states, raising his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.
You grin at his response before replying back sarcastically
“How about Louis? He seems like he’d be a pro?”
“Yeah, too much of one! He’d be kind of a cheat, y’know? being quadrupedal and all that.”
You laugh back
“Yeah... I guess I didn't think about it like that.”
“See partnerless” He states while shrugging casually.
You only stare back with an eyebrow raised in return.
“So…You're telling me...in this big, large house there is not a SINGLE person who has time to play twister with THE Micheal Jackson.” You volley.
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” he replies back quickly.
The tone is obviously light, probably enforced more for your comfort than anything. The words themselves, on the other hand, carried a bit more weight in a way he was quick to brush past.
You didn’t press on.
“Uh... okay? How about any other animals, I know you must got a zoo.”
“Got a zoo? You're starting sound like my mother.” he quips
“Then I must be saying something right.” You turn to face him completely before clasping your hands at your front and slightly rocking backwards.
"Alright then... hit me... which one?” you ask with a shrug.
"Well, I guess I do play with Bubbles sometimes...” Micheal mentions while placing a finger on his chin as he recalls.
“Bubbles? Whose Bubbles?”
“My monkey.”
“Right right….” You say sarcastically, because of course he would have one.
“Well, anybody else would be impractical. My elephant and giraffe are too big, and don’t let me get started on my snak-”
You quickly interrupt knowing well enough by now how he gets on his rants, with your hands raised up in mock surrender.
“OKAY... Micheal, I believe you. you're low on options.”
“Sorry I ramble when I get nervous...” he says while chewing lightly on his bottom lip. Eyes darting anywhere, but up at yours.
“Nervous? Why would you be nervous?”
“I- don’t know?” He practically laughs out as he shrugs.
It’s hilarious you think. Micheal Jackson is nervous to speak to you. For what reason you have no clue. You’d be clueless not to point out the irony though.
“If anything, I should be nervous, I'm in Michael Jackson's bedroom.”
“I know...” He responds, gigglier and more unsure than his last admission.
In no time, you find yourself unreasonably gigglesome as well. Your words seamlessly tumbling from your lips in the way you, funny enough, something you thought was characteristic of Micheal.
“I mean how many people can say that huh?” You state more to yourself than him. “That they’ve been in THE Micheal Jackson's bedroom.”
“Yeah…exactly that” he whispers, suddenly disquieted. A small silence follows after that statement, then a larger one when a weird admission breaks the initial one.
“I'm starting to realize nobody has been up here before…” He meekly states.
There it is again one of those half-joke half-truths retorts he lets slip from time to time. They always had a funny way of shifting the air of the conversation. Like a cold draft washing over a warm summer day. A random chill at its surface, but more than anything something likely indicative of a bigger storm approaching. His words kind of stilled the room.
You think he can’t help himself, the way these small droplets of reality slip into every conversation, but in the same breath he seems desperate for you to ignore them. He looks especially that way now, as nervous as ever, worried sick that he may have made his guest uncomfortable. You watch him wipe his large hands against his jeans as a stretch of silence fills the room before he attempts to explain further.
You don’t let him.
“Well, there is a first time for everything. I hope you don’t regret it being me”
Micheal’s once tense composure evaporated instantly. His face broke out into a grin that you could only describe as picture-esque as he let his head, and thus his gaze dropped to the carpeted floor of his bedroom bashfully.
You missed seeing it.
His smile was truly one of his best features.
You wondered if he knew that.
It reminded you of one of the many stories your aunt would detail about her and your mother's youth. Now that you think about it, she did mention a Jackson 5 phase that lasted for a little bit. She had even gone to see them on tour at some point. And boy for how short the phase was, man did she reckon your mother and herself obsessed. To this day, she'd gush about how much her and your mother loved the band. Going as far to reveal all the little fangirly things she’d caught your mom doing in private. It never failed to make you crack up, the way your mother would grow all red and fuming with embarrassment. Still so shy and over conversation before it ever even really got started, despite it being years ago.
Your aunt on the other hand, had always said that all the boys were handsome, but Michael in particular had a smile that would make any girl lose their minds. As a child, laid on your stomach of your grandmother's floor, you had always assumed she was just being dramatic. You’d only ever been happy at most to receive a smile from a boy.
You didn’t get it.
You think if she saw you now, all confused and warm in face at just a glimpse of his, she wouldn’t miss the opportunity to laugh at you.
It was a weird feeling because being timid had never been your trademark.
You heard it came often with adolescence and maybe even more so with young adulthood, but it had never really greeted your door.
Well, at least not in that way.
This was foreign....
It was as if one look was all he needed to strip your defenses bare.
It was intense, but you convinced yourself it was temporary, merely a moment.
An experience shared between a girl and the most famous boy she’ll ever meet or really know.
Yeah...that had to be it. you were star struck is all.
You were so caught up in the feeling, you almost didn't hear the sound of Michael's response, his voice suddenly becoming clear enough to break the tension shared between the two of you.
“Yeah, I guess” he replies back with a casual shrug. You assumed it was a silent suggestion to move past whatever this was and you oblige more than willingly. Looking swiftly around his room for a better conversation starter, a record player across his room and a vinyl rack laying closely beside it catches your attention.
You can’t help but think that this would probably belong in a museum if you were back in your own timeline. You keep forgetting how crazy this whole situation seems and as much as you would like to gawk at it, it's enough of a curiosity to start a conversation.
"Is that a record player?”
“Uh... yeah? Do you not have one?”
“Oh no, I do actually. It was a hand me down from my mom and from the looks of it like y'all got similar taste in music.”
Micheal raised an eyebrow at that before sitting up from his vanity a little.
“Really? Like what?” he says with his arms crossed over his chest in curiosity. It’s lace with something else you can’t quite place.
“Uhm” you exasperate as you glance over at him for permission, he grants it and you start skimming through the vinyls on his rack.
“See right here. It looks like you have some Temps, Four Tops-- OH and the Supremes are a fav of hers.”
“She’s got good taste.”
“Yeah, she thinks so... I’m not a big fan.”
“Oh okay, what floats a young woman such as yourself boat?” He playfully inquires.
“I doubt I’d find anything in here.”
“Try” he states casually.
You only stare back at him with a confused and playful grin.
Sure, you’ll bite.
Even though you are certain prime Flo Milli will not be found in his lineup.
As you return to searching, you eventually come across Micheal’s “Off the Wall” album and quickly pull it off of the rack.
“I guess could get down with something like this” you state while playfully rolling your eyes, making sure to hold the vinyl up so it’s visible to him. When he notices he can’t help but smile wildly in response. He’s almost scared to ask but he does anyway.
“You…uh-you listened to it?”
“Maybe one or two songs” you quip
“I don’t believe you.”
“Oh wow… it's like that?” You gasp out in mock offense.
“Yup, you just said you're not a big fan of my music taste, so how could I possibly believe you like anything I put out?” he teases. You think he may even be pouting the way his head slightly faces away from you and his arms are crossed tight across his chest.
You sigh in response before replying back earnestly “well I do.”
“Prove it.”
“How!?” You basically laugh out. Arms stretched in front of you in disbelief.
“What’s your favorite song?”
“Looove Don’t Stop till You Get Enough”
“Too popular” He shrugs playing up disinterest.
“Well, it is some of your best work.”
“Try again.”
“Wha-Okay fine. You want niche I’ll give you niche” You take a moment to pause and think about all the songs in the album before relying back “She’s Out of my Life is good”
Micheal takes a moment to analyze your response, pointer finger and thumb rubbing his chin as he does such. When it finally looks like he's done, he attempts to open his mouth in a reply, but just as quickly gets cut off by the ringing of the phone attached to the wall of his room.
He glances over at his landline then back to you and when you make eye contact again you can tell his mind is a mixture of a lot of different thoughts. He stares deeply as if he’s hoping you’ll tell him to not go. To stay focused on you, but that never comes, you wouldn’t dare. And once he’s realized that isn't the case and the blaring ring becomes more adamant than ever in the dead of night, he sighs, dropping his head before rubbing it and mouthing that he’ll “be right back”.
You only watch him walk slowly to the phone, before answering it.
From what you can make out it seems it has to do with work. Micheal is as professional as ever, his frame leaning against the wall while he twirls the wire in his hands. When he’s finally done he turns to you, hand on his hips and you feel you already know what he’s about to say.
“So uhh...I just got a call from work-and uhh Q, my producer, wants to run back over some vocals, since they got corrupted.”
You only nod in response as he talks.
“It’s late so he said I could probably just drop by in the morning, but recording is on a tight schedule, and I’d rather not get beh-”
“It's okay Micheal I get it”
He only nods, before quickly responding “But- if you need anything please call.”
“Micheal It’s almost 12:00 am. I think I’ll be asleep”
“Right... That right”
“Plus, I don’t think I should overstay my welcome, I’ll probably figure out a ride situation by tomorrow morning.”
“Wait-that’s not what I meant. I’m not kicking you out or anything!” He replies back panicked.
“I know, and you have been truly kind, but I think it’s about time I figured out how to get home.”
You meant that last part more literally than you can let on.
“Well, if you are so adamant, at least don’t leave at an unreasonably early time in the morning. I can have Bill at least drop you off into town.”
“I don't know... Mich-”
“Please I insist”
And there it was the characteristic sweetness of his that you were trying hard not to take advantage of.
“Okay fine”
He smiles somewhat victoriously at your surrender.
He smiles somewhat victoriously at your surrender.
“See I’ve got your back, I probably won’t see you tomorrow, so if you find your way back home, just know it's been a pleasure.” He politely states. His hand extends in the space between all you feel an odd sense of Deja vu. When you take his this time, Michael pulls you into a surprising hug. It takes you a few moments to adjust, off of the pure shock, but once it subsides you find yourself cradling his back as you melt into it. When he pulls away, you too only stare at each other. It’s like Micheal is trying to memorize every feature on your face and tattoo it on his brain. At least that's what you're doing, you think you’d cry if you had ever forgotten what it was like to see him this close. When he finally lets you go completely, he hesitantly turns his back towards you to leave the room. Before he does though, he stopped by a thought that must have been plaguing this entire time.
“It’s weird…”
“What is?” you inquire, tilting your head slightly.
“The way I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”
You only smile slowly at that.
If only he knew.
He only smiles in response.
“Good night, Diana”
“Good night, Michael"
