summary: reader is michael’s secret girlfriend, which is all fun and games until his brother asks her out. that’s it. that’s the plot.
word count: 2182
author’s note: i feel a little meh about this one but i was itching to write more jealous michael (my beloved) and y’all know if i have to pick another jackson brother i’m choosing marlon every time. (we’re pretending his wife doesn’t exist in this universe okay, there’s no cheating going on here) writing all the brothers together is my absolute favorite thing, so maybe i’ll do more of that if y’all are into it?
inbox is open for requests as always (if you’ve sent me a request and i haven’t written it yet, i’m not ignoring you! i’m just waiting for inspiration to strike ♡)
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
“You’re doing what?” Michael’s voice was high, almost shrill.
“Going to dinner with Marlon.”
The two of you were backstage after a performance on the brothers’ Victory Tour. It wasn’t the first time you’d traveled with the Jacksons, working as one of their dressers. It was the first time you’d worked with them since Michael had asked you to be his girlfriend, after months of tension and flirting, stolen kisses and late nights in hotel rooms. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little bit of a bummer to be touring with him as his staff member rather than his public girlfriend, but he’d insisted it was better this way, keeping the relationship just between the two of you. That way, there would be no tabloids or paparazzi - and most importantly, no Joseph - harassing you.
You understood that. You really did, even if it stung sometimes. And working for him did have its perks—one of which was private access to his dressing room.
That’s where you were now, sitting on the couch, watching Michael get undressed.
Or, he was supposed to be getting undressed. He’d managed to get exactly one finger out of his glove before he’d frozen in place, looking at you like you’d just told him the world was coming to an end.
What you’d actually said was that you were going to dinner with Marlon after the show, but both possibilities seemed to carry equal weight to Michael.
“You can’t do that!”
You raised an eyebrow slowly, looking amused.
“I can’t do that?”
“No.”
“Hmm.” You hummed and tapped your chin, pretending to consider that for a moment. “I think I can. Last time I checked, I was grown. Pretty sure I can eat dinner with whoever I want.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Michael groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I meant… you’re my girl. You can’t go on a date with my brother.”
You laughed out loud at that, like the possibility was so completely ludicrous that you couldn’t believe he’d suggest such a thing.
“Michael, it’s not a date. It’s just dinner.”
“‘s definitely a date.” He mumbled miserably from behind his hands.
“I’m your girlfriend. I’m not going on dates with anybody but you.” You stood up and crossed the room, gently prying Michael’s hands away from his face.
He looked at you, more pouty than you’d ever seen him.
“Why don’t you just come with us?” You offered.
“Because he didn’t ask me to get dinner. He didn’t ask anybody but you. On a date.”
You rolled your eyes, pulling Michael’s glove off and putting it on the table. Then you slid the jacket off his shoulders, returning it neatly to its hanger.
“You sound crazy. Marlon’s just being nice.”
“Marlon is not nice. He’s a schmuck.”
That made you laugh again. You knew Michael didn’t mean that. It was honestly kind of cute, how worked up he was getting over this.
“Listen.” You grabbed his shoulders gently. “I’m really hungry. Your brother asked if I wanted to get dinner, and I do. You are more than welcome to come with us. But unless you wanna explain to him why I’m not allowed to go…” That part was a little pointed. “...then you’re gonna have to pull it together, because you’re totally blowing your cover right now.”
“But—” Michael opened his mouth to respond, but a loud bang on the dressing room door stopped him. “Yo, Mike! You better not be naked!”
Before you even had the wherewithal to let go of his shoulders, four of his brothers piled into the room all at once, followed by Jackie on crutches.
“Hey, Mike’s got company! And it’s a ladyyy.” Jermaine grinned like a fool, and you rolled your eyes fondly, pretending to brush some invisible lint off Michael's shoulder before dropping your hands. “Hey, boys.”
Michael was still staring at you with that wounded look on his face, but you seemed totally normal. You were a better actress than he was an actor, apparently.
“You ready to go?” Marlon asked, and you nodded, grabbing your purse. “I was ready two hours ago. I’m starving. Are you guys coming?” You asked, indicating the other brothers.
“Nah, Jackie’s gotta go home and rest his leg.” Marlon answered for them, and you stifled a laugh. Michael had told you the truth about Jackie’s injury, but you weren’t supposed to know it.
The brothers made no such effort to hide their chuckles, and Jackie shot Marlon a glare.
“Shut up. The rest of us are goin’ out to the bar.” He told you, but he didn’t look too pleased about going anywhere with his brothers when they were making fun of him like that.
“Oh, okay. Michael?” You turned back to him, giving him the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was say yes. Then the three of you could have a nice night out together, and he’d see that you and Marlon were just friends, nothing more.
“I—” He couldn’t get a word out before his brother cut him off again.
“Woah, hey. What’re you doin’ invitin’ him?” Marlon protested. “I thought it was me and you.”
Your expression dropped into a perplexed frown. You didn’t understand why Michael joining you would be a problem.
Until Marlon wrapped an arm around your waist.
Oh.
In a moment, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. None of the other brothers seemed to notice except Tito, who was looking back and forth between you and Michael.
“Uh-oh.” He muttered under his breath.
Michael had frozen again, this time with his hands balled into fists at his sides. He wasn’t moving at all, save for the slight twitch of his jaw, but his eyes were screaming at Marlon to get his hands off of you.
You suddenly felt very, very uncomfortable.
“I… um.” You took a step sideways, freeing yourself from Marlon’s grasp. “I just remembered that I told Marcia from costuming that I would order room service with her tonight.”
“Huh?” Marlon clearly could not comprehend why you’d had such a sudden change of heart, but the other brothers seemed to be catching on. If you hadn’t been looking at Michael, you would have seen Jackie, Randy, and Jermaine connecting the dots in their minds, all of them suddenly very interested in looking at the dressing room carpet.
“I could eat.”
Michael’s voice was so soft that you wouldn’t have heard it if anyone else had been talking, but nobody dared. The rest of the room was totally silent. You could have heard a pin drop.
There was no anger in his tone—at least, none that was detectable—but it still made you feel about two inches tall. Because he’d been right. Of course he’d been right. And you’d been so naive that you thought you were agreeing to a friendly hangout, when in reality you’d agreed to a date with another guy. Another guy who happened to be your boyfriend’s brother. You secretly wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.
“Am I missin’ somethin’ here?” Marlon frowned, looking around the room. The cheer that had been present two minutes ago was gone, and in its place was a tension so heavy and thick you could cut it with a knife.
No one acknowledged him except for Michael, who was looking increasingly like he’d like to cross the room and throttle him on the spot.
“Nope. Let’s go eat.” He cast a pointed glance at you, and you went from feeling two inches tall to two centimeters. “You’re comin’. Tell Marcia her room service is on me, and you’ll eat with her tomorrow.”
You nodded dumbly, because what else were you going to do? A few minutes ago, you’d been feeling very confident in your acting skills, but you didn’t know how to act your way out of the mess you’d just gotten yourself into.
“I think we better go. Right guys?” Jermaine spoke up, trying to diffuse some of the tension. “It’s gon’ take Jackie an hour just to make it to the parkin’ lot. We don’t want the bar to close down before we even get there.”
“Yup.” Tito and Randy said in unison, and Jackie was so eager to get the hell out of the room that he didn’t even glare at his little brother for the jab.
“See y’all later!” Randy waved, and Tito gave you a “Sorry, can’t help you with this one” sort of look before all four of them bolted.
That left you, Marlon, and Michael in the room.
They were in some kind of staring match—Marlon confused and Michael furious—when you stepped in between them. “I’m… I’m going to have Bill bring the car around, okay?” You were hesitant to leave the two of them alone, but you had to get out of here somehow, and you trusted Bill to keep Michael from committing capital murder.
“I’ll be right back.” You excused yourself, hurrying down the hallway like a woman on a mission. Bill was the only other person in the world who knew about you and Michael’s relationship—not because you’d ever told him directly, but because it was virtually impossible to slip anything by him. He was the one who drove the pair of you whenever you wanted a quiet moment alone, and he’d spent many a night watching the door to Michael’s hotel room to make sure you weren’t walked in on. Maybe he could help you out of this.
When you came back to the dressing room a few minutes later, Marlon was kicked back on the couch, apparently past he and Michael’s stare-off. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world; like the awkward exchange had been just a small blip in his plans for the evening.
Michael hadn’t moved from his spot.
“Car’s ready.” You said nervously, fighting the urge to put your hand on his arm. Your voice seemed to snap him out of his daze, at least, and he stopped glaring holes through Marlon to force a smile at you. “Great. Let’s go.”
In the car, you tried to position yourself between Michael and the window, but you ended up in the middle of the two of them instead. Of course you did. That was just your luck.
Marlon was sitting too close for comfort. You wouldn’t have noticed it before, but now you were hyperaware of the way his leg would brush yours every time Bill hit a bump in the road, and of course, so was Michael.
He didn’t do anything about it at first. It was almost eerie—the silence, the way he was letting all of this happen right in front of him without doing anything to stop it.
Then Marlon tried to be smooth and slide his arm around your shoulder, and Michael snapped.
“Back up.”
His voice was the coldest you’d ever heard it. Scary cold.
Marlon stopped with his arm awkwardly in midair. “Do what?”
“I said back. up.”
“What is with you guys, man? You’re actin’ weird as hell tonight.”
Michael didn’t respond, wrapping a hand around your thigh.
Marlon blanched, the realization hitting his face like a ton of bricks.
“Woahhh, hey, Mike. Dude. I didn’t know.”
He pulled his arm away from you and raised both hands in surrender, looking genuinely afraid for his life. It would have been funny if you weren’t also a little scared for yours.
“Well, now you know.” Michael said, his voice low, his grip on your leg tightening, possessive in a way you didn’t know he was capable of.
“Right. Right right right. Hey- you know I would never step on your toes on purpose! I thought she was… y’know, available.”
“Well, she’s not.”
Under normal circumstances, you would have scolded them for talking about you like you weren’t sitting right there. Under these circumstances? You were grateful not to be a part of this conversation.
“How come you didn’t tell us, man?” Marlon shook his head almost as soon as the question left his mouth. “Nevermind. I got it.”
Besides Michael, his brothers knew better than anyone else what it was like to be hounded by the paparazzi, who took everything that was good and spun it into something horrible. More than that, they knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Joseph’s wrath, especially when he felt like something—or someone—was distracting one of them from their work.
“I won’t tell. I swear. Mum’s the word.”
There was quiet for several seconds before Michael shook his head. And when he spoke, some of his old, familiar gentleness was back. “No. I think we should tell everyone.”
“Really?” You blurted, so taken aback that you couldn’t help it.
“Really. Let’s tell ‘em all tonight.”
Your heart soared at that, and you beamed. In the rearview mirror, Bill was smiling too.
“So… you got a friend for me, or what?” Marlon nudged you, and Michael cut him a look.
synopsis: you and michael spend a comfortable night eating ice cream and playing a risky game of twister.
warnings: mentions of food, descriptions of food, suggestive, making out, joe interrupts them! oh! and there’s a cat i named after my own kitty </3
They say the universe works in a strange way. It must be true, because never in your life would you expect your shy boyfriend to be fond of rom-coms. Sixteen Candles to be exact.
It’s already dark out. Encino is eerily quiet and sombre this time of day, save for the consistent spluttering sound of the fountain in the Jacksons’ roomy driveway. All of Michael’s brothers have chosen to go out tonight, except for Michael himself. He’d rather spend all his free time with you.
And that’s how you end up on the soft brown sofa, the smokey smell of pizza still hangs in the air, your belly still warm and full, whilst watching a movie Michael insisted on seeing. He saw in the TV guide that his favourite channel would broadcast it, anyway.
“Oh— honey, I love this part,” your boyfriend points out. The glass bowl of strawberry ice cream is slowly melting into a pink puddle of sweetness, colourful dots of sprinkles floating around in the gooey substance. His other hand rubs between his cat’s — Mandy’s — ears, right over her adorable, fluffy head.
You’re curled up next to him, savouring the sentimental feeling of being with him, right here, right now. You want to keep him beside you forever. “You say that about every part,” you giggle. “And your ice cream’s melting, Mikey.”
You watch how the movie’s plot progresses: Sam goes to the dance. Her panties get stolen. Caroline starts a wild party at Jake’s house. With every scene, you melt further into Michael’s side, his body heat comfortable on your skin through your thin tank top, as you slurp on spoonfuls of strawberry ice cream.
Occasional mewls from Michael’s cat have you two giggling from time to time as the feline settles herself between you. You look like cat parents, you think. Other than that, Michael and you watch the movie in silence, apart from some breathy laughs and smart comments from you.
The last scene is playing when you start to shiver. Jake finally visits Sam in church, and surprises her with a birthday cake. Just when Jake tells Sam to make a wish, Michael’s big hands settles over your waist, warmth radiating off his skin like he’s the sun. “Is my baby cold?” He mumbles, doe eyes still glued to the television screen.
“A little.” You admit softly, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Your boyfriend chuckles, a hint of gentleness in the melody, even when he laughs.
“I know something that could warm you right up,” Michael stands up from the sofa, extending his hands out for you to take. He looks excited. “C’mon, honey girl.”
The mat with colourful circles is spread across Michael’s bedroom floor.
When Michael suggested a simple game of Twister, you almost couldn’t believe him. You haven’t touched the family game in almost a decade, and you’re pretty sure the box is rotting away in your family’s junk closet.
But the hopeful stare in Michael’s eyes— you couldn’t tell him no. And who knows, maybe it’d instigate a Twister obsession within you.
You’ve also brought reinforcements: Mandy paws at the clock-like board like it’s her favourite pastime, while Michael is folded open like a table, arms and legs keeping him up while he breathes heavily from shifting his arms in the right position without falling down.
You hate to admit it, but even in a crazy position like that, he looks delicious.
You’d pounce if you weren’t folded like an origami-crane yourself. Both of your legs are so far apart, your left arm extended all the way to Michael’s, while your right arm is planted right between your legs.
“Your turn.” Michael grunts out. Oh boy.
He gives Mandy a small nod, and the cat attacks the hand of the little cardboard board. In a way, it looks like your boyfriend can speak with his pets. It’s weird, how they fully understand him.
“Right hand to yellow.” Michael speaks, and you let out an embarrassing sigh. Your right arm was starting to get all sorts of tingles and cramps in this position.
Your right hand crawls to the nearest yellow dot, unknowingly hovering over Michael in the process. When you finally find your footing, you realise you’re literally hanging over him.
It’s embarrassing. But sweet. How his eyes look up to you from beneath you. Treading lightly. His jean-clad thigh scrapes the inside of your knee. A flush of redness blooms across Michael’s cheekbones from the close proximity. Thinking slightly.
Both of you still. The depth of the situation you’re in is dawning around you. Your breath feels heavy in your heart when a shy smile graces your mouth.
“Hi, Mikey.”
“Hi, honey girl,” the noiret answers. His eyes scan your face slowly. “You look sexy from down here.” His admission is honest yet sweet, but his words seem to be your great undoing.
Your arms quiver beneath you. “Shut up. You’re making me lose!” His words always have this effect on you, and you can never be normal about it.
“How can I shut up when the prettiest girl in the world ‘s so close to me?” Michael says, craning his neck up just slightly. His breath ghosts over your lips. The fruity, sweet smell of the strawberry ice cream still lingers on his breath.
“You’re such a sap,” you reply, but a part of you still feels flattered. Your eyes flick over to Mandy the cat, signalling her to give the hand a spin again. “Okay, Mikey, your tu—”
Before you can even finish your sentence, Michael settles his mouth over yours. An explosion of strawberry and mint swirls through you. You let out a muffled gasp in surprise when you hear a dull thud of Michael’s body collapsing to the floor.
“Michael, what are you doing—”
“Just, kiss me.” He breathes, pulling you in by the back of your knee to pull your body flush to his on the ground. His touch feels deliberate, tender.
You separate yourself from him again. “But Mandy’s watching.”
“Don’t care.” Michael grits out, pulling your face closer to his in a desperate attempt to kiss you again. “Just want to feel you.”
And this time you let him. What started as an innocent, fun game of Twister ended up in a heated make out session. His strong hands travel to your thighs, over your hips, pulling up your top with the lightest touch.
“Mike— just take it off,” you whisper frantically between kisses. You can’t contain yourself anymore, tugging at the hem of his white tee.
Michael grins at your desperate ministrations. “Patience, baby,” his hands are fidgety on your hips. With ease, he attaches his lips to the spot under your ear, right where you’re always sensitive to his touch. “Gonna take my time with you.”
Because everything Michael does, he does in earnest. With full attention on you only. Kissing you. Touching you. He wants to feel every fibre of skin, the swell of your cheeks when you smile whenever his lips touch yours.
You feel like you’re going insane. You’re pretty sure you are insane. “Don’t be like that, please.” You whisper, voice cracked.
“Like what? I just wanna enjoy you—” He uses his weight to roll you over. You, on your back on the Twister mat, and him scattering butterfly kisses over your collarbones. His free hand pulls up your top, his head immediately lowering to your stomach. The wet kisses he places there feel sacred, fluttery on your skin.
You release a couple of breathy giggles as you peer down at your boyfriend between your legs, your fingers gently finding purchase in his messy hair. The two of you are lost in the moment.
Then, a booming knock on the door interrupts your little moment. The bedroom door creaks open, and then—
Joe’s impending presence of doom looms over the two of you. The look in his eyes is stony as he scans over the careless position Michael has thrown you in. If you weren’t embarrassed before, you definitely are now.
“Michael, get the hell off that girl. I need you in my office. Now.”
a/n: can we talk about how hard it is to write out twister positions im crine + ohhhh my goshhh i love the olivia dean and michael/jaafar jackson combo sm I NEED ANOTHER REQUEST I CAN BASE OFF OF AN OLIVIA DEAN SONG
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