hii i wanted to first say that i really love your stories and i wanted to request a story where reader and michael are really close friends but they both have feelings for eachother. michael is in the process of getting everything ready for the thriller mv (like all the technical stuff lol) but last minute the female lead cancels because she got sick and michael has to ask reader for a hugeee favour if she could step in. reader says no at first but then because she has a soft spot for him she eventually says yes and when they’re learning choreography and the tension is painfully OBVIOUS to everyone around them. maybe also a part where they’re filming the mv (its up to you!!) thank you 🤍
filming | michael jackson
- summary: thriller!michael wants bestfriend!reader to star in the short film of his. reader doesn't want to. he leaves it alone. ola ray, unfortunately, gets sick. take a guess on who's next in line.
word count: 7.7k
warning: mentions of john l*ndis, another attempt at comedy but i realized it definitely doesn't start as one, so also a bad attempt at angst, mentions of ola ray, terribly written kissing scene, too many nothings in the dialogue, RUSHED hello obviously it's me, the ending is hella rushed
* no usage of y/n, mike refers to reader as 'sunshine' mostly
author's note: HELLO. To the requester, I'M SORRY. for taking SO LONG. Same goes to everyone else, the long periods of time I take to get to each request is bonkers. I still have a few more after this, and you guys are probably expecting it by now, and I'm truly sorry, it's pretty difficult to churn out writing especially when you want it to be acceptable enough for the ones that request it. This sounds passive aggressive, but I promise I'm not trying to be, I appreciate you guys so so much and I'm honoured I've been requested to write for you.
Speaking of, again TO THE REQUESTER, I absolutely love your ask, and I did it just slightly more differently from your original prompt, so I'm sorry if this doesn't go the exact way you want it to!! I truly hope you like it either way, and again, I'm soo so sorry for taking so long. I genuinely think it's a warning at this point about how long I take for each request. As always, thank you for requesting! I love you.
+++ not proofread, as how things go here. also, the ending is insanely rushed. and off. I'm sorry...
+++ english isn't my first language! and I'm not a professional writer by any means, so ignore all the mix of british and american spellings, please, thank you! Hope you all enjoy!
taglist! ; @jaafarsbaby @mbafi @umafanficdoidaqualquer @sebbysbaby @universesweetheart
°•°•°•°••°•°•°•°•°
Sipping on the cup of coffee, you observe Michael in front of you. He's tapping his foot on the concrete, following a rhythm in his head. Hand busily scribbling on a notepad, while his other one has been inching towards his cup of orange juice for almost three minutes now.
Raising your brow, you wonder if he's ever going to take that sip within the next hour.
As he continues to scrawl quietly without even blinking, you shift and lean against the backrest of the chair, eyeing the passers-by walking and lively conversing.
Lively conversations, you miss what that feels like.
Quietly snickering at your dramatic inner thoughts, you shift again, resting your chin in a relaxed manner atop the palm of your hand. Focusing your gaze back onto Michael.
It's almost unbelievable how much your friend gets into his work without any distraction.
When Michael called and asked to meet up for breakfast, it was nothing out of the ordinary. The two of you usually meet at least three days per week, anytime either of you are available for a brief catch up. Michael, especially, would try his darn hardest to not make the days few and far between.
Having been friends with him for so long, and you still vividly remember the reason why he's so intense about hangouts. It's a few years back, and he was in the middle of creating Off The Wall. By then, you’ve already been friends with each other for almost five years. Despite knowing his bizarrely busy work life, with tours and shows for The Jacksons, you didn't recall him being as busy as he was then for his adult solo album debut.
Yes, you understood the immense pressure and focus it takes for that. Particularly when it meant so much to Michael and how much of a perfectionist he is. But when it had been nearly a month filled with cancelled lunches and zero attempts at rescheduling, you took that as a hint that maybe Michael simply didn't think you're worth his time.
It hurt like hell then, and you know how they say ‘You can look back fondly’ or whatever? Yeah, it still hurts like hell just thinking about it.
It was nearing 2PM on a Wednesday, and after receiving a no-show, no-call, no nothing from Michael since yesterday, which was your mother’s birthday… that’s the last straw for you.
You take a deep breath, staring at the landline. Okay. Okay. You can do this.
Mustering up the courage, you hurriedly reach for the telephone before the opportunity to change your mind presents itself. Dialing the number you know by heart, you already predict that it'll just lead to Michael's home answering machine. And that suits you just fine.
You're absolutely done trying.
The telephone clicks, and surprise surprise, his machine answered. Clearing your throat, you prepare the script you had in mind for a while now.
“Michael, it's me. Listen, whenever you're free, I'm gonna need my things back. I already memorized them, so… Anyway, I left three of my sweaters and one of them, that navy blue one? Yeah, it should still be with Janet. Can you ask her to return it to me please? Also, you can keep my books, I just need my favourite one back. It's Demian by Herman Hesse… if you forget. There's some of my hair products left in the guest bathroom cabinet, if you want it you can keep it. If not, you can throw them out. I would come by myself and pick these up, but I don't even know where you are anymore these days, so it's easier this way. Okay, thanks… Goodbye.”
Almost slamming the telephone down, you take a long and deep breath. There. You've finally done it. Almost a month of nothing from him, and you've finally had enough.
God, it's like you're acting like a fling of his.
Well, you somehow emotionally feel like one when years of friendship come to a stop without any heads up. Quietly pouting to yourself, you plop on the couch and try to hold back your tears. Only Michael could bring your sensitivity out like this. That darn man.
It feels like you've been in your dreams forever when three timid knocks come onto your front door. Blinking your sleep away, seeing the television running and its blaring light, your eyes squint. Noting the tub of melted ice cream and another empty tub of the same flavour placed on the coffee table, you realize you fell into a deep sleep after consuming “post-break-up level ice cream” with M.A.S.H playing in the background.
Yikes. Maybe Michael was right in staying away from you. Downright mess is what you are.
Miserable at the thought, you comb your hair with your hands in an attempt to look presentable and trudge all the way to the front door.
Opening the door with curiosity, your eyes widen at the sight.
There's Michael, looking the most forlorn he's ever looked, holding your Demian novel. He bites his lip nervously, and you will yourself to avoid focusing there, and instead decide to cross your arms.
“Where's the rest of my stuff?”
He averts his gaze briefly, holding out the book more pronouncedly. “I didn’t forget your favourite book, sunshine.”
“Alright. Now where's the rest of my stuff?”
Michael frowns further, and with his soft voice, he says, “They’re back home… May I come in? Please?”
Huffing lightly, you begrudgingly open the door wider to let him in. Michael enters, almost shyly. His eyes wander to the state of the coffee table, and his heartstrings tug. It takes a no brainer to figure out the cause of that.
He fixes his gaze onto you again, and you speak up before he could.
“Don't you have work to do or something?”
“I uh… I took a break for the rest of the night. Figured I could use one.”
You hum in response, arms still crossed in defiance. “You usually take those breaks at 10PM.”
“Sunshine, it's almost 11 o’clock.”
Quietly berating yourself for sleeping the whole day away, you clear your throat in embarrassment. “I knew that.”
“Listen, I uh… I got home for a short minute earlier this afternoon, and I heard your message.” Michael looks at you carefully, placing the novel on the armrest of your couch.
“Apparently you heard but didn't listen. Because where is the rest of my stuff?” You ask him again, almost exasperated this time.
“Please, sunshine… Don’t do that,” he gently says. His eyes gleaming with concern. “I'm sorry.”
“It's forgotten, Michael. Just give me my stuff and it'll be all done.”
The man starts shaking his head adamantly, walking closer to you and firmly gripping your hands. “No, I'm sorry. For cancellin’ on you. A lot of times. For bailing last minute. I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I swear I didn't intend to hurt you.”
You shake your head, pulling away from Michael’s grip. The action stabs right through his heart, pain etched into every corner of his face. Walking around the room and cleaning up your mess, you tell him in a distracted manner. “I mean, Michael, I understand you're busy with everything. Truly. That's why I prefer not to disturb your life anymore, seeing how important it is for you to—”
“Stop,” he pleads as he tracks after you, taking the empty tubs of ice cream from your grip and places them back on the table. Taking your hands in his again, he leans in slightly and briefly bumps your forehead with his. “Please, don't do this. I can't take that. Not you, sunshine,” he whispers.
“Michael,” you sigh out.
“I'll make it up to you. I'll do anything, okay? Anything you ask me, I'll do it. Just, please…” he whispers timidly. Taking your hand and kissing the back of it, Michael continues. “You're not gettin’ your stuff back, alright? Not anytime soon. You have a home there, and I’m askin’ you to come back there tonight.”
Shaking your head stubbornly, you tell him you couldn't.
“Call in sick tomorrow. Please. I'll tell them I have a family emergency, and we'll– we'll spend the day together. Okay? We can go wherever you'd like, you name it. I'll even tell Bill to let you drive, if you want?”
“Michael!” You interrupt him, frowning in disbelief, “What makes you think I'm going to call in sick for you tomorrow when you haven't even had a full conversation with me for longer than a minute in the past three weeks?”
He freezes, lips parting in surprise and his eyes dull by the second. Michael shifts closer and nods, “You're right… I'm sorry.”
“You missed my mother's birthday,” you whisper, your heartbroken eyes tearing right through his soul. “She asked after you.”
“I know,” he whispers in response, letting out a shaky breath. “I already got her somethin’, as an apology. I'll give it to her soon.”
You hiss softly, “Just your presence would have sufficed, Mike.”
“I know, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I promise I'll do better,” he says, desperately cradling the side of your face, “I just need you to be patient, please, I can't– you can't just ask for your things like that, it scares me terribly.”
“Well, how do you think I feel?” you ask him, pain lacing your voice. “I know I'm no musician or artist, so I know time is wasted if you spend it with me—”
“That's not it at all, sunshine,” he argues, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “Don't say things like that. I never meant to hurt you, I just, I got carried away, but that won't happen again. Ever, okay? Please?”
Michael leans in and presses a soft kiss against your temple, “I'll do better, I promise. We'll meet up at least five days per week, or however you want it. I'll schedule and everythin’, okay? Please, baby?”
You almost melt at what he says to you, heart beating faster at the nickname. He's never called you that before.
“Mike…” you trail off.
“Please,” he whispers against your neck, wrapping his arms around the back of your waist. “I'm sorry. Please don't be mad anymore. You’re such a precious friend of mine, I can’t lose that. I'll do better.”
It takes another moment of silence, his grip tightening around you, head buried into your shoulder, before you manage to quietly tell him, “Okay.”
His whole figure melts the tension away, sighing out and pressing a soft kiss against your neck. “Thank you,” Michael whispers.
So, that's how it led to Michael being serious when it comes to planning little brunches or meet-ups in the years following. He never forgets to call you back to do a raincheck if his schedule couldn't allow a spare moment of freedom. If a last minute cancellation happens, he'd apologise the same day by sending flowers or on the rare occasions when he could, Michael sends himself with a rental movie and bags of snacks. Inviting himself in for a late movie night. And you can't complain.
Which is why you're sitting for breakfast with him, though you wonder why he decides to have it with you at the cafe across from Westlake Recording Studios. The cafe you're at is still in the studio premises, and with Michael being here, they've taken extra precautions so there would be no disturbance from the press or fans so early in the morning.
“Mikey,” you nudge your foot against his softly below the table. “Please, for the love of God, drink your OJ.”
Slightly jumping in surprise, Michael looks at you sheepishly before putting down the pencil. His hand finally gets its grip on the glass of orange juice, taking a big gulp before smiling widely at you.
“Sorry, sunshine. I was in too deep again, huh?”
You hum in amusement and shrug, “It's how you always get, Mike. What's gotten you so out of it this time?”
“It's uh, my short film, remember the one I told you about the other day? They're gonna start auditions soon. I'm just writin’ down some ideas I have, y’know… maybe they'd oughta’ put some of it in, I don't know,” Michael shrugs as he flips through the notes.
“Oh, is this the one for that Thriller song?”
“Yes,” he says, smiling at your excitement.
“Mike!” you gasp, clasping your hands under your chin, “Oh, I can't wait for that! You must be dying to start production already!”
He nods, taking a bite of his toast. Tilting his head, Michael murmurs softly, “They're gonna have auditions next week.” Eyes flickering to the side, he bites his lip nervously. As per usual, you will yourself to look away to avoid lingering your gaze on his lips. Clearing your throat, you look at him with a raised brow.
“What's bugging you?”
“The auditions… the main character they're findin’ is supposed to play my love interest. And I knew that going in, but uh, I'm just– I'm just thinkin’ how awkward it would translate on camera. Me with a stranger and all. You know what I mean?”
Nodding along to his words, you give him an emphatic look. You know Michael. He's the furthest thing from shy, but that's when he's on stage. With cheering audiences and dance grooves to help him find his rhythm. Although, Michael is harsh on himself because you personally have never seen him act as awkward as he thinks he is. Nervous, sure, but that happens to everybody. Your hackles slightly rise at the thought of another woman acting intimate and close with him, but you brush that off. There's no time for silly business like that here. You want to tell him it's not going to be a problem, but instead resort to a different method once you spot the genuine gleam of concern in his eyes.
“Mike, you'll be fine. And if you're anxious at all, just…” you think for a moment before snapping your fingers, pointing to him. “Just imagine you're on stage. You'd practically be on stage right? With cameras, crew members, an audience. Just pretend you're on stage dancing with a lovely girl. You'll knock their socks off!”
Michael quietly chuckles at your words, nodding along. “Thank you for your tip, sunshine. But I, uh… already had my own solution, if that's what we're callin’ it.”
“Oh? And what's that?”
It takes a beat of silence. Michael tries giving you a slow, smooth grin. Letting out a nervous laugh.
You look back at him with confusion, your eyes getting narrower with every second that passes. He shrugs and raises his brows, seemingly suggestive.
Then, your brain clicks. Eyes briefly widening before a grimace quickly replaces your look of bafflement.
“No way in hell, mister.”
“Sunshine, please!” Michael scoots his chair annoyingly loudly to be right beside you. The iron stools drag against the hard concrete, making that irritating screeching sound repeatedly enough that it turns some people's heads. You shake your head incessantly but this doesn't deter the man. Instead, he's decided on gripping both your hands on the table. “It'll be so much fun! And I'll feel so much better with someone I know!”
“Then get LaToya to play! She was already with you in that song with Paul!”
“I'm not doin’ that! C’mon, sweetheart! Don't you want to make me happy?” Michael continues to plead, eyes wide and doe-like specifically to torture you. Sometimes, you genuinely think the universe blessed him with those to weaken your resolve. You groan and look away, covering your eyes.
“What's gonna make you happy is a successful short film, and having me on it won't bring anything but unnecessary trouble! I'm not an actor, Mike!”
“You don't need to be a good one with this particular vision,” he says in a sing-song voice, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Michael rests his chin on top of his other hand, eyes locked into your gaze, never flicking away. “What do you say, sunshine?”
You poke his forehead. “I say no.”
“What if yes?”
“In your head, maybe. But I say no. Next topic.”
“Sunshine…”
“Michael. Don't make me hit you with that toast of yours.”
•
After your toast threat, Michael admits defeat with much grumbling in tow. But he’s left you alone about it… in his own way.
Two days after the Toast threat, he starts… pulling things.
You’re in the middle of doing some work when a knock comes onto the door followed by frantic rustling. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, you get up and open the door just slightly. Michael’s been telling you to get a peephole but you’ve imagined far too many scary things enough to not pursue that idea.
Outside, there’s nobody except… flickering your gaze down on the doorstep, two bouquets of flowers and a box of chocolates set in between. You raise your brow and open the door wider. Of course, it’s Michael but even for him this is a little too much. He cancelled the brunch you were supposed to have earlier but had already apologized by sending you some food the moment he hung up. There’s something else going on here.
Naturally, you reach for the box of chocolates first.
On top of the box was a note. You hold back a shocked gasp once you read the words.
‘Do you wanna be my co-lead? Take blue bouquet if yes! Take pink bouquet if no :(‘
‘I’ve asked the secret messenger to hide and see what you pick, so if there’s a creep in the bushes, that’s him :) so don’t worry.’
‘Love, Mike’
This is when you know Michael is almost desperate to get you into this filming gig because in a normal circumstance, he’d never let anyone, not even any of his brothers, play a trick and have a peeping Tom moment on you.
Scoffing aloud, you only take the box of chocolates and exaggeratingly hold out the pink bouquet, for anyone in the vicinity to see.
“Got it, thanks!” a muffled voice comes out from one of the bushes to your left and you hold back a grimace before immediately going back in.
Two days later, he does it again.
No plans to meet up for today, but he usually calls around 3PM to have a chat. Your landline rings on the dot, and you pick up. Before getting any word in, Michael speaks up, making you jump.
“Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please—”
“Michael! That’s enough!”
“Please, sunshine, I’d do anything!”
“Mike!”
“Oh, you’re so hard-headed!”
Gasping in offense, you murmur poutingly, “You take that back or I’ll hang up.”
“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean that.” Ignoring the name he calls you again, despite the butterflies in the pits of your stomach, you scold him.
“Mikey, I’m not going to say yes! Lay off, good lord.”
Muffled voices can be heard from his side, and your ears prick at hearing the words ‘audition’, ‘girl’, ‘long queue’.
Oh sure, when someone is talking to you, you have to ask them to repeat it a few times, but background conversations from the other line? No trouble at all. Figures.
You snap out of it once the words heard finally register into your brain.
“Michael?”
“… Yes, sunshine?”
“Are you asking me… the same time they’re having auditions for the role?”
“Listen…” he starts.
Then the line clicks.
Your mouth is left agape, realizing he hung up after not knowing how to excuse himself. The nerve. Laughing to yourself, you continue your day.
•
Days later, despite your underlying suspicions and high alarm, you go against them when Michael invites you to visit the set. He promised you beforehand about leaving you alone in regards to having you in the video, and there’s no ulterior motive behind his offer.
You’re having the time of your life eating from the snacks table as Michael tells you about the filming. He was already in costume, and you have to avoid looking at him again, because God… he looks absolutely wonderful in it. Beyond wonderful.
Discreetly shaking your head out of your thoughts, an absentminded hum leaves your lips. “Did you find an actress?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “Ola. She’s nice.”
“Nice?” you ask, looking at him briefly. “Just nice? How’s the choreography training? Went well?” Biting your lip, you take a gander at all the mini bagels laid neatly on a tray in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, the man beside you almost melts at the adorable view.
Clearing his throat, Michael shrugs. “Well, it’s not like she’s gonna be dancin’ with me. We’re just walkin’… and yeah, it went okay. I just have to cuddle up close to her more and such.”
“Oh,” is all you can say, in fear of exposing the ugly envy rearing its head out of you. “Fun.”
“Yeah, wish it’s you instead, though,” Michael murmurs in response, busily fussing with the lapels of his jacket.
You turn to him with wide eyes, “I’m sorry?”
“Oh, nothing! Nothing, eat your bagel, sunshine.”
•
“John. John, we got a problem!”
“Excuse me, guys,” the man says to you and Michael, grinning before leaving the two of you sitting on folding chairs set behind the cameras. You blow out a breath, giving a look to Michael.
“What is it?” he questions.
Shrugging, you speak to him in a hushed voice, “He’s a little much, isn’t he?”
Michael’s face contorts into confusion before raising his brows in surprise, “Who– John?”
“He’s all up in your face, that’s for sure. And why does he keep lifting–”
“Sunshine!” Michael softly tuts at you, holding back his laughter. “Stop that.”
Raising your hands in surrender, “I’m just telling you the truth!”
The both of you try to keep your laughters at bay, almost to no avail before John appears once again, face stricken. Taking off his glasses, he rubs the bridge of his nose before looking straight at Michael. “Uhm, Mike?”
Michael gets up from his seat, looking at John in concern. “What’s up?”
“Ola’s not coming.”
“I’m sorry?” Michael and you say in unison, his tone more in surprise, yours more in disbelief.
“Yeah, she’s got the flu. Or her aunt’s got the flu. I don’t know, someone got the flu but she can’t make it, I wasn’t really listening after that,” John says, putting his hands on his hips. Michael crosses his arms, tilting his head.
“Well, we can shoot tomorrow?”
John shakes his head, “No dice. She won’t be able to get here within the next few days, and we gotta start shooting today. We have to cut her.”
You exchange a look with Michael, and the latter speaks up, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s a little harsh, ain’t it, John?”
John shrugs, and his unconcerned behaviour leaves a bad taste in your mouth. “That’s how it is, Mike. You know that. No show, no go. We can’t delay filming any longer, either way. So, I’m gonna get that list of runner ups for the girl character, and we’ll start from there, huh?”
“Wait, uh… but I still need to get comfortable with her, is that right?” Michael says, beginnings of anxiety radiating off of him. Giving him a worried look, you take a step closer and reach out to pat his arm comfortingly.
“No time, Mike. Don’t worry, you get the hang of it as we film. You’re a natural,” John waves his hand away.
“Yeah, but John, it might get into my head and I can’t really perform if things get into my head–”
“I’ll do it,” you blurt out before cowardice could get to you.
“Sorry?” the two men say in unison, both in surprise.
“I’ll do it. Mike is comfortable with me. It makes sense,” you repeat, giving a small smile to John. His face quickly brightens, and he grips your shoulders firmly.
“You just made my job a whole lot easier! I could kiss you!”
“Better not, huh?” Michael mutters, pulling you away from John’s grasp, slight frown on his face and his eyes gleaming with something. Unperturbed by this, John rushes away like a man on a mission.
Michael turns to you, hands coming up to rest on your shoulders. He looks at you with concern, “Sunshine, are you sure? I promise, I didn’t plan this or anything. I wouldn’t actually pressure you like this, y’know that right?”
“I know, Mike. Don’t worry.” You gaze up at him softly, brushing imaginary dust off of his shoulder, “I just didn’t want to see you get into your head about that kind of thing.”
“Always lookin’ out for me,” he says quietly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Promise me you’re okay with this? Because if not, I’ll let John know and it would be no problem.”
“I promise,” you say. Nodding firmly.
Michael looks at you for a few more seconds, gazing into your eyes. He smiles widely after, leaning in to kiss your cheek. Murmuring softly, he pulls you into a tight hug, “You’re a lifesaver, sunshine.”
“I know,” you sigh out, returning the hug. You wanted to curse everything for putting yourself in this position, but everything comes to a stop when you’re in his arms.
You’d do anything for Michael, it seems. It’s only right when he does almost anything for you.
Besides, it’s not a totally bad thing when Michale smiles at you in a way he does. You take that as sort of a reward point, internally storing it in your head. It’s too late to back out now.
Gosh, what did you just get yourself into?
•
The filming is supposed to begin by now, but a grace period was given for you to learn what you’re supposed to do. The crew is still setting up the scene, hustling and bustling around the space. It’s the scene after the movie, where you’re walking out of the theatre and Michael runs after you. John describes the energy you’re supposed to have which is a little flirty, a little teasy, all that junk. He’s pointing on all your T-marks, explaining the lines your character says.
Nodding along, you adjust the denim jacket you’re wearing. The hairstylist is doing some finishing touches when Michael comes up to you with a wide grin. He’s been grinning like a fool ever since you agreed to do this. “Everythin’ okay, sunshine?”
You smiled at him in amusement, “Okay until you appear with that exhausting smile of yours.”
Chuckling softly, he gazes at you up and down, nodding in absolute delight. “You look really good.”
You push down the urge to look away shyly, and instead teasingly throw him a grin. “You really think so? I’ve never worn these types of pants, what do you think?” Giving him a little spin once the hairstylist rushes off, showing him the whole look in a playful manner.
Michael ignores the way the fabric clings to your legs and how the top hugs you in all the right places. He ignores how the makeup somehow enhances the lighthearted gleam in your eyes, and how the vibrant color on your lips make them appear much more kissable, if that’s even possible.
“Absolutely beautiful, sunshine. I’m tellin’ you now, you’re breaking the hearts of people around here.”
Nudging him gently, you let out a shy chuckle. Michael softly grins and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and lightly sways them from side to side. John walks up to the both of you, a bright smile on his face. “Are we ready?”
You nod, a nervous twinge blossoming from your stomach. “Mhm.”
“Hey,” Michael whispers as everyone gets ready for their cues. “Just like we practiced, hm?”
You’re aware Michael’s intention was to soothe your nerves, but what he didn’t realize is that the practice is the last thing you want to remember.
A little over an hour ago, you and Michael were inside an empty room, while John and a couple other onlookers discussed the pacing and the actions you’d be doing. You’re not in costume yet, as the wardrobe was still in the middle of handling sizing and whatnot. The scene of you talking outside the theatre was fairly easy. It was quickly practiced in one go before John moved on to the most important sequence for you two.
“And then, I just… slowly guide you, in a way. But we’re just walkin’, alright? Nothing else, just you and me walkin’ down the path,” Michael gestures, telling you how the scene goes.
Nodding and giving him a playful smile, you say, “Well, I’m walking down the path while you’re acting like a goofball?” Michael laughs and nudges your chin, muttering sheepishly. “Yeah, if you put it like that.”
So, the practice begins. You’re walking, walking, walking. Swinging your hips ever so slightly, because John says for you to ‘be alluring, but not too much’. You can’t really decipher what he actually needs, but you leave it be because Michael looks at you in the most reassuring way the whole time. Assuming there’s no qualms with how you’re doing so far due to the silent observation the other crew members are doing, you continue doing the same thing.
Walking down the small space, Michael moves to the rhythm and does his little ministrations. Teasingly grinning, taking steps around you. When the song gets to a point, he goes behind you and places both his hands on your shoulders, making you laugh and look back at him, continuing the walk around the floor. He laughs along too, and pulls you closer before taking a few steps back again. It almost feels like you’re dancing with him, with the way he moves and glides along the beat and having you subconsciously follow his timing.
He steps around you again, walking backwards and mouthing along the words playing, and you bite your lip and softly reach out to stroke his jaw. Michael stills ever so slightly before grinning, ignoring the heat making its way to the apples of his cheeks. He softly ghosts the back of his hand down your arm, making you shiver mildly at the contact. Michael eyes your reaction, and snakes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he gazes down at your lips.
Leaning in for just a second, you teasingly look away afterwards, catching him off guard. The arm Michael has around your shoulders slides down to hug your waist, squeezing it once before letting go fully as he proceeds to mouth the words, intensity burning in his eyes.
The walk goes along further, with you having to turn around due to the limited space yet maintaining the energy. A little tug of imaginary rope shared between you and him, entrancing the rest of the room. They all stay quiet during your choreography, scared any movement will somehow break the tension. But as they note the way you lean closer to Miichael’s warmth and how much more comfortable he seems to be with touching you in a carefree way, more so than with Ola, they don’t think anything can break the tension.
You bite back a grin, having your own little staring contest as Michael shakes his head, grinning in a defeated way when he finally blinks. Coming closer, his hand reaches out to slide across your stomach, and he’s slowly walking around you in controlled pacing. You hide your gasp at his soft touch, but Michael only gazes at you with a playful gleam in his eyes. His fingers inch a short hair’s breadth away from your torso before making its way gracefully to the small of your back.
Okay, this might be the no air conditioning in the room, but you don’t think Michael was supposed to be nearly as touchy as he is right now.
He shifts closer again, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into a firm hold as the verse ends. You look at him silently as his dark gaze flickers down to your lips before going back up to softly stare into your eyes.
The sound of clapping breaks the bubble, and you lightly pull away, not going far when Michael’s hold on your hand tightens. “That was great, guys,” John says cheerfully, clearing his throat as the other crew members disperse, some of them exchanging knowing looks and mischievous smiles. John pats you on the shoulder once before squeezing Michael’s arm.
“We’re in luck! I think we’re ready to go, she’s a natural,” he says, walking out the door before rearing his head back for a short second to continue. “Oh, uh, Mike? I know what I said the other day, but maybe tone it down if you want to air it on TV, huh?”
Your eyes widen before looking at Michael who could only clear his throat and look down at your interlocked fingers. Flitting his eyes towards you, he murmurs so quietly. “You were really great.”
“I was?” you ask, smiling sheepishly.
“Yeah,” he nods, grinning wider, reaching to gently stroke your cheek. “You’re perfect, baby.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, you try your hardest to expel the memory of the practice– and how he called you ‘baby’ yet again with no warning– and only remember your dialogue. Nodding to let them know you’re ready, Michael guides you to move behind the fake doors, getting on your marks. He gives you a silent look of assurance, taking your hand and kissing the back of it briefly before pulling away.
“Alright, everyone, quiet on set! Mark. And we’re rolling… 3,2,1, action!”
You take a deep breath, centering yourself before walking out the door. Strutting your way to the front and arms crossing as you land on the mark. Michael’s cue comes in and he runs after you, charmingly laughing as he says his line.
“It’s only a movie!”
Throwing him a tantalizing look, you say your line in a pouting manner, “It’s not funny.”
He looks to the side before giving you a knowing look, smirking roguishly. “You were scared, weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t that scared,” you reply, timid and small before facing to the side in disgruntlement. Although, your eyes are still looking at him, finding it hard to actually turn around at your cue, too lost in the way he holds himself in front of the camera.
“Yeah,” he says quietly tilting his head, smiling that attractive, heartbreaking, arresting knockout smile of his. You’re so bothered by it, you finally turn around and walk away. Michael laughs in a way that makes you think he could read your mind, and he says his line, “You were scared.”
He follows after you, already reaching his arm around your waist before John yells out into the megaphone, “Cut! That was great!”
As if he didn’t hear a thing, Michael wraps his arm around your waist, talking to you quietly. “Hey, sunshine, can we have a movie night after this?”
Raising your brows, you look at him curiously. “Sure, Mikey, but why so sudden?”
Michael shrugs as he tugs your ear affectionately. “No reason, I just miss you.”
“Yeah, of course,” you say in response, giggling when he smiles widely at your agreement. You hear someone clear your throat, and it was the stylist glancing between you and Michael back and forth.
“Sorry, Michael, I’m gonna have to steal your girl for a sec’, hair needs some touch ups.”
Your lips part, about to tell him that no, you’re not his girl before Michael speaks up. “Yeah, sure. I’ll let you do your thing. See you in a bit, sunshine.” Then, he walks away.
Leaving you almost sputtering at his lack of denial, lack of reaction, lack of anything really. Just pure, casual agreement.
Noticing your facial expression, the stylist laughs to himself, “Boy, you two must be a show for your friends.”
What is that supposed to even mean? you think to yourself, pouting in annoyance.
•
It’s the following night where you plop on the couch, sighing and resting your head back. You’ve finally finished filming the necessary parts, having succeeded in bringing life to John’s and Michael’s visions, and now all you want to do is sleep for the next two days straight. Once you arrived home, the only thing on your mind was a long, hot shower. Checking that off the list, you can move on to the sleeping bit.
Three knocks come onto the door. You only groan out, eyes still closed, “It’s open!”
It could only be one person, anyway.
“Sunshine,” Michael’s soft voice calls out as he opens the door, entering while holding a paper bag, presumably filled with snacks and a rental movie. “I told you to never leave your door unlocked.”
“Even when I’m right here?” you ask, squinting one eye open, looking at him.
“Especially when you’re right there,” he shakes his head, placing the paper bag on the coffee table.
Almost whining, you fall and lay on your side, burrowing into the couch. “Oh, c’mon, Mike, I knew you were coming in anyway! I’m too lazy to walk all the way over there, and reach out my hand all the way to the doorknob, and open it for you. I’m beat!”
Chuckling quietly, he looks at you in amusement, “It takes six steps from the couch to the door, sweetheart.”
“Same difference,” you wave your hand away. “Gosh, I’m beat. Remind me to never do this again. I’m fine and dandy doing my own work, thank you very much.”
Michael hums, leaning down to softly stroke your head as he smiles. “Too tired for movie night, I take it?”
“No, no, you wanted a movie night, we’re going to do movie night, okay?” you say, quieting down when he starts shaking his head.
“I just wanted to be with you tonight, sunshine. No movies necessary.”
Oh. Okay.
“Well… what do you wanna do?” you ask, getting up and sitting with criss-cossed legs on the couch.
“Well, I actually, uh… I wanted to talk to you about somethin’,” Michael says, sitting next to you on the couch, making himself comfortable.
“What is it?”
“It’s been runnin’ around my mind since… forever. More than usual, recently.”
Nervously fiddling with his shirt, Michael turns to look at you. The glint of what you see as desperation appears in his eyes, and all you could do is stare back at him with parted lips.
“Y’know I love you, don't you?” he asks in a small voice.
Nodding slowly, you reply in a whisper. “Of course.”
“And I hope you love me… the way that I love you,” he continues, giving you a slow look of nervousness, brows raising expectantly.
You're frozen still, mind whirring violently as you take in his words. Is he being serious? Could it be… Wait. Your happiness halts as what he says registers, and all you could do is let out a weak laugh before you could outwardly pinch yourself from being delusional.
“Mike, are you saying your character lines to me again?”
Michael stares at you in befuddlement, eyes widening, taken aback. “I was?”
“Yes,” you feign a laugh to cover your disappointment, “It's pretty similar.”
The man gets up abruptly from the couch, pacing back and forth in front of you, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he lets out an ‘Uh’, ‘Um’ and cursing quietly to himself every now and again.
Baffled at his behaviour, you try sporting a teasing laugh. “What, are you trying to tell me you're a creature of the night or something?”
You're joking but secretly, you pray to anything that hears you it's truly, truly not that. You don't think you could handle Michael being a werewolf. Or a werecat, for that matter.
“No, no, no,” he says in a rushed state, going down on his knees and grabbing ahold of your hands. Eyes looking into yours softly. “Baby, I'm being serious.”
Stilling again at the name, trying to push down your feeling of thrill and excitement, you ask him to clarify further. “What's going on, Michael?”
“I meant…” he starts, biting his lip before taking one of your hands and kissing the knuckles, “I love you… in a way a friend shouldn't, sunshine.”
“I… I beg your pardon?” you say, face etching into surprise.
Michael nods and reaches to stroke the side of your face, murmuring quietly. “I’m… in love with you, sunshine. I've been lovin’ you like this for a while now.”
“Michael, stop playing around.”
“I'm not,” he says firmly. Leaning his forehead against yours, Michael continues in a hushed tone. “I've been in love with you for ages, and I didn't say anythin’ cause I didn't know how… how you felt. But yesterday when I… when we were practicin’ and I was holding you, and your eyes, your face…” he trails off as he brushes his lips against your jaw, making you melt with desire.
“Your face said somethin’ to me,” Michael says, gazing at you, his eyes sparkling with want, getting brighter with every second that passes. With a voice almost shaky with trepidation, he asks you, “Didn't it, sunshine?”
“Michael…” you whisper hoarsely, focusing on his lips.
“Hm?” He's now inching closer, lips ghosting against the corner of your mouth. “Tell me I'm not seein’ things?”
Shaking your head dazedly, you could only tell him, “No, you're not.”
Almost heaving a deep sigh, Michael kisses your nose. Smiling sheepishly, he says, “I knew it.”
“Mike!” you laugh, caught off guard.
“I knew I wasn’t trippin’, baby! God, I’m so glad,’ he says with the tone of excitement lacing his words before looking at you in a shy manner again.
Before you could laugh off the remnants of tension brewing between the two of you any further, Michael leans in and whispers against your temple. “You have no idea how happy I am, really. Truly.”
“Then you must know how happy I feel, Mike,” you say softly in response.
Michael hums, and starts to leave small kisses against the side of your face. "That's good to know.”
Silence fills the room save for the sounds of him pressing his lips down to your neck, inching closer to the arch to your shoulder. The both of you melting into each other, relief brewing in his heart as well as yours at the thought of finally escaping the imprisonment of feelings for each other. Michael softly says, “Baby, I’m… dyin’ to kiss you. Can I? Please?”
Biting your lip, you notice his gaze of desire and could only bring yourself to nod. Leaning in closer to him, you both finally meet in the middle.
Your lips make contact in a gentle manner, almost hesitant at first. Michael cradles both sides of your face gently as he leads you into the kiss. Parting your lips every so slightly, he tilts his head and shifts closer. Pressing his lips more firmly against yours, the both of you sigh in relief, as if you’ve both been underwater for so long and now, you finally get the chance of fresh air. The soft brushes drive you crazy, as well his thumb that’s now slowly stroking your neck. Nipping at your bottom lip, you gasp and he chuckles quietly, briefly pulling away.
Before you could whine, he gets up and hushes you warmly, “My knees were hurtin’, baby.”
Taken aback, you laugh shyly and pull him to the couch next to you, leaning in to kiss him deeply this time. Michael sighs into your lips and wraps his arms around your waist. He’s holding back a groan as you reach your fingers to run through his hair, and the man squeezes you more firmly as he parts his lips from yours, trailing to the slope of your neck. Each kiss makes you tilt your head further, carefully cradling the back of his head.
“I've been wantin’ this for so long,” Michael mutters, pressing a final kiss to your shoulder. Pulling his head back completely, Michael looks at you with what you could only call as a wonderment. The both of you are still holding each other as if you're never letting go, and you shyly lean down and press a kiss on his nose.
“I never would have guessed, Mike.”
“I think I was hidin’ it pretty well,” he let out a low chuckle, “Well, that's what I thought until one of the crew members came at me earlier askin’ why we weren't together yet.”
Your lips part in surprise, the warmth of embarrassment filling every inch of your being. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Michael nods, laughing again at your state, “I'm sorry too… because that was kind of the last straw before I gathered the courage to tell you.”
Giggling, you bury your face into his shoulder, leading to Michael softly stroking the back of your head.
“Sunshine?”
“Hm?”
“Are we… Are we okay with where this is goin’?”
Sighing and shifting closer against Michael, you nod happily.
“Good because… I was wonderin’ if… you'd be my girl?” he asks you, lightly lifting your head off to look into your eyes.
Lips tilting upwards, you look at him in amusement, quickly noting the callback of his dialogue from the shooting again. A disapproving shake of your head as you laugh heartily.
“There you go again! Where's the promise ring then, huh?” Swatting at his chest repeatedly, the both of you chuckle like lunatics on the couch, filling the room with a sense of warm comfort and the excitement of starting something new.
