⌗ synopsis: one unexpected kiss on the cheek brings one very jealous micheal jackson.
⌗ contents: kissing, slightly suggestive, jealousy, swearing.
the stage lights of the 1986 American music awards were so painfully bright they made everything shimmer—the cameras, the crowd, the gold envelope that trembled slightly within your grip. regardless you held a steady smile, letting out a puff of air.
you weren’t sure if it was the nerves or because your micheal was sitting front row looking like a million bucks.
the quiet, brilliant, endlessly gentle micheal that made it his mission to kiss off all of your lipstick right before you went on stage. lips still swollen with friction. you freshened up of course but the sensation of his soft, plump, warm lips still lingered.
your heels clicked sharply against the polished stage floor as you walked out, making a mental note to not trip. the lights were far to bright, the applause too forced, and the air too thick with perfume.
but none of that is what made your stomach twist.
micheal was right there in the front row, leaning slightly forward, elbows resting on his knees. his suit was unbelievably crisp, gleaming just enough to catch the light, curls styled perfectly in his signature hairstyle. but it was the way he stared that made the pressure in your gut intensify.
a smug smile etched onto his face as he watched you walk up on stage, looking beyond proud at how he could see the swollen nature of your kissed out lips from where he was sitting.
you forced your thoughts into a line and stepped to the microphone.
“good evening,” you spoke, smile soft and steady. “tonight, i have the honor of presenting best male rock artist..”
absentmindedly his lips parted, eyes softening just hearing your voice. and something in his posture shifted, like he was silently rooting for you even though you were just reading off a card.
you cleared your throat, trying not to look at him.
“and the award goes to..”
you opened the envelope slowly just like you practiced, dragging out the suspense because that’s what the producers wanted— but also because there was a small shake in your hands.
“bruce springsteen!” you flipped the card around to show the audience.
the crowd cheered so loudly it vibrated your ribs.
you brightened, a practiced smile curling your lips upwards.
and then bruce was suddenly there, jogging up the stairs with the biggest grin, energy exploding off of him as he swept you right off your feet, literally.
“y/n! get over here!” he laughed, arms opening far to wide.
before you could even properly brace yourself for what was to come, which absolutely wasn’t planned. he swept you up.
you were lifted off the ground, feet dangling in the air, dress tightening around your waist from where his arms were braced around you, spinning you around in a full circle like the two of you were headlining a rom-com.
your stomach flipped nervously, but you managed a breathless laugh for the cameras. hands gripping his shoulders for support because you refused to face plant on national television.
“bruce!” you yelped, heat rushing to your face. “this is not what we practiced!” you looked at the camera with a smile, making this all seem natural.
he only grinned wider, setting you back onto your heels while keeping one strong arm braced alongside your back to steady you. his fingers dug into your waist like he had every right to, like he knew your body better then you did.
then he leaned in, warm breath brushing against your cheek.
and before you could react, he kissed your cheek like he’s done it before. quick, playful, dishonest.
of course the audience loved it, they whooped and cheered with delight. completely eating it up.
but something inside of you clenched, because that kiss was purely meant for the cameras. it felt a little like he was showing off. like he felt comfortable enough to show something off that wasn’t his because your dress hugged you in all the right places.
you forced out a bitter laugh, stepping back a half step, keeping the energy light and playful. “you’re too much, bruce.”
but as he moved to the microphone, you let your eyes drift off to the crowd. most importantly the front row, gauging everyone’s reactions to that ridiculous performance by the rockstar.
micheal hadn’t moved, not even a little.
his expression wasn’t angry, he doesn’t do angry in public. but his jaw was noticeably tight, his mouth drawn into a firm line and eyes were dark in a way that made your heart skip several beats.
like he’d gone very, very quiet in a way that meant he was thinking too much. the same silent storm you knew to be troubling. continuing to eat at him until he finally snapped.
and even worse, his eyes weren’t just roaming your face, they were tracing the spots where bruce had touched you, like he was replaying it. he hated the memory even sitting in his conscience.
“shit,” you mouthed under your breath, half amused, half already bracing for the argument later.
you hesitantly stepped back up to the podium after bruce had finished his speech, trying to swallow the racing pulse that threatened to jump out of your mouth.
“now we present the special guest of the night award,” you cleared your throat, hands gesturing towards micheal. “micheal jackson everybody!”
the crowd exploded with cheers and legitimate excitement, but you could barley focus because when he stood up everything else around you became a distant dull buzz.
he moved with such a different grace then the rockstar previous to him, no rush, no show. just unapologetically himself, smooth careful steps like the entire room was something he already knew how to navigate.
they hadn’t left you for even a second, even now as he walked up the steps. when he reached you he stopped just close enough to feel your breath against his neck. taking a moment to look you up and down, tongue darting out to his bottom lip.
“you’re staring mikey,” you whispered automatically, softer then you intended.
his eyes snapped to your face, looking at the same cheek that another man had just previously kissed. the thought alone made his hands clench, knuckles flushing white with abhorrent anger.
he took the award when it was handed to him, but it barley registered. his fingers closed around it like an afterthought.
“thank you…very much,” he began. “im honored.”
applause rolled through the room casually, but he didn’t respond to it the way he usually did. he didn’t shy away from it, he didn’t even give a boyish smile.
instead, his eyes angrily flicked towards you again.
your lips twitched faintly, he wasn’t being subtle about this, not even a little.
“i think…it’s important to remember,” he continued slowly, voice tender but firm underneath it all. “to treat women with respect, with unconditional care.”
“i don’t like when people forget that.”
your eyebrows lifted slightly, the corner of your mouth fighting a smile you refused to make a show of.
because you knew him all to well, this wasn’t a speech. this was micheal trying his hardest not to say too much in front of thousands of people. even worse, taking you in his arms and kissing you in places that would absolutely get you two blacklisted from an event like this ever again.
“thank you for this, to everyone who really supports me. knows that i don’t tolerate ignorance.” he finished a little to quickly, like staying up there any longer would make him lose control of something.
then he stepped back, immediately turning towards you. not the audience, not the camera crew, not even at the fan girls in the back. as if his body knew that was the only direction that mattered.
he didn’t even look where he was walking—just bolted straight to your side, close enough that his shoulder brushed alongside yours as he headed backstage.
“come with me,” he muttered, barley audible but his tone made it clear that it wasn’t up for discussion.
the second you two were off stage the noise of the AMA’s dissolved into something distant and muffled, like the world had been wrapped in velvet and shut behind you.
you barley had time to register what was happening let alone a full breath out before his firm hand locked onto your wrist, guiding you to his dressing room.
he stopped only when you reached a quiet stretch of the private room—dim lights, empty chairs, the faint echo of stage music still vibrating against the walls.
no cameras now, no crowd, no performative smiles and nods. just the sound of his unsteady breathing, chest rising and deflating with an unseen anger. he looked down at your wrist and finally let go, like he hadn’t realized how long he’d been holding you.
“that wasn’t funny,” he said, voice low and trembling with irritation.
“he put his hands on you.” his voice cracked with such real raw emotion, “when he spun you around like that…and then he kissed you—”
he stood several feet away from you now, one hand braced against his hip while the other repeatedly dragged anxiously through his curls. but not because he was trying to fix them, because he didn’t know what else to do with himself.
“from where i was sitting it looked like you were perfectly comfortable being lifted and spun around in front of thousands watching.” his head tilted slightly, something sharp in the way he looked at you now.
that sentence landed like a match striking in dry air.
your eyebrows raising in complete disbelief before you could even stop yourself, “comfortable? are you serious micheal? i was unknowingly picked up infront of those thousand people while being recorded. i didn’t exactly have time to complain.”
his jaw tightened immediately, making a quiet clicking sound with his tongue. clearly fighting an eye roll. “that’s not what i meant and you know it.”
“then speak up, because if you’re trying to accuse me of enjoying that interaction you’ll be walking your ass home.” you shot back, heels clicking harder then necessary onto the cold tile floor because you couldn’t bear to stay still as he looked at you like you orchestrated the whole thing.
“im not—im not angry at you.” he replied quickly, exactly how he did when taking to a family member. not wanting anymore trouble then the conversation was worth, he completely shuts down when arguing was involved. but the tone alone told you he was more then upset.
you let out a humorless laugh, “that’s funny mike, your looking at me like i asked him to lift up my dress and have fun.”
his eyes snapped towards you, as if the words that just came out of your mouth repulsed him. he let out a dry scoff, already irritated by someone touching you let alone pulling up your dress. wrong choice of words.
“don’t even say something that like that, are you crazy?” he laughed angrily, taking just a few strides before he was right infront of you. his long legs allowing him to travel quicker, breath hitting your face as his eyes traced every detail of your pretty face.
both of you far to stubborn to speak up, inhaling each others scent as you tried to swallow the urge to smash your lips against his. anger aside he looked good enough to create a warm heat between your legs, pressing them together hoping he doesn’t notice.
his shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath before he shook his head. “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”
you folded your arms, “that’s because you refuse to say you’re sorry.”
“and you refuse to understand why im upset.” his eyes narrowed onto your lips, subtly watching the way they glistened and popped with each word.
for a second neither of you moved, then micheal suddenly turned towards the dressing room door with determination simmering in his brown doe eyes.
“what are you doing? im still talking to you micheal!” an irritated glare flashed on your face quickly as he reached for the shiny handle, immediately assuming the worst. that he was going to walk out upset with you, forcing you to follow him like a hurt puppy which you absolutely wouldn’t allow.
“no?” his brow quirked upwards, a toothy grin pulling on his now amused face.
“no.” you finalized, stubbornly crossing your arms over your chest.
he stared at you for a moment before letting out a puff of laughter, throwing his head back in irritation from how stubborn you really had proved to be. instead of arguing with you he just opened the door, latching onto your wrist with his naturally gentle touch.
the sounds of the backstage hallway immediately flooded into your senses, crew members, security, distant arguing, and most importantly. reporters, reporters who’s main goal was to film celebrities all night hoping to catch something raunchy or appealing enough to stir up controversy.
a small cluster of said reporters and photographers had gathered near the end of the corridor, waiting for the celebrities to pass after the show hoping to score a quick two minute interview with someone.
your confusion only grew, “micheal what does this have to do with anything? you’re irritating me.”
micheal looked at them like they could solve world hunger with a quick flash of their cameras, a hungry glimmer decorating his brown eyes. he looked back at you then at them, a smile pulling on his lips.
and suddenly a strange sense of realization started creeping into your chest, trying to pull at his hand to guide him the other way where it was quiet. no press, just a black car waiting to take you two home.
but he wasn’t listening now, or maybe he was but this was his version of ending the argument in a way without words. he had never been good at yelling or getting his point across, far to selfless to allow himself to hurt others with his words. so in his eyes this would solidify his statement.
and before you knew it you were directly infront of atleast ten reports with cameras, expensive microphones that picked up every squeak on the glistening tile.
the second they noticed who was infront of them the flashes exploded, people immediately shoving others to be closer with their cameras, fan girls starting to cry and rush to the scene.
“you wanna argue on camera? what a plan micheal, real childish.” you rolled your eyes, trying to pull your hand away from his to escape from the thousands of cameras that were flashing over your irritated face.
his eyes finally met yours as he shifted his body towards you, a small smile dragging his mouth upwards—looking almost mischievous, and before you could protest any further he pulled you closer. impossible closer.
you stumbled into his chest, flashes starting to become quicker. your heart practically jumped out of your chest, realizing what his plan was all along.
his lips smashed against yours in a heated exchange of, gloss, spit, and the anger of being helplessly in love colliding together on atleast forty different cameras. he didn’t bother pulling away as the flashes consumed your bodies, one hand settling along your waist, pulling you into his firm chest while the other held onto your hand.
you could feel the smug smile on his lips as he kissed you, just like earlier he loved proving that you were undoubtedly his. now you’d be undoubtedly his to every woman in the world.
when he pulled back photographers were practically falling over each other trying to capture even a sliver of a second, on the other hand you couldn’t help but to stare breathlessly at him, a weird fluttering feeling blooming in your stomach.
“tomorrow,” he whispered in your ear, “every magazine is going to have that printed on the front cover, every radio station, every talk show.”
“are you crazy!?” you covered your face, an embarrassed flush heating up your cheeks. covering your mouth with a manicured hand, pulling him away from the crowd as he wore a love struck smirk on his kissed out lips. knowing he didn’t regret a single thing.
“no one will remember that shmuck who picked you up, they’ll remember me kissing you like the last woman on earth.” he giggled behind you, beyond proud of himself.
despite yourself, despite the argument, despite the anger that seemed to dissipate into thin air you felt a laugh threatening to escape.
“you’re ridiculous, mikey. you could’ve just said you were sorry.”
“could’ve, but that felt way better.” he giggled his whole way to the blacked out car, gripping onto your hand like his life depended on it—cheesing like the childish kid he still was at heart.
a/n: this is so booty i think i might rewrite but ever since i saw that clip of him glaring at d*ana at this particular award show i HADDDD to write this like immediately because this is exactly what it gave when he was staring at her on stage like i need that so bad 🥹 also please don’t flame me i literally know NOTHING about bruce springsteen i don’t even know if hes chopped so i will litch swap him out with someone else if you guys want lol
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