Michael Clifford imagines

Brothers best friend pt.4

Plate and a glass of water was placed right next to Michael's half sleeping form, his eyes blinking a few times before he opened them fully, confuse gazing his mind when he saw the plate and you sitting on the bed next to him. "I brought you breakfast." You announced as if it wasn't clearly, Michael furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at the plate next to him with a piece of bread on it, his mind forgetful at first, but when the hangover and headache hit him, he remember everything clearly. But when he looked down at himself, his eyebrows furrowed again in more confuse, looking up at you. "I swear I was wearing something differently last night." He stated, you smiling, "It's Y/B/N's. You had to borrow it since yours got dirty last night." Michael's eyes went wide and he wanted to sit up straight on your bed, his headache dunking in his head as he did. "What uh- Happened?" He questioned, clearly confused and dazed. "Well you felt a sleep. And everything went well, until the exact moment when the last guest left the house." "Oh no.." Michael instantly moaned, pushing the cold cloth that was already on his forehead closer to his head trying to prevent the headache that was causing him pain. "Do I even wanna know?" He asked, making you let out a giggle. "You puked literally everywhere. I had to give you one of my old school bags to throw up in before I almost carried you to the toilet. We stayed out there for probably 25 minutes until you almost looked like you could pass out. So Y/B/N cleaned up your mess when I dragged you back to my room. Just as soon you hit the pillow you were out like a light. I remember afterwards to take a puking bucket with me in case of any new accidents. But luckily enough for you, there was nothing left in your stomach, so you slept well." Michael's eyes went wide by your explanations, yet you couldn't point out whether he was just shocked or had to puke again. "You need the.." You mumbled fast before reaching down to your floor, taking up the bucket. "No, no, I'm okay." Michael reassured, not feeling any nausea in his body, just the repeating headache almost killing him. "Oh.. Good." You mumbled, placing the bucket back again on the floor, watching Michael as he sipped on his water and took a few bites of his bread. "Thank you." He suddenly said making you look up at him. "For what? Helping you with puking?" You almost laughed making a smile come across his lips. "Not just that. Just thank you for taking care of me and letting me sleep in here. I hope I haven't scared you away already." His hand glide on the duvet over to yours before his warm hand connected with yours, intertwining your fingers. A blush came across your lips by the sudden action, your mouth forming into a small "o" As you looked down at your fingers. "You haven't, I assure." You reassured, a smile breaking onto Michael's lips by your words but was changed fast when his name was yelled. "Michael you sick puking bastard, stop flirting with my sister and get the fuck out here, we have a party to clean up, it looks like a landfill." Michael moaned instantly by the mention of his name, his head falling back to his neck. "The worst part that comes along with parties." He groaned before he let go of your fingers and stood up from the bed. He send you a wink before he turned around on his heels and headed out of the door. "This won't be my last meeting in here Y/N."

(Cred bananashemmo)