Silly Boy.

Part Eighteen: The Cousin.

((A/N: CUPCAKES!! It's been waaaaaaaaay too long!! I'm sorry for the disappearance, I've been busy with doing my summer things with family and whatnot, but now, here I am, updating just for you guys!! YAAAAYA!! Onwards we tread :3))

Last Time:

You laugh aloud at that one, stopping suddenly when Michael grabs your hand without a single word, beginning to pull you towards his red car that must have just recently gotten out of the shop. "Thank you," Michael finally whispers, continuing to tug you to the car. "For the compliment, I mean," he says when your eyes meet his in confusion. You shrug carelessly before saying "It was true." Michael laughs softly, opening the shotgun door for you. "Yeah, okay," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm before closing your door and rounding the car to get in on the driver's side. "It is," you protest, looking at him as he starts the car. "Y/N, I think maybe you're not normal either."

This Time:

You and Michael finally arrive at The Parlour after a slightly long car ride of listening to Michael's old Greenday albums in total silence. Not the awkward kind of silence, the comfortable kind of silence that says "You don't have to talk to me because as long as you're here, I'm happy." Before you can even attempt to get out of the car, Michael rounded the front end in a half walk, half jog sort of movement and opens your door for you. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, to which you blush silently before taking it.

"Thank you, Mikey," you whisper, feeling as if you talked any lounder, you'd break the serenity layering the parking lot. Michael smiles at you, keeping your hand tightly in his own before closing and locking the door with his free hand. He turns back to face you, his eyes shining at you with the reflection of the full moon above your heads. "Shall we," he asks just as quietly as you had thanked him. "We shall."

He leads you towards the restaurant, the same comfortable silence from earlier falling on the two of you. You were trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering in your stomach due to Michael's hand still being laced with your own. You finally enter the restaurant, Michael's shoulders dropping a bit when he saw the long line simply to check in. "Looks like we'll be waiting for a bit," he said softly, not meeting your eyes. "Sorry, Y/N." You roll your eyes at that, trying to ignore how absolutely adorable he looked when he thought he was guilty. "Michael, it's fine," you say softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I don't mind." His head raised and his eyes flitt upwards to meet yours, making prolonged eye contact. Finally, ever so softly, he begins to speak, his voice barely reaching your ears. "I l--" he begins but is cut off by a loud voice with an accent Aussie thicker than Ashton's booming the words "COUSIN MICHAEL!!"

Michael turns around so quickly that you're surprised he didn't get whiplash. You follow his wide emerald eyes only to see them land on a large man with with a food-stained apron on over his white shirt and black slacks. The man also had on a tall chef's hat, with the littlesst bit of graying brunette hair sticking out from the front. He had shining blue eyes and open arms, gesturing for somebody to come into them. Michael drops your hand silently and runs towards the man, lacing his arms around him.

"Jonathan," you hear Michael proclaim, squeezing the man once more before turning to face you, his arm still wrapped around 'Jonathan'. Michael's emerald eyes were shining with pure excitement when they met yours, a huge smile on his face. "And who is this pretty little one," Jonathan asks, pointing to you, causing you to blush deeply. Michael's eyes avert away from yours, and you see a slight pink coating his cheeks. "That's.....that's Y/N, Jonathan. She's my....she's my, uhh....date for tonight. Y/N, this is my cousin Jonathan," Michael says simply, his voice sounding strained due to supposed embarrassment.

Jonathan lets go of Michael and walks towards you, grabbing both of your shoulders in his large hands. "Molta bella," Jonathan proclaims before kissing both of your cheeks and letting go of you. "Jon, how many times do I have to tell you that we're not Italian," you hear Michael groan, causing you to giggle at the irritation in his voice. You see Jonathan roll his oceanic eyes before turning to face the lady at the podeium, whom you assumed was the hostess. She had dark black hair tied up in a tight bun and was clad in a bright red cocktail dress, black heels dawning her feet. "Nicole," you hear Jonathan say as Michael walked up to you.

"That's the cousin Jonathan you never shut up about," you ask Michael quietly, hearing him chuckle softly in response. "Yes, that's good 'ole Jonny."

"I'm sorry for your misfortune."

"He's not that bad once you get to know him. And the hostess, Nicole, that's his wife. She's Italian. We're not, but Jonathan likes to think he is", Michael whispers with another low chuckle. "The chef married the hostess," you ask in shock, your eyes flickering between Jonathan and Nicole. "Is that even allowed?" Michael laughs at your question this time. Not a low, soft, throaty chuckle like the ones he's been allowing slip all evening but a real, somewhat loud laugh that could only be described as Michael.

"Jonathan isn't just the chef," Michael whispers, grabbing your hand in his. His warm fingers wrapped around your cold ones, making tingles run through your arm and fireworks explode in your stomach. "He own this place. All of the waiters and waitresses except like....three, I think? Doesn't matter. Anyways, they're Jon and Nicole's kids. It's a family owned and operated restaurant, Y/N." You gasp in shock, your eyes flickering to the young waitress by Nicole's side, who was talking to two customers before leading them away. You hear Michael chuckle at your actions and felt him squeeze your hand. "That's Lydia. She's one of the few non-family workers here."

"She's gorgeous," you whisper, looking down at the beige carpet. "Not as gorgeous as--" Michael is cut off again by Jonathan's booming voice. "COUSIN MICHAEL," Jonathan booms, making Michael's head snap up to look at him. You also looked up, due to pure curiosity. "Were you not listening," Jonathan asks, glaring down at Michael. Michael shakes his head and quietly apologised. Jonathan rolled his eyes before saying "I asked if you and molta bella here were ready to be seated."

Michael nodded before saying "Jon. We aren't Italian." Jonathan simply rolled his eyes before turning to the new waitress at Nicole's side. "Tyla," Jonathan said sternly, drawing her attention away from the customers she was about to seat. Tyla apologised to them before walking to stand beside Jonathan. You had to admit that Tyla looked strangely similar to Michael. They had the same coloured eyes, though hers didn't shine like Michael's did, and her hair was a light blonde, which you knew was Michael's natural hair colour, and had a single black streak running through it. Her cheek bones were set low, and her slightly chubby face made them look almost nonexistent. Her dress was black, stopping at her mid-thigh and her smallish feet were clad in black Converse shoes. This had to be one of the waitresses Michael was related to.

Your thoughts are cut off by Jonathan's booming voice once more; Maybe he was just naturally loud. "Tyla, mio bambina, make sure that cousin Michael and his pretty lady get a good table, maybe one dalla finestra, okay?" Tyla nods and just barely whispers a soft "Yes, Papa" before gesturing for you and Michael to follow her. You squeeze Michael's hand in pure excitement, to which he chuckles and squeezes back. On the way to the table, you say "I could get used to your cousin." Michael laughs aloud, drawing attention to himself but not caring before saying a soft and not-so-subtle "I told you so, bella". And it was times like this when you wished you could speak Italian.

((A/N: OKAY, I'm gonna leave that there for y'all to read. And, hey, if you know any of the Italian terms I used, feel free to comment, telling me that you knew them. And if you don't, and are sitting there utterly confused like "What the fuck does molta bella mean?", then make sure you also comment, asking me/other people of the comment section what they mean!! And if you really liked it, press the vote button, because it only takes a second of your time!! Okay, thanks. See ya in the next update!! ~Anniplier :3))