creole ➸ [michael au]

March 1 2016

Mason.

What Alice didn't expect that early Tuesday was a call from the sheriffs' office. It was only 7 am, and she was trying to her best to fall back to sleep, but the phone rung and the bad news came. She couldn't help but groan in response when the sheriff told her that semi-sober Michael kept calling her name, and with a tab of his thumb, the sheriff tracked her phone number from his.

Alice came into the office with some black jeans, loose pink blouse, and a ton of  black rollers in her hair. She still had the pillow imprint on her left cheek from sleeping too hard and she didn't even shower—which disgusted her.

She came in, instantly flying towards the jail cell where a pale Michael laid with his head against the bars and his body sprawled on the floor. "Michael," She called out silently, staring directly at the dark red rings around his eyes. He glanced up at her, his eyes widened and he smiled, "I fucked up, Alicio."

She shook her head, hiding the smile that danced on her lips as she met up with the sheriff. It was a woman by the name of Elizabeth Stork, she had a bowl cut, that even with the slight signs of aging, it made her seem youthful.

"I'm sorry to call you early this mornin'," Her prominent Georgian accent welcomed Alice, "Clifford here just kept rambling on about you, and seeing he was obviously intoxicated, I couldn't dare to let him drive home like a wreck."

Alice thanked her many times, but Sheriff Stock just shook her head, "It's the least I could do," then, she smiled, "You've got keeper here; I kept asking him questions, just to divert his attention from being in the jail cell, and his face would absolutely change when he thought about you. I just love good, hardy couples." Sheriff Stock gushed as she opened the cell for Alice.

"Oh, we're not dating." Alice passed quietly, holding onto Michael's waist as she tried to drag him out. "Not yet." Michael slurred, his voice hoarse with the overnight shots clouding over his voice box.

"Oh, sweetie," The sheriff pouted, "Y'all just need to get to it. It's not every day you see a guy devoting his time to one girl." The blonde lady thought about it for a second, before patting her bangs, "Hell, it took me forty years to get my husband tied down. Now that old hicker can't live without me. Literally, he's on his deathbed."

Michael snorted loudly, his face scrunching with half excitement, from the cruel joke, and half pain, because of his pounding headache. "Alright, Alice. Let's go." Michael mumbled as he molded his hand into Alice's and tugged her outside.

"Michael, I didn't even get to thank that lady." She huffed and she pulled her hands away from Michael's.

"You literally thanked her five thousand times already." Michael grumbled, standing next to her by the bus stop.  "When's the bus coming?"

"Actually, Scott's coming to get us."

Michael immediately stepped back, "Why the fuck? I'm sorry, but just because he got to see you naked doesn't mean I have to be a thing with him as well."

"Wait, what?" Alice turned to Michael, slowly trying to process what Michael was rambling about. "He has never seen me naked, Michael? He's my friend and it only makes sense for you too to be friends as well."

"I don't want to be friends with a guy who just wants to expose you."

"Michael, behave yourself. " Alice mumbled, pushing Michael forward to the car. "Just be nice."