Soulmates and Exceptions #Wattys2016

Bonus # 1: Jackson's Gloves

A/N: Why exactly did Michael give Jackson his gloves a little early? Why did he enlist the help of Rose and John? Read on to find out!

     Michael had been keeping a close eye on his eldest son the moment he turned sixteen. He and Jackson's mother had been matched two years before they were 'technically' able to, and he was determined to keep his sons from the same fate that had befallen him. Things had started out harmlessly enough – his son sneaking a side glance in Gabriella's direction every so often. Then there came all of the excuses he made to touch her in innocent ways – an arm around the shoulders while watching a show or going for a walk here, a hug there. When Jackson's actions became more frequent, Michael confronted him.

     "Hey Jackson."

     "Hi Dad." Jackson kept his sights focused on the scene playing outside of his window. His younger brother was teaching Brea a few new self-defense moves.

     "You've been watching Gabriella a lot lately." He pointed out casually.

     Jackson froze, his mind racing to think of anything to change the subject. "Why would you think that Dad?" He turned to face Michael, his hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck.

     "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you were feeling like you were drawn to her."

     "What?" Michael watched as Jackson rubbed his neck harder. "I'm seventeen. I won't be able to feel that until I'm eighteen. From what I've heard, it'll be a while after that before I feel anything."

     "So, you always trying to hug Gabriella, or touch her is just something I'm imagining?" He raised his brow in suspicion.

      Jackson gulped. He wasn't sure if what he had been feeling meant that he was drawn to her - he just knew that he couldn't get her out of his mind. Regardless, he couldn't let anyone know what it was that he was feeling. "She's just a friend Dad..." he glanced towards Brea and Spencer, "I like to look out for her, like I do Spence."

     "Just like Spencer, huh?" Michael rubbed his hand across his chin as his son nodded. "So, shouldn't I be seeing you be more affectionate to your brother?"

     "Spence can take care of himself better than she can." Jackson crossed his arms and spun back around to watch the two outside.

     Michael sighed. "I just wanted to ask." He eyed the unlabeled, marbled notebook that he knew Jackson used as a journal. He slid it behind his back as he made his exit. Jackson wasn't going to tell him the truth, but Michael knew that he'd find the answers within the pages of the notebook.

* * * * * * * * * *

     Michael shut the door to his room and sat on his bed. He held the notebook in his hands, briefly feeling guilty about sneaking it away from his son's room. "I need to do this, for his own good. If I'm right, it won't just be him that I'd need to worry about." He told himself to ease the guilt. He flipped open the book, heading for a few entries before the more recently written in pages.

     'When did I start thinking of Brea in this way? When she's near me, I can smell her shampoo and I can't get enough of it. When we hug, I don't want to let her go. When she looks at me, I can't pay attention because I'm staring at her bright, hazel eyes. When she smiles at me, I'm speechless.'

     Michael groaned softly. "This isn't making me want to wait for your birthday for your gloves." He said out loud to himself. He flipped a few pages ahead and continued his reading.

     'Jordan started in on Brea again today at lunch. That kid's such an asshole. It tore me up watching her trying not to cry in front of everyone. She ran off into the stairwell instead of fighting him. I think she's trying to behave because her mom's been tired of getting her from school. I went after her. I put my hand on her cheek and wiped a few of the tears away when I felt it: a prickly feeling in my whole body. Then everything got really warm. She looked at me and said something, but I couldn't hear what she was saying. She did press her cheek into my hand and smile at me, so I must have done something right.'