5SOS LAND

Christmas with Michael

For the past few days, you and Michael haven't been on good terms.  Just any little sound, word, or move, bugs one another, and you don't know why.  The bickering and nit picking was so stupid, and just yesterday, on Christmas Eve, it escalated to real fighting, where words were shouted back and forth, along with name calling and profanity slipping from one anothers mouths.  The profanity came mostly from Michael, as he does happen to have a habit of swearing uncontrollably.  It's possibly his worst habit actually, and there's no stopping it.

And so, you went to bed last night, in tears, as it was Christmas Eve, and Michael wasn't there to hold you through the night, because you were so furious with him, that you made him sleep on the couch.

You couldn't sleep last night, though.  You felt awful.  The things you said to him, and the picture of his face when you told him to sleep on the couch, burned inside your brain, and it was Christmas Eve.  Definitely not how you wanted to spend it with Michael.

You tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, but it was impossible without Michael there.  And so, you stayed up for hours, crying in complete silence, and it wasn't until around 3:00 A.M, you fell asleep.

And you actually had some news you needed to tell him, but the fighting made you so upset that you dropped it, fearful that he'd get even more upset with you than he already was. 

But now you realize that it'd be pretty stupid of him to get upset, as it is also his fault.

Not knowing what time it is, you're still pretty sleepy, and find yourself just drifting off to sleep when suddenly, Michael bursts through the door, with a Santa hat on, and that old, acoustic guitar in his arms, as he sings the Christmas classic "Jingle Bells", only he changes the words to "balls", and all the anger you've been feeling towards him these past few days fades right away, and you immediately forgive him.  It's just so typical of him to change the words to "balls", and God, he looks adorable with that Santa hat on. 

But you manage to keep a straight face, and remain completely silent, because, although you definitely forgive him, it's always fun to ignore him because, well, Michael is an actual man-child, who demands your attention all the time.

"Babe, I'm really sorry about last night." he says, setting the guitar down and crawling on the bed. "And these past few days, too."

Still keeping a good poker face, you look away from him, crossing your arns.

"Babe. . . Come on. I'm sorry. I'm really, really fucking sorry." he all but whines, as he reaches out to hold your hand, in which you jerk it away from him. "(Y/N), please. Please don't do this. I'm sorry."

His whining and begging hurts your heart a little.  But still, you ignore him.

"Babe." he whines again, leaning down and nuzzling his face in your neck, leaving small kisses on it.

"Stop." you demand.

His head shoots right up, and he looks at you with a big smile. "You said something!"

"Whatever." you say, trying to keep a straight face, but it's impossible with the way he's looking at you, and the Santa hat that's slipped down his forehead, nearly covering his eyes.  It's just so fucking cute, and you find yourself bursting out into giggles.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." you giggle. "You just look so cute with that Santa hat on, and just-- I don't know. I'm sorry too, I guess."

Happy, he lays down and nuzzles his face in your neck again, and that's when you remember you have something to tell him.

"Michael, sit up. I need to tell you something." you say.

"Tell me later." he mumbles sleepily.

"No. It's important."

Slowly, he sits up and looks at you with fear and concern in his eyes.

You bite your lip, and fiddle with your fingers.

"Babe, what's wrong?" he asks with concern.

Before you know it, you find yourself blurting out, "Michael, I'm pregnant."

His eyes widen, and his jaw drops.

"A-Are you serious?" he asks.

"I am."

For a moment, he's dead silent.  Then a huge grin washes over his blushing face, and he pulls you in for a tight hug.

"I love you so much." he whispers against your skin.

"I love you, too." you giggle.

"Wow. I'm gonna be a dad." he says as he pulls away from the hug.

Smiling, you nod. "You sure are."

"Wow. . ." he breathes, and hugs you again. "I'm so glad I didn't pull out."

"Michael!" you shout, and shove him away from you, and he nearly falls off the bed. "You're such a fucking pervert."

"I know, I know. But hey, you love me." he says.

"True." you smile.

Sighing contently, he lays next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, clinging on to you like a koala, as he nudges his face right between your boobs.

"Are you comfortable?" you giggle, looking down at the actual kitten below you.

"Very." he whispers, as he only holds on to you tighter. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, ya dork."