5SOS Imagines

Michael

You are one of the boy's waiter at a restaurant. When you hand him the check you write your phone number. When you pick up the check again he told wrote that he would wait at the bar until your shift was over.

After he handed you back his check with the note you had been nervous all night. You had written your phone number in because frankly you didn't think he would of ever called. You avoided the bar all night, not wanting to know if he was really there waiting.

Finally, you were done with all of your duties for the night and it was time to close.

"Y/N." Your boss tells you as he walks into the staff room in the back. "There is a guy that refuses to leave the bar until he sees you." You could feel your heart race at those words.

"There is?" You stumble the words out, biting your lip.

"Should I call the police? He's had a few drinks." He warned.

"No!" You quickly shout and grab your bag. "He's a friend. I'm driving him home." You lie before you head over to the bar. There was Michael with his faded green hair, his smile growing big when he saw you.

"I thought you hadn't gotten my note," he said as he stood.

"I thought you had left." You countered, grabbing his arm. "We need to go, my boss wants to call the police..." You told him.

"Are you taking me home?" He asked with a cheeky smile, his arm wrapping around you as the two of you walked out into the parking lot.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach the whole ride home. You just couldn't believe that Michael Clifford was actually in the passenger seat of your car. Drunk.

It was probably a bad idea to take him home with you but you figured it was the safest bet. He was drunk and you were extremely tired, you would take him back wherever he needed to be in the morning.

As you took a turn into your neighborhood, you felt Michael's hand slowly creep up your thigh and squeeze your leg through the dark jeans you were wearing.

"What are you doing?" You questioned, glancing at him for a small second before you returned your eyes to the road.

"Nothing." He said with a smile, his tongue elongating the 'o' in that thick accent of his.

"Could you take your hand away?" You asked again, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as the hand moved slightly upward. The energy in the car growing thick with sexual frustration and it suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter as he leaned forward to whisper into your ear.

"Do you really want me to?" He murmured the question, his lips brushing against your earlobe. The slight contact making you shiver against him.

"You're drunk..." You pointed out as you took one last turn into your driveway.

"Not drunk enough to not realize how much I want to take you to bed." He shot back, waiting for you to put the car into park before he turned your face and kissed you passionately.