All credit goes to beholdthebangs
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The thunder outside has gotten louder over the past hour. Lightning is constantly brightening the sky up, and it almost looks like daytime even though the clock above the stove reads 2:00 am. Michael's been playing video games for at least three hours.
"Mikey," you groan, crossing your legs and sitting behind him on the couch. He's settled on the floor with a bottle of beer next to him, controller in hand.
"Yeah, babe?" he asks, moving his thumbs quickly so as not to crash his car.
"I'm scared." Your fingers move down into his hair, running them through his locks and trying to make a Mohawk. He leans back against your hands, eyes closing for a brief second.
Almost simultaneously, Michael crashes his car into a red shell, making it flip into the air. He yells "Fuck!" really loudly, throwing his controller as he goes from first to eighth in a few seconds. You jump as the controller hits the floor. A loud clap of thunder sounds just outside the window, and the lights go out all at once. The TV screen goes black and you practically dive into Michael's lap, hiding your face in the hallow of his shoulder. His arms wrap around you, rubbing your back in an attempt to sooth you.
"Babe, you're alright. I promise.... Do you want some beer?" he asks, holding up the bottle. You take a small sip, handing it back to him. He takes a huge swig, licking his bottom lip as he sets it back down.
It takes you a minute to get used to the darkness, and when you do, you crawl back onto the couch and lay down. You hear Michael sigh as you stare out the window, figuring he was mad about his game being stopped due to the power outage.
After a few more sighs, increasingly louder, you look down at the back of his head. Michael's arms are crossed as he stares at the wall opposite of you, still sitting on the floor and leaning against the couch. "Is something wrong?" you ask with mock-concern.
"Yes," he says.
"Care to elaborate?" you press when he doesn't say anything. You see him shrug in the dim room, only lit by the light coming through the blinds from the constant lightning outside. Your hands go down to play with his hair again, propping yourself up on the couch. "What's wrong, babe?"
"I wanted to cuddle." His voice is quiet and sleepy, and you smile to yourself.
"Then come cuddle. The couch is more comfortable than the floor, I promise," you tease, fingers still playing with his hair.
"There's not enough room on the couch."
"Yes there is."
"I want to go to our room," he pouts. "But I don't want to get up."
"I'll give you a kiss if you can make it to the bed," you giggle. Michael practically shoots off the floor, running towards the staircase leading to your room. You laugh, walking up behind him.
"I'm in the bed!" he yells from your room. "I demand a kiss!"
You enter the room a few seconds later to see Michael spread out in the middle, not leaving you a side to lay on. After shutting the door, you walk over and he holds his arms out toward you, giving you grabby hands. "Patience," you tease, taking off your shirt and jeans. "Can I wear your shirt?"
Michael sits up, tugging the fabric from his body and throwing it to you, pushing his jeans off his legs and throwing them to the floor. "Now hurry up, my kiss is long overdue." Taking off your bra and replacing your shirt with Michael's, you finally join him on the bed. He pulls you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours. "You taste nice," he comments.
