Love At First Fight (Michael Jackson Fanfiction)

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"Wow," I sigh, walking out of the bathroom with Michael close behind me, "That was great." I groan in satisfaction. 

"I'd have to agree," Michael grins, reaching out to hold my hand from behind, "I can't wait until I get you pregnant." 

"I'm sure," I smirk, sarcastically, "Just so you can have me all to yourself and no other man will find me attractive." 

"That's not true," he sighs, following me into the closet, "People will still find you attractive when you are pregnant, unfortunately," he scoffs, making me giggle. 

"You think?" I ask shyly as I reach for the body lotion. 

"Mmhmm," he hums with attitude, making me smile even wider, "People love a pregnant woman." 

"Sure, but they don't want to sleep with her." 

"Oh, please," he scoffs, going through his drawers, "I'll be wanting to sleep with you just as much, if not more." 

"Really?" I laugh in disbelief, "You're going to want to sleep with me being fat and all." 

"Yes," he grins, turning to walk towards me, "I know you'll be more tired, meaning you'll be submissive. All the more fun for me." he winks, kissing the tip of my nose. 

"The charmer you are," I snort, rubbing lotion down my legs as I feel his eyes on me intently, "Can I help you?" I grin, rubbing it up my thighs. 

"I should watch you put lotion on more often," he murmurs, keeping his eyes locked on my shiny legs. 

"That would make you happy, wouldn't it," I grin, starting on the other leg. 

"Anything to do with you makes me happy," he smiles before bending down to softly kiss my lips and walking back to where he was before to find something to wear. 

I grin at the back of his head, completely in love with the man in front of me, before rubbing lotion over the rest of my body, and finding some sweats to get cozy in.

"What do you want to eat for dinner, babe?" I ask, slipping on a loose, cropped t-shirt. 

"I'm good with whatever," he sighs, stepping into his grey sweatpants. 

The death of me. 

"Michael," I whine, "You always say the same thing. Can you choose for once? I really don't care." 

"Then why do you always make the decision?" he grins, walking up to me. 

"Because you're so indecisive." 

"Hmm," he hums, wrapping his arms around my waist, "I guess it's good that you're decisive then." 

"Only when it comes to food," I scoff, "If I have no preference on what I'd like to eat, it's fairly easy to choose when there are a plethora of choices." 

"The more choices, the more indecisive." 

"For some," I sigh, wrapping my arms around his neck, "For real, though, what should we have?" 

"How about you cook something for me," he grins, wiggling his brows. 

"Really?" 

"Yeah," he nods as I furrow my brows, "I mean, I like to cook and all, and don't get me wrong, I love catering to you, but that macaroni and cheese you made while we were getting in that fight was so good." 

"What fight?" I murmur, looking up into his eyes. 

"You know, the one before we went to your Mother's," he smirks, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, "The one where you were regretting your decision to move in with me?" 

"Please," I scoff, pushing him away, only for him to pull me right back, "I was not regretting my decision to move in with you. We discussed that and sorted shit out." 

"I know, but the thought was still there." 

"You're just trying to stir the pot," I mumble, rolling my eyes, "I don't why you like getting me angry with you." 

"You know I just love making you nature rise," he smiles sexily, holding a handful of my ass. 

"I know," I sigh as he kisses the space between my eyes, "Trust me." 

"So, what do you say? Are you going to make me that mac'n cheese?" 

"Fine."

*

"Shit!" Adam yells, rushing to Lisa to see if he did any real damage, "Shit, you're kidding." he hisses, picking her up in his arms. He reaches his fingers to his neck and the pulse is faint. 

"Well, now you've really done it," an associate sighs and Adam grits his teeth.

"Shut the fuck up, and call 911." 

"I hate to break it to you, but that's only going to cause more issue." 

"Just do it!" Adam screeches as the associate rolls his eyes. 

"Whatever man," he sighs as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, "You really fucked this one up to say the least."

*

"This is so goooood," Michael moans, taking another massive mouthful of my homemade macaroni and cheese. 

"It better be," I smirk, taking a small bite, "It took more than enough time." 

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy every minute of it," he winks, taking another bite, "I know I did." 

"What? You loved watching every minute of me slaving away in the kitchen." 

"That's not what I said," he chuckles, licking his lips, "I loved watching every minute of you doing something you enjoy so much." 

"Yeah," I sigh, forking a couple of noodles, "I do love to cook." 

"Then why don't you want to cook more often?" he asks, "I'm not saying I want you to cook more, but if you love it you should do it." 

"I don't know," I sigh, looking down at my half-finished meal, "Cooking was always something that I did with my Dad," I begin. Michael's face falls in immediate realization before I go on, "He taught me most of what I know. Sure, my Mum taught me some, but she was always more of a lone cooker. My Dad and I would make a lot of meals together... that's how I know most everything in the kitchen." 

"I know it's hard, but don't let him take away the things you love." 

"You're right, but I can't help but miss those days in the kitchen when everything seemed to be good." 

"But things are good now," Michael smiles, reaching across the table to hold my hand, "And cooking can be yours and your Mother's thing now, if it helps. Or maybe it can be our thing." he winks, making me smile and roll my eyes playfully. 

"Whatever," I smirk as he pull my hand to his lips to kiss it, "I just wish it didn't bother me so much." 

"Maybe the more you do it, the more used to it you'll get." 

"Maybe," I sigh, looking into his eyes as he smiles with sorrow. 

"I love you," he grins, kissing my hand again. 

"I love you too, Mi-" 

I'm cut off by the ringer on Michael's phone and I furrow my brows as he looks towards it. 

"It must be someone from the office," he murmurs, reaching across the table to pick up the phone, "Michael Jackson speaking." 

I watch as Michael stands from the table to take a few steps behind the table before his face goes white, as if he's seen a ghost. 

"Oh my God," he sighs, covering his mouth with his hand, "She wanted to call me? Why would I be her emergency contact? What? That doesn't ma-.... You want me to come to the hospital?" he sighs, shaking his head, "I'll be there soon. Thank you." 

"What happened? Is everything okay?" I ask as he hangs up the phone, shaking his head. 

"It's Lisa. She's been assaulted."