"Let me get this straight," Eric put his head down slowly, "she gave
you five season tickets for the London Athletic Dome? Just handed them
to you with a 'Happy Christmas?' What did you give her?"
Mike shrugged, unconcerned. "All kinds of things, little things. She
kept making a big deal out of the silly little things and she's the one
that took me to another country, gave me season tickets, almost died-"
Terry snorted. "You have to stop bringing that up; you'll just remind
yourself of Helen."
Once again, Mike only shrugged. He felt like things were finally
slowing down again, an entire month after Gemma's little accident and
then some. He was terribly confused about a few things she had said and
done of recent, it being February tenth. He had the strangest feeling
that she despised Valentine's Day and was trying to let him know
gently. It was Eric that came to his rescue and snapped his fingers,
realizing just what her problem was.
"I bet she doesn't like getting anything. She probably hasn't felt
comfortable with anyone in a while and isn't quite ready to celebrate
the little holidays. You have to ask yourself now, what you are going
to do about it? You can suck it up and let her go without a fight, or
you can tie her up and tell her you like her shirt and hope she doesn't
kick you in the-"
"GOT IT!" Mike cried, clamping a hand over Eric's mouth as Carol
Cleveland walked in.
Carol smirked and took off her light jacket, draping it over the
nearest unoccupied chair and waved to the girl just outside the door.
"Thanks for the ride, Jess!"
The "Jess" girl Carol was waving to stepped inside the room for a
second, opening her mouth to say "no problem" or "don't mention it" but
cut herself off with a sharp intake of breath as she caught sight of
Mike standing to get a glass of water. She pointed at Mike, discreetly,
looking at Carol with a healthy amount of horror in her eyes before he
returned to his seat and looked up, faint concern on his features. He
recognized her but wasn't quite able to place a name for her; she was
the nurse that had stared at him at the hospital when he was visiting
Gemma, wasn't she?
Jess cleared her throat. "No problem, Carol."
Squinted eyes were passed along the table to each other as Mike ignored
the girl, who hadn't moved a muscle. Gray was starting to get sick of
seeing them avoid each other's faces, Jess every once and a while
sneaking a peek at him with innocent eyes as he stared down the side of
the glass in his hand, examining the fingerprints on it. Carol elbowed
Mike with a frown.
"You know each other?"
Jess nodded hysterically as Mike shrugged. "I met him when he was
visiting his girlfriend in the hospital."
He had the strangest urge to stand up and tell he'd said one word to
her, and he'd been so distracted he would hardly have noticed her
presence had she not gaped at him from the doorway every chance she
got, but he actually bit his tongue and turned away, face reddening
with suppressed discomfort.
Eric snickered softly. "Don't worry, Mike, you're taken."
Jess blushed and started backing away, throwing her gaze down. "Better
go now,"
The others nodded and she backed out the door, turning to walk away.
Mike shook his head slowly, letting out a strangely uncomfortable
breath and forcing a smile to Terry. He smirked back and shook his head
as well, unconcerned as it was.
"So," Gemma smiled as she squirmed on the couch, "why the nervous
looks?"
Mike smiled back and sighed, trying to force himself to think. "I just
can't shake the feeling your brothers are going to burst in and beat
the living shit out of me if I were to touch you."
"This is YOUR house; I don't think they're going to randomly show up
and pulverize you. Besides, they'd stop before you died." She smiled
and giggled as he looked massively relieved.
"I guess that's true. Second excuse?" He waited for her to nod before
continuing. "I'm not going to accidentally destroy your stitches and
hurt you."
She rolled her eyes. "Give it a rest and come here, please." She patted
the space of couch she wasn't sprawled out on and waited for him to sit
next to her. As soon as that was completed she put her arms around his
neck and waited anxiously for him to kiss her. When he hesitated she
saw a look of uncertainty cross his face, like he wasn't fully
convinced she was herself, but then it was gone and he was kissing her,
sighing lazily, unknowingly lowering himself and Gemma to the pillows
on the couch. With minimal situating, they were laying together on the
couch, Mike nervously letting his weight rest on Gemma's frail frame.
Upon hearing no protest or painful squeaks, he allowed his mind to
drift into places he hardly ventured into anymore and awaited the
inevitable.
The interlude continued for quite a while until Gemma did cry out in
pain.
"Sorry! Sorry!" He started to say it again when Gemma shifted her
shoulders and impatiently pushed her lips to his again, struggling not
to giggle as he squeaked in surprise and sighed, making a small noise
as she pulled him down onto her again. For the first time since Mike
had first experience Gemma's kiss, he felt like he was dumbstruck with
her touch. He was fretting about what to do with his hands, fretting
about how close their bodies were, fretting about the way he could feel
her stomach expand to take a breath, and how he felt like he truly
wanted her to take off that shirt she was wearing. In the rare case a
thought similar to that did strike up, he'd yank himself away and avoid
eye contact for a few moments until he gained control of the situation
and could look her in the eye without feeling his face turn into a
flame. Now he practically embraced the strange, erotic feeling in him
and felt arms tighten around her and pull her toward him, air hissing
over each other as breathing quickened slightly. Memories flooded
Gemma's mind, memories of him punching the greasy-haired mugger right
in the face, blushing at little things with indignation stamped on his
face at the sheer idea of him being so fragile, and the pool.
Shirtless, wet, at the pool. She tugged his shirt absent-mindedly, not
hearing the front door push open as Angela walked in with parents not
far behind.
They took their wonderful time, slipping shoes off, hanging up coats,
talking to each other quietly as they slipped into the living area.
Angela gasped and laughed as two other gasps emitted from behind her
and immediately the two bodies on the couch sprang apart, one sliding
behind the other with a few dirty words. Gemma was shoved to the edge
of the couch, quick to hide her beet-red face under her mop of hair as
Mike buried his head under her shoulder, still muttering.
Mike's father, whom Gemma had heard had taken the news that she had
escorted Mike to Vermont a little harshly, was now glaring at them with
a dropped jaw. With a sudden, sly grin he reached forward and tugged
Mike up by a handful of his son's hair, suppressing a laugh as Mike
whimpered and closed his eyes.
"Could've killed her, but you couldn't wait, could you?" He teased.
Gemma laughed and covered her mouth as he shifted his gaze to her.
"Poor girl!" He mused aloud, immediately shifting his gaze back to Mike.
"Her idea!" He accused suddenly, leaving Gemma to peel off into
laughter again, this time accompanied by Mike himself. When his father
finally let loose his hand on his hair, he let his head flop to her
shoulder, sighing in relief. She tangled her fingers into his already
messed up hair and smiled gently at Angela, who was staring at them
ecstatically.
"You two are adorable!" She bawled, placing her hands next to her face
in a mock pretty-girl pose.
Mike flushed slightly and stood up, carefully avoiding Gemma's precious
side. "Really Angela, you have a husband and privacy, why don't you go
be adorable?"
She placed her hands on her hips. "It's cuter to watch you do it, Mike."
He wrinkled his nose. "That's creepy."
Gemma smiled nervously, sitting up slowly as Mike wandered out of the
living room to see what his parents were doing in the kitchen. As soon
as his shadow disappeared from the carpet in the living room, Angela
whipped her head back towards Gemma and sat next to her on the couch.
"Has he told you yet?" She asked urgently.
Gemma lifted her eyebrows. "Told me what?"
"He loves you, duh!" She gently tapped the girl on the head.
Barking a soft laugh, Gemma looked away. "No, 'not yet,'" she lifted
fingers in quotation.
Angela made a face. "Damn him."
Before she had the opportunity to ask Angela if he'd said it to her, or
if she just felt he did love her, Mike sauntered back into the room and
rubbed the back of his neck, prompting Gemma to stand up and hug him
while his arms were occupied. He gave her a gentle one-armed hug before
sitting next to Angela, face thoughtful.
She smiled wickedly at him as Gemma walked out of the room with a
small, pained look, muttering something about hydrogen peroxide under
her breath. "You haven't told her yet,"
He looked at her wildly, making sure she hadn't heard from the
bathroom. "No, I haven't! Now hush, Angie, can't have you spoiling this
all for me; not gonna scare her."
"I'm telling you now, Michael Palin, you don't tell her soon," Angela
paused, her eyes fluttering in annoyance, "I'll tell her! And I'll tell
her everything you said to her while she was sleeping."
Mike gave her a startled look mingled with anger. "Stop meddling, I'm
not stupid!"
Voices were raising in the other room, causing both parents to
carefully walk in to see daughter and son fighting claw and tooth as
Gemma walked past calmly.
"Tell her on Valentine's Day-"
"No, I'm not going to embrace that corny holiday." He muttered,
standing up.
February fourteenth was there before he knew it, and before he knew it
he had invited Gemma over to return the favor of her constant cooking
and such for him over the past few months. He had begged an easy recipe
from his sister and was currently trying to place everything correctly
on the table. Just as all the silverware was put in an acceptable
order, he heard bare feet pad on the floor behind him and a small gasp.
"Ooh! Mikey cooked!" Gemma dropped her denim coat to the floor and
smiled at him wearily, her uniform hanging off her shoulders in a way
that reminded him how terribly fragile she still was.
He smiled weakly at her. "How are you doing?"
"Fine, in fact, excellent. You cooked?" She asked, stepping closer.
He nodded. "Yeah-" Before he could utter another word his breath was
taken away from him rather rudely as she stepped closer and closed the
gap between them, making him reel onto the surface of the table behind
him, tugging her after him. There was the crashing sound of glass
breaking but he hardly cared, ignoring the whining noises of Boxer in
the other room as Gemma's light weight pressed on him, making him go
slightly crazy.
"Hey, wait-" He started to protest as she rearranged herself on him,
trying to get more comfortable.
She grinned. "You have a microwave?"
"Yeah, but-"
"That's what it's for, my friend, now shush!" She kissed him again,
giggling as he agreed with a soft noise and kissed her back.
He could picture it now: Angela bursting in with an insinuating glare
as they kissed on the kitchen table, both accusations of sex and
marriage on her tongue, as if telling him that she knew he was thinking
constantly about those things, and he wasn't. Startling things happened
now and again, like the simple fact he'd stop in the middle of a room
and think of some little thing she'd said or done, laugh, and think to
himself about how great she was. Symptoms that he hadn't felt he'd had
in a long time, and it honestly made him start thinking about sucking
in all his dignity and telling her just how he felt. Feelings were
dangerous territory for men, however, and he fully embraced the art of
keeping secrets from her. He'd tell her, sure, but he was NOT going to
be the first one.
"Michael," she started, her eyes concerned. He swallowed heavily and
focused his eyes on hers. He started to ask her what was wrong, but she
slid down, pulling him up with her as she stood. He remained standing,
awkwardly, and gripped her hand tightly. Whatever it was she wanted to
say, it had died on her lips and she was left smiling sheepishly as he
licked his lips and glanced at the broken glass on the floor.
Reluctantly he released her hand and bent to pick up the bigger pieces,
thanking Gemma as she too knelt and began to pick at the carcass of the
before perfect glass.
She smiled sheepishly again. "Sorry about this,"
"No problem. I don't think I need eight, anyway. Most I ever have over
is six, really."
She smirked playfully. "Can you fit six people in here?"
He swatted her with a free hand, unconcerned anymore with the sudden
vision of her in his head, white dress, flash to a starry night sky she
was staring up at, flash to face knit up in pain, flash to her standing
with a tiny pink blanket in her arms, two tiny arms waving around.
There was no sound in the movie in his head, and he'd specifically seen
his sister in at least two of the poses, but her face had been
unceremoniously replaced with Gemma's, and when he shook the vision
from his head, he was startled to see that he had sat himself down on
the couch in the living room, Gemma curled up next to him. He
remembered time passing quietly, silently. He remembered their small
conversations, the conversation about how they never seemed to have to
talk at all, but then the dishes needed doing, sitting needed sitting,
and sleeping needing to be insured. Gemma yawned, and with hardly a
goodnight, kissed him on the cheek, thanked him profusely, and waved as
she walked to her car. He couldn't quite move, and ended up falling
asleep there with the light on, thoughts locked in his head as he shook
the various images from his mind one at a time.
"You want to kiss her, you want to marry her!" Angela cooed gently to
Mike, who was sleeping peacefully.
He shifted and yawned. He mumbled under his breath, unintelligible
words that not even he knew or could have identified.
Angela giggled. "Gemma,"
Mike took a deep breath and opened his eyes, glancing at his watch with
a distracted look. "I don't know about you, but I'm slightly disturbed
you're staring at me sleeping."
"Someone's here to see you!" She ignored him and lifted Charlie up onto
his lap. Mike let the child distract him, tired but pleased enough with
this.
Gemma walked into the room and bent forward, groping blindly for her
shoes as she did so, startling Angela thoroughly.
"How long-?"
"I left these here last night. I usually don't wear shoes at all."
Gemma said in a bemused voice while Mike toyed with baby Charlie on his
lap.
Outside there was a loud, glass-crunching crash and Mike knew with a
sinking heart that his car had just been hit by the next door neighbor,
a raging drunk. When they opened the door and stared, it was hardly
acceptable to see a small tree collapsed on top of the small car, the
hood smashed. Mike let a stream of curse words and wanted to scream,
but Gemma looked ecstatic.
Before he could figure out why, she gave him a strange look. "You have
money, right?"
He nodded, and she nodded calmly in return.
As the three of them sat together, Mike watching balefully as the tow
truck hauled his totaled car away, pretending to burst into tears as
the hubcap rolled from the wheel and into the yard. Nobody bothered to
pick it up as they drove away, and Mike was left there in between
sister and girlfriend, surprised at how little he felt like he could
say to Gemma in Angela's presence.
"So, Mikey, we have two months until your birthday, what shall we get
you?" Angela asked, grinning as he turned to her, a cocked eyebrow on
his face. He shook his head slowly before shrugging with a defeated
look. Gemma snickered once.
"A car, maybe?" She asked, laughing as he lifted his head and looked
like an idea had just lit up a small light bulb over his head.
He smiled. "There's this great car Murphy Grounds has in his back yard.
His wife is forcing him to sell it because it's an old converted
Corvette and money's tight. It's made for British roads, but it has the
Corvette body and has a white racing strip right down the middle-"
"How many horse?" Gemma interrupted.
"Three-fifty horse and a spoiler on the back fin. It's a great racing
car, and it's a little over ten thousand pounds right now...oh what I
wouldn't give for that car." He said dreamily, walking out to bring in
the old car hubcap with a resigned look.
As if this idea had reminded him somehow of something else, he stood
and walked into his bedroom, coming back out with a small piece of
paper which he handed to Gemma.
She glanced at the paper and gasped.
Mike smiled. "The guys talked me into getting you something to equal
the trip and the tickets."
With a sneaky look, Angela read over Gemma's shoulder and read the
note. The "note" turned out to be receipt that was for an American made
guitar, a brand new twelve-string. She gasped and looked to Gemma for a
reaction, but her head had been replaced by a vacant space, and the
same had gone for Michael, and when she looked around the corner of the
hallway and giggled to see Gemma pressing the fragile-looking Mike up
against the wall, his hands pinned up near his shoulders, straining now
and again to break free from her tight hold, for what exactly Angela
didn't know. They jumped apart sheepishly as she leaned against the
wall and smiled at them, her arms folded in a knowing way.
For whatever reason, Mike looked very innocent and weak, his smile shy
and unsure as Angela started to coo at him as Gemma bolted into his
room to retrieve the case for her guitar. A loud squeal issued from
there, and Mike pushed Angela back with a begging look before stepping
inside and closing the door behind him, unaware that Angela had
answered the door to reveal Mrs. Guffry-Mike's landlady.
She looked over her thick-rimmed glasses at Angela, who smiled,
introduced herself, and made a quick excuse for Mike's temporary MIA
status. "You see, I'm Mike's sister Angela; he's busy at the moment,
giving his girlfriend a late Christmas gift. They'll be out in a
moment-" at that precise moment, a large thud and a high-pitched giggle
emitted from the bedroom, followed by another thud.
Mike grinned crookedly at Gemma, who hugged him tight around the neck
while he flailed his arms and tried to grab onto a small piece of her
that wasn't "inappropriate" or "private" for any reason. The best he
had was her shoulder, and as soon as he grabbed her shoulder, his left
hand automatically grabbed her waist to pull her closer, but she
giggled. In fact, it was a very loud giggle, and the moment before he
had felt his back strike the wall behind him, making a loud thud noise.
Oh, what Angela must be thinking...
"Oh, is he?" Mrs. Guffry asked nervously, flashing an aged smile to
Angela.
She smiled nervously as well. "I'll go get him, if you want. I'm sure
he can, er, pick up where he left off after you tell him whatever it is
you need to tell him."
She turned before Mrs. Guffry could answer and walked up to the bedroom
door, pausing before she knocked, smiling weakly as she heard Mike
groan and Gemma shriek before another thud. Finally Angela knocked and
was shocked to see Mike yank open the door with a wild look, his hair
slightly out of shape as he stepped out, peering over her head to see
what was the matter.
"What gives, Angie?"
"Your landlady's here and she has something to say to you; I have no
idea what it is she wants, but she looks real nervous." Angela said,
stopping to laugh as Gemma reappeared with her guitar and a ruined
ponytail. She walked into the living area before Mike, sitting to play
for a moment, relishing the beautiful sound the guitar made before
realizing she had left a few picks in her jacket. She rose to get them,
leaving Mike and Angela with Mrs. Guffry, who was busy trying to look
like she was truly sorry.
"Mike, dear," she lifted a hand to pat him on the shoulder, "I'm so
sorry, boy."
He frowned and bent a bit to look the elderly woman in the eye. "What's
happened?"
"My lawyer alerted me that I owe some money to my ex-husband, and since
he has custody of my son," she paused, knowing that it must sound
strange coming from her, an eighty-some old woman, "well, my son's
become quite greedy, and he has all the legal power over my ex-husband,
who is in a nursing home, and they're tapping my funds. I'm forced to
sell this building which means you'll have to move out in the next two
months." She patted his shoulder once more before lowering her hands to
her knitting bag, where two needles were poking out, a small bit of
scarf hanging off the nearest needle.
"Well, when exactly am I supposed to leave?" He asked, frowning deeper;
this was not shaping up to be a good day at all.
She shrugged one frail shoulder, her face uncertain. "May fifth
deadline, I think the notice is."
Mike cursed mentally and turned to see Gemma standing there with a
small look of pity.
"Alright, thanks for letting me know, Mrs. Guffry." He muttered,
showing her the door. He started collecting clutter at once, gathering
it into heaps and leaving it in an empty box. As he started to empty
out a top drawer, a heavy white book fell from the edge of the open
drawer. Angela bent to pick up the book, but Gemma beat her to it,
flicking it opening up to a random page to see an old photograph of a
young, eighteen year old Michael standing next to a slightly older
brunette with a sparkling smile. The look on his face perfectly matched
the next photo, which showed him and the brunette years later, lips
locked in front of a large group of people. For an instant Gemma was
jealous that he had been able to have that event to live through, but
then realized how ridiculous she was acting and smiled weakly at the
pretty brunette pictured.
"She's pretty," she said earnestly, looking up into Mike's eyes. He
looked massively relieved before setting the next block of things into
the near-full box. He stood behind her and turned the page, trying to
find a picture of Angela at the wedding, but the next page was an
ultra-sound. Gemma smiled at the small, clear photo and looked at the
small, nearly fully formed child.
"Uh, tha-" He started to say, pointing to next page as he turned it.
She looked at him with a half-unsure smile. "You had a lot to be
thankful for. Don't be ashamed of it, not just because of me. I'm
nobody to judge-in fact I'm incredibly jealous you were so close to
domestic happiness."
Mike cast his eyes down. "I-"
Angela jumped eagerly, which drew his attention to her, and he trailed
off, his face turning an unhealthy red color. "Angela, please go away."
"No!" She returned, placing an indignant face over her own.
Mike groaned and grabbed Gemma's shoulders, attempting to pull her into
a tight hug. Angela giggled again as Gemma pulled his head to her
shoulder with a sympathetic look.
"Hey!" Gemma said suddenly. "I've got a basement! You could stay with
me until you find a permanent place."
Angela's immediate reaction was mental, but loudly played in her head.
"What a shallow cover for an invitation to live with her!" She mused.
Ther was only a split second look of indecision on Mike's face before
he frowned. "You're serious?"
She shrugged with an irate _expression. "No, I was putting you on,
Michael."
He grinned sheepishly and kissed her cheek, promptly ignoring Angela's
loud coo.
Over the next few weeks, the slow movement of Mike's belongings to
Gemma's house began and took on a healthy pace. When he "broke" the
news to the guys that he was about three weeks away from living with
Gemma, "officially," they literally took it as an omen of marriage,
which only irked Mike more.
"I'm going to be mooching off her, not the best circumstances to say or
do anything." He retorted.
Eric smirked. "You'd think you'd learn to listen to me after a while,
you stupid git!"
Mike rolled his eyes carefully. "Right, so you're going to suggest
what?"
"Show her you're grateful she's putting you up and maybe sneak in an 'I
love you' or something." He covered Mike's mouth as he opened it to
object with a blush. "If she knew half of what you said to her when she
was inches from death in that hospital you'd never have to worry about
her again; she'd be totally devoted to you. Just like if you heard what
she said to me-"
"What did she say to you? And when?" He interrupted, his eyes narrowing
dangerously.
Eric smiled and waved his hand in an unconcerned way. "It was ages ago
when she told me how afraid she was how you'd react to her being kicked
out of her house because of Jonas. You should have seen her crying over
that; she was so sure you'd hate her or you wouldn't understand."
"What did she say though?"
"Uh, 'He's going to think I'm just a stupid little girl, I'm worth
nothing anymore!' and 'If I ever do tell him I love him it'll be a long
time, but-' cue you and Mr. Terry Genius interrupting anything
juicier." He gave himself a very strange _expression. "I feel like a
woman."
"You are," Gray said seriously.
Gemma was sitting carefully in her post at the hospital when Jess
walked in right behind Jameison.
"Oh, hey Brad." She said with a small smile as she poured a mug of tea
for herself and Jeremy.
Jess sighed. "Where did you meet Mike?"
For an instant Gemma considered screaming at her, maybe just to scare
her off, but it was a temporary solution to a permanent problem at that
point, and she was tired of avoiding it.
"I saved his life," she said calmly.
"I don't think he likes me very much-" She said with a small, unsure
smile.
"You scare the shit out of him!" Gemma reasoned. "It's not every day
that he gets ogled at by strangers-at least that he knows about I'm
sure."
Jess blushed. "I don't mean to ogle, I suppose."
Gemma smiled wearily. "I don't blame you, I guess. He can be absolutely
adorable."
As they agreed over this simple fact, Jameison shivered. "Why is it I
feel gay just being here?"
"You know you agree with us, that's why." Gemma replied, grinning as he
scowled at her.
"Well, Jess, I'm glad you've resolved your mental problems, but we've
got to get the cast off Miss Nelson and make sure her collar bone is
mending alright-"
"As in Abigail Nelson?" Gemma interrupted.
Jameison nodded. "Yup-"
"I'm coming. Jeremy, watch the calls for me." She handed him her walkie
and followed Jess and Jameison up the elevator to a small waiting room
where Abby was sitting alone.
She glanced up and grinned. "Hey! How are you doing?" She asked, making
a stabbing motion.
Gemma grabbed her wound and made a face, acting like she was in pain
for an instant. In reality she had just had her stitches removed a few
days ago and was using all sorts of ointments and such to keep the
appearance of the scar down, though the mark was inevitable. The scar
was going to be a small line about four inches long from surgery; it
was right along the line of her bra though, which meant it was hardly
visible in any case. She didn't mind much, but was very body-conscious
and was starting to dress conservatively as if the appearance of her
bare arms would show off a different ugly scar.
"Fine, actually," she replied, letting her side go with a smile.
Abby smiled dreamily. "Finally getting this damn thing off," she lifted
up the cast that stretched from her hand to just above her elbow,
holding it in a permanently bent position, until now.
"I must warn you, if you wake up without a kidney-" Jameison started,
lifting a small saw.
"Cut the crap, Brad, I'm sick of that ploy." Gemma insisted.
Abby turned her head away and allowed him to saw off the cast,
stretching her elbow luxuriously as it was freed. She looked up over
her hand and smiled feebly. "I want to thank you,"
"For what?" Gemma asked.
"For taking me in, for trying to help me, for saving me! Oh, and for
helping me meet Eric." She added with a sheepish smile.
Gemma smiled. "Things just keep getting better, huh?"
"I suppose-hey, I heard Mike moved in with you, is that true?" She
asked, leaning forward as if it was a secret. Jameison leaned in too,
as if he really wanted in on this secret.
Gemma shrugged and nodded. "He's getting evicted from his apartment
building, so I'm putting him up. Funny thing is, I don't think he's
leaving-not that I want him to, mind you." Her eyes sparkled pleasantly.
"Leaving?"
"The house, he's probably going to live with me extensively."
Abigail pressed more, her mischievous smile concealed perfectly. "Until
what?"
"Don't talk like that," she shook a finger at her friend.
Abby smiled. "Well, it's either until you break up with him, or never.
Which one is it?"
Gemma shrugged and then gave Abby a sheepish look. "I've got this thing
I need to ask him, but I have no idea how to go about it..."
Before Abby could compliment Gemma on her ability to change the
subject, she launched into a long-winded explanation of her situation,
and Abby couldn't help but feel excited for her; it was a wonder the
man didn't drop to one knee any day for the things she did for him.
Abby's advice had been simple, and now that he was there every night
when she got home, it felt a little more normal. With a hefty grunt,
Gemma tossed her bag to the nearest couch and bent to untie her beat up
high tops. Once they released her feet from their prison, she walked
over to her bag and sifted through it, looking for nothing in
particular. Rather savagely she was attacked from behind, shrieking
into the silent house as a pair of hands lifted her off her feet and
spun around.
"Michael!" She laughed and felt her toes touch back to the soft carpet
before she spun around and looked at Mike's amused smile with a grin.
He lowered his face closer to hers. "I'm tempted to tell you I cooked
again."
Inhaling discreetly, Gemma determined that he had, and wrapped her arms
around his neck slowly, smiling ever slower as he lifted her off her
feet again.
"Let me guess," he smiled, "you have a microwave?"
She nodded and pulled him into a soft kiss, waiting for the familiar
feel of his hands on her hips and her face. Just as it was about to
happen, she jerked away. "Oh, I have a huge favor to ask of you, but I
can't tell you all the details."
He frowned. "What sort of favor?"
She shifted her feet nervously. "I need to borrow about four thousand
pounds from you, any time this week."
"Why?"
"That's the detail I can't tell you!" She moaned and put her head on
his shoulder. "But I promise you I'll pay back every penny by my
birthday, alright? Every single penny."
He sighed and put his head back. "Four thousand? Shit, Gemma-"
"I know it's a lot to just give someone for no reason at all, but trust
me, it's worth it."
He squinted. "No reason at all?"
"Well, to you it's no reason at all, to me it's a big deal."
He squirmed. "I dunno, I mean-"
"You trust me, right?" She played with his hair, trying to appear
honest, not like she was bubbling under the surface, waiting for the
money, waiting to spend it.
He nodded. "Yeah, I do. Alright, fine."
She squealed in happiness and kissed him. "Thank you!"
He rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should owe you that much for putting
me up in your house and all the other crap you've done, right? What the
hell was my problem?"
Gemma giggled. "I wasn't cute enough, that's all."
Mike laughed. "I suppose that was the problem. Now, let's eat." He
gestured to the kitchen.
"Oh, but you cooked!" She teased and made to push him against the wall.
He made a face. "Don't push it,"
She laughed again and walked around him to the kitchen, sitting down
with a sigh.
The next day when Gemma woke up, at her place was a check for four
thousand pounds. She pocketed it nervously and left the house early,
securing the money and the cause it was for. By the end of Thursday
night, she was the most at ease she had ever felt. On her way home, she
heard her own voice play on the radio, the cryptic eulogy she had
written, just a segment. For some reason, when the lines were
rearranged it made an internal rhyming poem, and she had won some sort
of contract when Quentin had entered it in a regional contest. Now the
radio played it whenever a famous star died. Wondering blankly who had
died today, Gemma waited for her voice to stop. When she walked into
the house and dropped her bag to the floor, Mike peered at her with a
scowl.
"I heard you on the radio again, what gives?"
She shrugged. "The eulogy I wrote had some internal poetry in it or
something like that. It won a contest. Now it's on the radio a bunch."
He frowned with a doubtful _expression, but she had come over and sat
herself on his lap, legs folded under her carefully.
"I'm tired."
With a mischievous grin, Mike leaned back into the pillows of the couch
and felt her flop onto his chest. A few moments of this led to him
shifting so he was over her, kissing her gently as she closed her eyes
against the light coming from the floor lamp. He felt something inside
him shift uncomfortably and thought for a moment that he had just
imploded, but the feeling passed as a knock came at the door. He
started to sit up to answer it, but Gemma jerked him down closer; a key
entered the lock. It turned, and Noah's voice floated into the living
room. They started to sit up, but not quick enough; her father and
eight brothers stared in horror as Mike tried to pull his weight from
Gemma before they could see it.
Her father trembled for a moment. "Come here, boy," he motioned for the
basement door. Mike stood guiltily and passed all eight of the boys
plus Noah, who stood apologetically, and followed Stanley Thompson into
the basement.
"Now listen here! Her stiches may be gone but she still almost died
there, Mike! If you can't respect that-"
"Now hold on!" Mike interrupted. "How do you think you can show up
after exiling her and scaring the shit out of her for seven whole years
and take the reins? She's made it this far without you, I don't think
you have the right to step in and play daddy anymore! You're gonna have
to work for that privilege again. You can't make up for all the years
you've lost either, so I don't want you to treat her like an eighteen
year old; she's an adult and it's time you realized that."
Stanley's mouth moved in horror for a moment before Mike turned and
shakily climbed the stairs, blood pumping through his veins. When he
surfaced, Gemma was sitting carefully at the kitchen table, hands
folded on her lap. She looked up upon his arrival, and her face emitted
a great sense of relief. She stood and hugged him tightly, happy to see
him alive.
"He wasn't too bad was he?" She whispered.
He shrugged. "Not as bad as I was to him."
Gemma frowned and tried to speak, but her father had appeared again,
and her mouth clipped shut.
"I'm sorry, Gemma. I must start treating you like the woman you are;
I've missed the little girl too much, I suppose." He seemed humbled by
Mike's explosion, and it was a good thing.
Gemma nodded slowly. "Thanks, Daddy."
That being settled, it seemed there was nothing more to do until Mike's
birthday. April was crawling by like a slug, and already Gemma felt
anxiety about the coming month. The only other excitement that came was
Angela once again making an appearance and cooing every ten seconds at
Mike and Gemma when they shared anything from a hug to a spit in the
eye. The tiniest of arguments arose, and before it even completely
showed, it was over.
Beginning of argument.
"I'm telling you that I didn't move the box, alright?"
"Well, it's not there and I know I put it there. " Mike pouted his lip.
Gemma made a face at him. "So blame me and not the dog, right?"
Mike gasped theatrically. "Are you saying my dog would hide my box of
books?"
"Are you saying I would?"
"I think the cat did it." He mumbled, and she reached behind his bed
(which, ironically, only Boxer slept in) and pulled up a large
cardboard box filled with books.
Mike looked up sheepishly. "Whoops."
End of argument. All done.
No battle plan, none at all. He decided that he'd just do it, and see
if agreed with him later. Almost like jumping off some cliff only to
discover that maybe there isn't a lake under you after all. He rolled
over and shook Gemma's shoulders, waiting for her to wake up that fine
Saturday morning, his birthday.
"Gem, wake up." He begged and shook her harder. "Before my confidence
dies, please." He mumbled, and her eyes flicked open.
She stretched and smiled. "Happy birthday,"
He smiled weakly, "Yes, well-"
"I have to go get your gift-"
"Not yet!" He said hotly and pulled her down before she even was sat up
all the way.
"Why not?" She whined, anxious to go bring it home.
He sighed nervously. "It might taint my sincerity."
She squinted an eye at him. "What are you saying, or not saying?"
He sat up then, pulling her up after him, waiting until she had
arranged her t-shirt, and then he put both hands on her shoulders and
took a shaky breath, actually worrying Gemma for a split second. She
wanted to ask him if everything was alright, but he interrupted her
before she even took a breath.
"I love you, Gemma."
A small squeak spilled from her, mouth opening in awe. How long had she
waited to hear that? More than a year, more than she ever wanted to go
again without hearing it, and she had gone nearly an entire year of
seeing him without even an "I like you." Another squeak spilled from
her mouth and she threw herself into his lap.
"I love you too!" She laughed and he let out an enormous, shaky sigh,
feeling a little sick to his stomach.
She hugged him around the neck and laughed into his ear, kissing the
side of his head every once and a while as he tried to regain the
ability to talk. It felt so wonderful to finally say it, his fear of
being the first one finally squashed. For a minute he thought she'd
started crying, but she pulled away caught his gaze before she crushed
her face to his and he squeaked much like she had before. The kiss was
something different than he was used to, this time a little more
serious. Not so much kidding around, or playful; this was a business
kiss. Its purpose was to mess with his mind, and it succeeded. He
pulled her closer and tried to keep his mind from wondering, but it
wondered on its own, flashing words and pictures in his head that he
knew were not going to make anything better for him at that point, so
vulnerable.
What the hell was going on?
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