Warning: Mild Adult Content; 15+

Tuesday, May 17th, 1983

Havenhurst, California

8:14 A.M.

After another intimate moment and a quick shower, we laid in bed together fiddling with each other's hands in comfortable silence. I didn't want to really say much but it seemed as though there was a lot on Michael's mind as he continued to glance between my hands and my eyes, it made me giggle after awhile. He cracked a grin in response, fiddling with my ring finger on my left hand.

"Tell me what's on your mind." I whispered. He kissed my hands and each of my fingertips to make me wait, I chuckled and whipped my head back. "Michael, come on."

"Ok, ok." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, "I had a dream last night..."

"Oh?" I felt my eyebrow raise, "A good dream, I hope." We began to thumb wrestle as we laid on our sides, facing each other. Michael's thumb was almost twice the size of mine I noticed as we battled it out.

"Parts of it, yeah..." His pink tongue darted out between his lips in concentration. I'd missed that look on his face. My thumb swerved his, dodging.

"Tell me." 

"There was this little girl in it." He tired to track my thumb in a circle, but it only made our thumbs rotate around and around for a moment. "She was unbelievably cute." I hummed, urging his to continue as our thumbs stilled for a moment. "Her- Well, she was... I was taking her to your house." My eyes met his.

"You were? Why?"

"You lived in this white mansion - she was coming over to visit you - and this younger woman was there, I think her name was Angela... I can't remember correctly, but I think that was it." My eyes went wide as my hand went limp in his.

"You know my assistant?" Angela hadn't been working for me for very long, but she's the best possible assistant I could have. I wondered how Michael knew about her. He blinked, setting his hand down and leaning his head against his elbow.

"You have an assistant finally?" He asked sounded genuinely surprised. I nodded my head.

"Yeah, and that's her name. Weird." I paused, "Have you met her?" He shook his head 'no'. "That's totally odd."

"Yeah..." Michael's teeth pulled in his bottom lip, running his pearly whites against the pink tissue and letting it go in succession. He glanced away, only to find my eyes again and grin. "She answered the doors of your place and didn't want to let me in at first, but I persuaded her otherwise." His grin turned into a smirk.

"Is that so?" While staring into his eyes I ran a finger down the valley of his chest, all the way down to his belly button and circling it. One of his hands caught mine, preventing my finger from tickling him among other things.

"Yes, then I found you in a black robe." His nose touched mine as we scooted closer to each other.

"Oh." I breathed out, lightly rubbing my nose against his. He still hadn't responded to my earlier question, and I wanted to know why this little girl he dreamt of was important enough for him to be bringing over to my house. "But what about the little girl, Michael?" He let out a small sigh, backing away from my face a little.

"I drew her, if you'd want to see?" He gave me an uncertain look, feeling vulnerable like whenever he'd offered to show me his drawings before. I nodded.

"I'd love to, please." With another smile, he twisted his torso to grab a yellow legal pad that had rested on the bedside table behind him. With one hand he flipped through the pages until he found the drawing he'd made earlier, now turning it around to show me. I almost gasped. "She's gorgeous, Michael. Wow..." I took the legal pad from him, moving to picture so I could see it better. I ended up rolling onto my back, holding the legal pad in the air above me as I examined it.

The little girl smiled at me from the page, full cheeks and all. Her eyes immediately reminded me of Michael's - they are his eyes, period - the shape, the light in them... Goodness, he's just such a wonderful drawer. The girl couldn't have been older then five, if even that old to begin with, and she gripped tightly to a stuffed rabbit wearing what looked like overalls, but the page ended before we could see it fully. Her jaw line looked familiar. Looking between her's and Michael's he gave me a look as my eyes narrowed in on him. I reached out a hand, politely grabbing him by the chin to turn his head first right then left and again.

"This girl was in your dream?" I asked, still examining the picture and him.

"Yes." He answered, sounding reluctant to continue telling me about it. "What're you-"

"Shh. I'm studying." Michael's facial expression shifted, but when I let go of his chin he rubbed it. "I didn't hold it too tight, did I?" 

"No, 'm fine." Then I noticed his cheeks.

"Michael, are you feeling alright?" I set down the legal pad, putting the back of my hand to his forehead to feel for a fever. He chuckled and gently removed my hand from his forehead.

"Never felt better, especially after last night. Why are you asking?" He weaved his fingers through mine, smiling down at me.

"Your cheeks. They're red, like really red. Not a blushing kind of red - and I haven't been teasing you - it's more of a 'I just ran four miles' red. I'm concerned is all... Is this something to do with your vitiligo?" He cringed slightly at the last word in my sentence. I cupped a hand to one of his cheeks, he put on of his hands over mine, keeping it there. 

"I... don't know what it is in all actuality." My mouth opened to accost him for neglecting his personal health, but he put a finger to my lips. "Don't. I know what you're going to say." I huffed after he removed my finger.

"What do you think I'm going to say exactly?"

"That I should go see a doctor or my dermatologist about it, and you're right, I should have done so when I first noticed it. But, I'm scared. What if it's something big? What if I have another disease I'll have to just live with because there's no cure for it yet?" He sighed sadly, closing his eyes and resting his head in my hand. Looking at him like this made my heart pound in my chest. I want him to be ok, to be healthy.

"We're making an appointment with your dermatologist and I'm going with you, ok?" That made him open his eyes.

"You'd wanna go with me?" He asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes." I confirmed with a small smile. He pecked my nose then leaned back on his elbow. I reached back around to grab the pad of paper, finding the detailed drawing once more. "You know who this little girl resembles?" I raised an eyebrow at him. Michael shrugged, trying to keep a grin off his face as he bit his bottom lip. He knows...

"Michael, this little girl resembles you." I told him, handing the pad back. Michael chuckled, holding the picture above us to point something out.

"That's true, but look at this." Laying his head back he pointed with his now free hand to the girl's cheekbones, delicately running his fingertip across the curvature. "That bone structure is all you, Ash." My eyes followed his finger moving to the tip of her nose, "That button nose? Your's." He smirked.

"So, are you suggesting what I think you are?" I couldn't help the spread of my lips across my teeth, he's infectious, but I've said this before.

"Maybe."

"She's ours?" He nodded, setting the paper down behind him.

"Yeah, our little girl." His hands found mine, our fingers threading together. And his voice, oh his voice... It was deep, silky, and making me feeling needy again even though I was more sore then I'd ever been before. My thighs pressed together, the tops of them covered by one of his white t-shirts that he let me borrow after we'd showered. I was entranced. My mouth cracked open, leaning closer to him as he did the same. Our noses brushed against each other. 

"Micha-"

"Shh." He leaned in, taking my bottom lip in between his kissing me ever so slowly. Our hands released each other, mine found space against the flat of his chest while his hands splayed against the curve of my back, bringing me against him. I felt the cotton of the shirt I was wearing rise up with the pull from his hands gripping the material, leaving my bottom exposed to the surrounding air. With ease I moved on top of him, sliding my leg over his waist, Michael did the remaining work of turning us over. His left hand moved down to grip one of my butt cheeks, eliciting a low moan from within me. His breath caught when he heard me, smiling with his eyes closed - this made us pause for a moment, but we leaned back together and continued to kiss each other in a tantalizing manner. But the door opened right when I was about to take his shirt off of myself.

"Hey, Mike. Man-" The intruder's eyes became huge when they looked up to see Michael and I in a compromised position, but then they smirked. "I knew y'all weren't broken up! Ash, don't mind me baby, I'll be in the corner. Y'all go ahead and continue..." Michael protested, sitting up with me against his chest and my legs on either side of his waist.

"Jermaine, get the hell outta my room!" He almost roared. His hands left my back, grabbing at the sheets to cover me up. What a gentleman... Jermaine had walked his happy ass to the desk, pulling out the chair so he could actually sit and watch like a sick-o. My features contorted to a look of disdain.

"After a show like that? Hell no!" He protested with that sickening smile still prominent on his lips. 

"For real, what the hell do you want?" I asked him, addressing him directly like he probably wanted me to. The change in his expression told me everything I needed to know.

"For starters I wouldn't mind seeing that pert ass of yours again, Briggs." Michael threw a book at his brother, surprising me. Jermaine dodged effortlessly, further enraging Michael... as well as further hardening his awoke member that stood at attention against my womanhood. "Don't you remember Mother telling us it's rude to throw things, Mike? Jeez, man."

"I don't give a damn, Jerm. Leave." Michael spoke with venom in his tone, making me believe there was something else going on between them other than him walking in on the two of us making out half naked. I watched Jermaine stand slowly, pushing the chair back in at the desk over my shoulder. He strutted back to the side of the bed closest to the bedroom door, pausing with his hands in his acid-wash jean pockets.

"I'll come back later, Mike. Consider this being your notice to get outta bed for once..." With those words spoken Jermaine left the room, closing the wooden door behind his gently. My head turned back to Michael.

"What was that all about?" Silence. "Is there something going on between you two?" More silence from Michael. "Talk to me, please." I gripped his shirt to me, gaining only physical closeness from him as his eyes bore holes into the back of the door. Sighing, I let him go and climbed off of him to find my belongings scattered around on the floor. Michael shifted on the bed, swinging both his legs over the side and put his head in his hands. This concerned me as I watched him eventually run his hands through his curls roughly, then glance up at me.

"He..." Michael sighed. I let my knee give against the carpet, my butt meeting it with a quiet thump as I began to sit crisscrossed apple sauce - then I remembered my lack of underwear and decided to sit like a mermaid with my legs together. Michael noticed my maneuver and chuckled lightly. "He's been trying to convince me to... Well, my father thinks it would be a good idea to do another album with my brothers." I blinked. "It's because of the success of Thriller."

"OH. Ok, that makes sense actually." He frowned. "From a businessman's point of view." Michael nodded at the second half of my statement.

"That's exactly the problem! I want to be a solo act now; after Triumph and the LIVE album I told them I was done. No more. But they continuously bother me about it and try to persuade my resolve, it's infuriating!" I leaned forward, my elbow resting on the carpet and my jaw in my hand looking at him with a blank expression. A grin spread across his chiseled features, "I- I can't keep a straight face around you, can I?" His question seemed rhetorical, but I answered it anyway.

"It has come to my attention that you won't be able to do that for awhile now, baby." I kept my smirk at bay, knowing he'd ask me 'why' next.

"What makes you say that?" He raised a well-shaped, dark brow at me. My eyes looked downward to what was giving him away currently and I pointed with my index finger on my left hand.

"I've created a monster." I spoke plainly, quite in tone. And I tried my best, really I did, to keep a straight face as Michael looked down at his crotch where his halfway-there hard-on resided underneath his boxer shorts. He blushed as much as his already flushed cheeks would allow, covering himself up in the process.

"Sorry." He closed his eyes for a moment, "You just... You turn me on, what can I say?" He shrugged, opening his eyes again. I sat up and covered my face with my hands, suddenly shy.

"Uhhg, don't say that." I groaned, looking at him as my fingers spread so I could see him from between them. 

"Are- Heh, are you... embarrassed?" He sounded bewildered. My hands dropped, grabbing my white trousers from last night. Slipping them on, I opened my mouth to speak but he beat me to it while getting off the bed and sliding down to my level on the carpeted floor. "I could say a lot worse after last night, you know?" My cheeks reddened as I slipped my pants over my legs, they were at my knees when Michael's hand on mine stopped mine. Looking up, my eyes found his that were glinting mischievously. Michael's tongue darted out.

"You've got time, right?" He asked me suggestively. I turned my head away from him, running a hand over the top of my hair. It took a moment to regain my composure as I turned back to him.

"You're being a horndog, you know that right?" He rolled his eyes as I playfully shoved him away from me, now I was finally able to pull up my pants and quickly button them.

"You're no fun, Ash." I scoffed at him, standing up and looking around for the remainder of my clothing. He knows I'm sore as hell, he's being a piece of jerky.  My glittery jacket hung from the back of the chair Jermaine had occupied earlier, still sparkling like the night sky with the bright silver, angled zippers catching my eye against the deep color. Michael noticed where my eyes went, "You know, we kinda matched last night."

"Yeah, we did. Did Jan help you with your outfit?" His answer will confirm my suspicions...

"She did. Why, did she help you?" I nodded, slipping the heavy jacket on. The weight made it more comforting to wear, I felt armored with it on - ready to take on a stadium or something, it was an interesting feeling. "You know..." He walked closer, touching the beadwork on my sleeve with delicate touches. "I really love this jacket of yours."

"Thank you." I flipped my hair to the side as he continued to examine the finer details of my $1,000 jacket, fixing my hair in the mirrors of his closet doors. My hair had grown significantly in a years time, flow past my breasts but not yet to my belly button. He kissed my cheek once I pulled my hair back in a ponytail, making me smile once again.

"So gorgeous." Michael whispered. Leaning his head on my shoulder he wrapped his arms around me, securing me to him for the umpteenth time in the last 24 hours. We swayed, content as more time passed us by. "Cancel your plans for today, please. I don't want you to leave yet." I didn't want to leave yet either, but I had to check the finalizations of my record company's release announcement and party that was in three days. Did I mention I've come up with a name for it? No? You'll have to wait, sorry. "Please?" He kissed down my neck causing me to softly gasp. 

The things this man does to me...

"I can't Michael... but I wish I could." His lips slowly came to a stop, lingering at the base of where my neck meets my shoulder. Sounding cocky he replied,

"What could be more important then a day spent with me cooped up in this room?" 

"I can think of a few things." I told him, boop-ing the tip of his nose with my index finger.

"Ouch, I'm wounded!" We laughed.

"But seriously, I can't cancel. It's for... Well, it's a secret. But I'll send you an invitation, ok? You'll be my plus-one. Again." I chuckled at my reference to Brian's failed fondue party that happened all those years ago. Michael smiled, glancing at my lips as we faced each other once more.

"Speaking of plus-ones... There's this concert that's coming up soon, and I was just thinking, perhaps you'd like to go with me?" He looked so cute while he picked at his finger nails, being all nervous as he asked me out.

"A concert?" I prompted.

"Mmm hmm, a James Brown concert." A lightbulb went off above my head just then, remembering my prior engagement.

"The James Brown concert in June?" Michael looked surprised that I knew about it.

"Yeah, how'd you-?" I looked away from him, wishing he hadn't brought it up.

"Um, I'd love to go with you - obviously - but someone already invited me." I paused, waiting for a reaction. Nothing came, so I continued. "He invited me a few months back and I didn't receive an invitation in the mail so..." My words trailed off.

"He? He who?"

There's no time like the present, Briggs.

"Prince invited me to go with him and few others, he's my friend." It's as simple as that, we're friends. After having Nikki & The Flies open for him we'd come to spend some time together, quickly becoming pals - and I seriously mean just pals. Nothing more.

"Prince. You're going with Mr. Dirty Minds himself?" I scoffed, wanting to cover my face with a hand.

"Michael, don't call him that." It's ironic how they both have 'Mr.' nicknames for each other; one's Mr. Glittery Socks and the other is Mr. Dirty Minds, jeez they need to come up with better names.

"Now you're defending him?" His voice rose, frustrating me further.

"He's my friend, so yeah I'm defending him from your lack-luster name calling. This was planned WAY out before last night happened, so get over yourself." He's being ridiculous right now.

"There's nothing to get over, Astoria! You've been fraternizing with my rival!" This was old before it even began, how dare he.

"You're rival? That's rich! My band has kicked your album's ass on the charts, and yet you're more concerned with a friend who's letting me come with him and a bunch of other friends to a James Brown concert? Take a step back and look at yourself, Michael Jackson." I huffed, "You're not the center of my world anymore." He scoffed, letting me go completely so he could stand intimidatingly in front of me. My arms crossed in front of chest carefully - I didn't want to ruin the beadwork of all the crystals.

"Your band?