Nights like this were truly one of the few things Michael looked forward to nowadays, especially since he spent them with you. His body was tangled with yours, neither of you knowing where one started and the other ended. His breath on the curve of your cupid’s bow, your fingers raking gently through his unkempt locks. Mike needed a haircut. He was waiting for you to do it for him; you always did after his incessant begging, him claiming that “no one did it like you did.”

It was stupid. Both of you knew it. But all he wanted was more time with you — he barely got any outside of The Beef, even with your frequent visits.

He was never one to take things for granted when it came to you. When you had gracefully waltzed into his life, spilling a piping hot coffee onto his signature white t-shirt, Michael couldn’t drag his mind away from you, from those eyes that were more gorgeous than anything else he had ever seen. He couldn’t just throw that away, could he? It was like seeing one of the seven wonders of the world; it was once-in-a-lifetime.

He stared so affectionately into your eyes, all of his love and fondness seeping out from his gaze alone. While the two of you laid there, the moonlight washing you both in a pale illumination, his thumbs rubbed against the soft contours of your collarbone.

“Did you have a good day today?” Mikey asked softly, his deep voice making an audible hum against his vocal cords. “Find something to busy yourself with? I know you’ve been restless ever since you’ve been on sick leave.”