The staff at The Beef are used to the teasing jabs thrown around the kitchen, the snide comments and snarky remarks that get passed from person to person until the whole restaurant is involved, Richie almost always coming bumbling in from front of house to give his own unwanted opinion, which riles Michael up even more than he was to begin with.

And sure, there are days when the fights don’t seem so playful, when Michael’s voice is the one to start them off with a remark that comes in a tone which sounds a little too much like he really means it.

He can be in awful moods, it happens more often than he’d like to admit, but he can’t help it. He’s sick. He’s trying to get better.

But some people are stuck in their ways and only seem to realise the need to change their behaviour when something drastic happens. That’s what that new therapist that you’d forced him to talk to said, anyway.

He’s only made you cry at work once. And when it happened, he’d vowed to never let it happen again. He wasn’t a nasty man. He was just a little too passionate sometimes, too fiery, too volatile, and things tend to spiral quickly when Michael is involved.

There had been nasty comments, something that pushed you a little too far, and you’d bit back. It resulted in Michael in the ER having his hand stitched up, and you at home, untouched and unscathed, trying to sleep in a big lonely bed.

There hasn’t been a fight as bad as that since.

Now, feelings are removed from the situation before anyone can get hurt, and what used to be scathing remarks turn back into those teasing jabs, those playful comments, those little smirks that come with a hip bump or a slap to the ass.

It’s sweet again. Loving. Funny.

Michael is slowly finding himself again.

It’s a busy shift, and you’ve been at the restaurant since seven in the morning, because someone wanted a fresh, early start. Michael.

But he’s managed to get you to stop being grouchy by lunch service, and the kitchen has currently lost two of its best workers as Michael chases you through the restaurant, a tea towel in his grasp as he attempts to swat your behind, laughing at the way you shriek as you push into front of house and dodge through customers in line, squealing apologies as you go.

“C’mon, babylove…, just one kiss and I’ll stop it.., that’s a nice deal!..”