My Babysitter's A B!tch (Michael Afton x Reader)

Music To My Ears

You made up some big elaborate lie about how you stopped at a store on your way to the Afton's house and this was the first thing you saw. Thankfully she believed you, and you were able to go up to your room. Pulling the sweatshirt off, you stared at it for what seemed like forever.

Of course, you had to give it back. It would be rude to keep it, and unprofessional as a babysitter. Looking it over, you were thankful that you didn't spill anything on it. Though, maybe you should still wash it just in case...

You gathered up some of your dirty clothes and marched back downstairs.

"You're doing your own laundry for once?" You heard your mother's voice coming from somewhere behind you. "My little Y/N is all grown up!"

Ignoring her comment, you brought the basket of clothes up to the washer and threw them in. You threw some soap in and started the machine. You sat around and waited until it was finished before dumping them in the dryer. You went back upstairs, making a mental note to grab the sweatshirt before you left in the morning.

Despite the nap you took at the Afton's, you still fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

A groan escaped you as your alarm went off. You went through your routine: shower, brush your hair, get dressed. You went downstairs once you finished, and grabbed the bag you left by the door last night.

"Y/N!" Your mom wrapped you up in a hug. "I love you dear, have a good day! I'll see you when you get home."

She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and left. You made your way to the dryer and pulled out Michael's sweatshirt. Running your hand across it, you admired how soft it was before you neatly folded it and set it inside your bag.

With that, you drove off to the Afton's house. As usual, William greeted you at the door. "Ah, Y/N. I hear the kids had a lovely time yesterday. I'm glad they're enjoying your company."

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck as you stepped inside. "I appreciate it, William. They're really great kids."

He smiled at you, though there was a hint of sadness behind his eyes. He didn't give you much time to think about it, though, as he trudged out the door.

You looked around the living room. It was the start of your third full day babysitting, and you were already starting to feel as though this was a second home. You glanced down the hallway of the kids' rooms. All the doors were closed, meaning they were all probably still asleep.

You stuck your hand in your bag, fingers brushing against Michael's sweatshirt. You took a deep breath and walked to his door. You gently knocked a few times, hoping the noise wouldn't wake Evan or Elizabeth.

A few seconds later, the door opened. You were greeted with the sight of a very tired Michael. He wore pajama pants and an old band t-shirt and his hair was all over the place. When he saw you, he ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to subtly style it.

"Ah... Good morning, Y/N." He offered you a tired smile. "You don't usually wake me up."

"Sorry," You pulled the sweatshirt out of the bag as you spoke. "I just didn't want to forget to give this back."

He stared at it for a moment. "You didn't have to, you know."

"Huh?" You furrowed your eyebrows. "Michael. This is your sweatshirt."

He hummed. "Well, yeah, it is, but I distinctly remember telling you not to give it back."

You blinked. Was he being serious? "Mike, I'm not playing games with you this early in the morning."

"Fine, fine." He took the sweatshirt from you, and the two of you stood there awkwardly for a moment. "Do you, er, want to come in for a bit?"

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you nodded anyway. "Sure, I'd love to."

He let you in, and you sat down in front of his bed, leaning your back against it. He seemed to be looking for something as you glanced around. The papers that you saw from last time still littered the floor. Gently, you grabbed one and started to unfold it.

Words were scattered over it, and near the bottom was a staff and music notes. You made out a little note that stated the music was in the key of B flat minor. You didn't know a lot about music, but each note had a corresponding letter written above it (Two eighth notes labeled AB, Four sixteenth notes labeled CCDB, Then another two eighth notes tied to a dotted half note in the order of AGG, you noted).

Micheal seemed to find what he was looking for when you heard a soft, "Aha!" He turned to you with a big grin on his face, holding up a brown acoustic guitar. As he watched you for your reaction, he noticed the paper in your hand. His face turned a light shade of pink. "Don't mind all the papers on the floor... it's just dumb stuff."

"Dumb stuff?" You waved the page in the air. "Liking music isn't dumb, it's cool. I think it's really neat that you're trying to write your own stuff."

He sat down next to you, pulling the guitar into his lap. "You really think so?"

"Would I lie to you?" You raised an eyebrow. "I just hope you remember me when you're some bigshot musician."

"Like I could ever forget you," He muttered, looking away.

"So, Jimmy Page, are you gonna play me something?" You gestured to the guitar that sat in his lap.

He picked it up. "Sure, but don't expect me to be as good as Jimmy Page."

You leaned back against his bed as he began to strum. You couldn't tell if he was just playing random notes or not, but either way it was peaceful. You gently closed your eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the music fully.

After a few more notes, you realized Michael had begun to repeat himself. You hummed along, now knowing the notes. You couldn't see, since your eyes were closed, but Michael was smiling.