Chica Mask was coming over to Y/N and Michael's house for dinner. Y/N decided to play it simple and make pasta for dinner. After a long day of work, rigatoni and garlic bread can soothe anyone's pain. Jokes aside, she knew how difficult Michael's job could be. However, Chica Mask never complained about his job. He never really spoke of what he did for work. Maybe that would be worth asking at dinner when he arrived.
Michael was sitting at the kitchen table slouched in his chair reading a newspaper as Y/N was at the stove watching the pasta noodles boil in the steel pot. A silence had fallen between them, not an uncomfortable one though. They were more just enjoying each other's company. At that moment they looked like a married couple, it was nice. It made Y/N smile a bit at the thought of them being married.
The sound of the doorbell chimed through the home making Michael sit up in his chair more. "I'll get it," he stands up and stretches, setting the newspaper on the table in front of him. The doorbell rang again, and again, and again. Michael groans and flung the door open.
There stood Chica Mask, a shit-eating grin on his face as he kept ringing the doorbell even if Michael had already opened the door.
"Do you mind?" Michael holds back a smile, pretending to be annoyed at his antics.
"Not at all! Thanks for asking." Chica Mask steps into the house. Michael shuts the door behind him.
"Mrs. Afton! Lovely to see you, it's been forever." Chica Mask beams over at Y/N.
Y/N cracks a smile, "Chica Mask, me and Michael aren't married yet."
"Yet, yet, that is the word of the day friends." Chica Mask points his finger up in a matter-of-fact.
"Word of the day? What is this Sesame Street?" Michael raised an eyebrow.
Chica Mask shrugged, "Who knows? Maybe we're in a kids' show or something. Or a book, wouldn't that be weird? Like our entire lives could be a work of fiction that some sorry author made."
"Uh. Save the philosophical fourth wall breaks for after we get some garlic bread in our systems. Dinner's ready." Y/N shuts off the oven and grabs plates from the cupboard.
"Sweet! I love rigatoni." Chica Mask fist pumps the air.
"Was that your yearbook quote or something?" Michael rolls his eyes, "Or are you just that enthusiastic about Italian cuisine?"
"Well first of all the origin of rigatoni is believed to be Rome, so your sardonic comments don't mean shit." Chica Mask grabs a plate and puts a helping of pasta alongside a piece of garlic bread on it. "And secondly, you both should remember my yearbook quote. It was 'Why can nobody pronounce gnocchi correctly?'."
Y/N starts cracking up, "Oh yeah, I forgot about that," She too gets a serving of pasta on her plate.
"And for your information," Chica Mask sits down and points his fork at Michael accusingly, "gnocchi is Italian cuisine, unlike rigatoni. So take that a shove it down your ass."
Michael rolls his eyes and sits down across from his friend once he gets his plate ready. "Chica Mask eat your garlic bread before I smack the fuck out of you."
"Michael you should be a poet, you have such a way with words." Chica Mask wipes an invisible tear from his eye playfully.
"You know, speaking of jobs," Y/N pipes in, taking a bite of her pasta. "Chica Mask, what do you do for work? You've never told me. I was thinking about it while I was making dinner."
"I'm a product tester. Brands mail me shit to try out and I try it. I tell them if it sucks or not. I get money." Chica Mask shrugs, "I think they put my gender down wrong on my application because they send me a lot of makeup and skincare. Don't get me wrong, I rock a bold eyeshadow look, and the rose water toner was pretty nice for my complexion." Chica mask pats his own face lovingly to show off his glowing skin.
Y/N had to admit, his skin looked great.
"What the fuck," Michael starts laughing, "why don't you correct them? All you need to do is call them."
"Why would I? This girlie shit is pretty rad, maybe you should try it, Michael." Chica Mask examines Michael's face from across the table. "You know, your dark circles could use some work. Maybe one day you'll look as youthful as me."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Work has been a bitch lately, maybe I'll need your stupid skincare before long." Michael lets out a breathy laugh. He was serious about work being rough, and Y/N knew it. Chica Mask knew it too, whenever he called Michael or visited him at work he seemed constantly stressed.
"Hey man, it won't be shit for long. You just need to power through. Once you start working there longer and don't commit any murders it has to shut the press up. They're just scared because they think you're like him." Chica Mask was being semi-serious for once to show Michael he really cared.
"Chica Mask is right, hun. Give it a year or two and this whole thing will blow over." Y/N looks over at her boyfriend lovingly. Michael smiles, "Yeah whatever, you guys are right."
"You mean about how I look more youthful and handsome than you?" Chica Mask asked playfully, making Michael snicker.
"Yes, of course, that's obviously what I meant."
YOU ARE READING
Dead Man Walking... Michael Afton x Reader
FanfictionA sequel to "You Jerk..." Years have passed since Y/N moved into Michael's neighborhood, the couple were now in their adulthood and living with each other. Michael now took it upon himself to continue the Afton Robotics legacy alongside his mother...
