Caught Up In The Cute - Michael

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VOTE AND COMMENT PLEASE ?

You and Michael were a, for lack of a better word, secluded couple. That doesn't mean you both locked yourselves away when you were together; you loved hanging with your boyfriend's mates, especially his band, whenever you visited. It was rather that neither of you preferred to go out to parties and show your relationship to the public. You both would rather snuggle in the hotel with some Chinese takeout, or go on a walk late at night when nobody was around. You both felt you could be yourselves then and not be pressured by anyone, including the boys, to act a certain way.

Tonight Ash, Luke, and Cal were all out on the town one night after a gig, while you and Mikey were up in his hotel room, a box of half-finished pizza in between you and Playstation controllers in your hand. You were laying under the covers, your heads poking out of the foot of the bed, your eyes focused on the tv.

You and Michael are both very, very competitive. So, to your utter frustration and his utter delight, you're a shit fifa player. No matter how hard you concentrate ("It's so cute how your nose scrunches up" Michael always says), you can never make the players perform how you wanted. This was even more frustrating because you were better than Michael at real soccer, so it irritated you to no end how he usually won by six goals or something ridiculous. And that was just another reason he loved playing it with you.

Tonight was no different.

"Ha! Too easy!" Michael exults as he dribbles effortlessly past your defense and slots the ball in the corner, way out of your badly-positioned goalie's reach. His virtual team celebrates, while your players shake their head in defeat. And you don't blame them. They're losing 7-3.

"This is a shit game anyways," you grumble as you put the ball in play again, only to lose it a moment later.

You can feel Michael grinning from ear to ear next to you.

"Wipe that smile off your face before I remove it for you," you warn, jerking your controller as you will your player to move up the field.

"Oh, no need to be nasty," he teases.

He's just about to score again when you decide to just slide tackle his player. You take Michael's player's feet out from under him and the ball rolls out of bound, and the ref whistles for a foul and gives your player a yellow card.

"They should've been a red for you, you dirty player," Mikey asserts, knocking you with his shoulder as he sets up for a pk.

"Just focus on not missing," you croon, trying to distract him.

"Oh don't worry, I won't."

But just as he's about to shoot, you poke him in the side, where you know he's ticklish.

"y/n!" he yelps, his hand jerking the controller. The ball shanks way over the goal. He glares at you.

"What is it Mikey?" you ask innocently, "it's not my fault you suck."

"You, my dear," he growls playfully, "have just started a war."

"Bring it on, fluffly." You retort, your team finally in posession. You're making your way up the field when you feel something mushy in your ear. You squeal and accidentally kick the ball out of bounds. You look over at Michael, who's smiling smugly at you, holding a piece of pizza in his hand.

"Michael Clifford, did you really just put that in my ear?" you ask.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mimicks your innocent voice, batting his eyes.

The next time Michael has the ball, you throw the comforter over him and take his moment of confusion to steal the ball back and score. 7-4.

"I hate you!" he shouts, still drowning in comforter as you do a victory dance.

For the duration of the game, both of your methods go from bad to worse. What started out as pokes and shoves turn into tackles, death threats, and pillow fights.It turns out you may not be good at fifa, but you're really good at cheating. Soon the score is 9-10 in your favor with two minutes left, and both of you are on your feet, scampering around the hotel room as you try to dodge each other and play at the same time. Mikey had just dumped water on you and taken the ball from you.

"I don't think so!" you yell as you charge over to your boyfriend, who's hiding on the opposite side of the bed, and jump on his back. You almost topple him over but he keeps his balance, leaving you hanging on him like a monkey.

"There's no way I'm letting a dirty cheater beat me!" he declares, keeping his controller out of your reach. You start peppering messy kisses all over his face, neck, shoulders... wherever you could find bare skin.

"This is foul play! Unfair distraction!" he laughs as he turns to you and your lips meet, both of you giggling as you momentarily forget about your game. In his moment of weakness, you snatch his controller from him and hold it out of his reach behind him.

"That was cruel!" Michael shouts, spinning you in circles. You hold on tight as the world blurs around you, "Seducing and stealing is a new low for you!"

"I swear to god you guys!"

You both freeze and look over toward the door, where Ash, Cal, and Luke are all standing in the hall, their phones out and evil grins on their faces.

"How long have you been standing there?" Michael asks, not letting go of you.

Cal looks at the other boys, "oh I dunno... since 'I don't think so!' Followed by y/n charging at you."

Ash shrugs, "all I know is that it's all going on keek."

"And instagram!" Luke chimes in, typing on his phone, "this is what happens when we leave these two alone.."

"They get the whole hotel room to themselves all night, and they just murder eachother over a video game when they could be doing something much more fun," Cal recites the tweet he just composed.

You slide off Michael's back and give Calum a look.

"Oh, you mean something like this?" You bring Michael's lips to yours. He smiles into the kiss and pulls you close, his hands sliding very low down your back...

The boys groan. "Don't!" Luke screeches, shielding his eyes, "you guys were being so cute! Let's not completely ruin the moment."

You pull away (a little reluctantly) and Michael winks at you.

"You know, he's right," you agree with Luke. You point to the tv, where your team, for the first time ever, is celebrating a victorious match. "Tonight's pretty great. I won."

Michael's face drops and the boys erupt in laughter, teasing Michael to no end about how he lost to the worst ever fifa player. You smile to yourself; looks like you've found yourself a new gaming strategy.

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