Just Good Friends (One-Shot)

Just Good Friends

Michael walks into his kitchen, extremely surprised by Gweniviere's presence.

"Wow, so you decided to visit me after, what?" Michael scoffs. "Did he not give it to you good enough this time?" Michael walks towards the refrigerator.

Gwen gazes after his tall, slender figure; a body she's loved endlessly ever sense she's met him.

"Wow, so you don't want to just talk? You think I just came here for sex?"

"Yeah, kinda. It's not like you haven't done it before." He speaks the truth. Last time Gwen spontaneously showed up on his doorstep, she was a hot mess. Her latest boyfriend left her, for some unknown reason. Michael said the same old 'Gwen you're so beautiful, you don't need someone who doesn't know your worth to let you think otherwise' and blah blah blip speech. Except for that time, it stuck with her somehow, and they did something that would change their relationship permanently.

"Michael, I can't believe you would think such a thing of me."

"Gwen, I can't believe you would think that I wouldn't think such a thing of you." He takes a bite of cold pizza.

"Look, if you don't want me to be here, then I'll just leave," she says getting up hastily and walking towards the door.

"Gwen!" Michael springs to action, not wanting her to leave. Despite his cruel accusations and spiteful banter, he actually missed her company. He just couldn't believe that she only wanted to talk. "Gwen, wait," Michael says reaching her, placing his hand on her soft cheek. He rubs his thumb across the slowly blushing surface. 

Gwen has missed this, but she knows in her heart that this is not what she came for. She accepts his kiss, regardless. She feels herself melt into his arms. They move their lips against each other's in no time, recognition taking over their consciences. 

She comes to her senses once he begins to stick his warm tongue into her mouth. "Michael," she says, pushing him away. "Whatever you think I came for, that's not it. I honestly just want to talk to you. I missed your company."

Funny, I was thinking the same thing, Michael says to himself. They walk into his foyer, sitting across from each other. They stare at each other for awhile, taking each other's appearances.

Both of their hair lengths have gotten significantly longer, their faces flushed with a brand new color. Neither one can tell what it is. 

"How have you been, Veery?" He calls her by a nickname he hasn't used in years.

Gweniviere pauses, not sure how to answer a question that doesn't mean really anything to Michael, but is very loaded for her. Should she start with her impending pregnancy, her upcoming wedding? Gwen settles on a simple, "Good, and you?"

"I'm doing fine..." Michael says, he wants to add on, I'd be better with you here, but he doesn't. 

Now it's awkward. They can feel it like a large alto stratus cloud. 

"Michael, I'm pregnant." Gwen says, all in seriousness.

Michael looks at her for a minute, at her facial expression, checking if there's any hint of humor in her features. Unable to hide his previously suppressed laughter any longer, Michael rocks back and forth on his couch, almost like a Weeble - he can't be knocked down.

"What's so funny?"

"No it's just that," he laughs some more. "It's just that... that can't be true, you said that you never wanted kids."

"Yes, I did say that, but do you remember what I said after that?"

Michael ponders on that question. They had first talked about this soon after they first met at the bar. She and him were laying down on her shag rug in her living room, staring up at her coffered ceilings, talking about their plans. They were twenty-three; her, fresh out of college. Him, wandering the streets disguised as an old man.