"Don't even dare! If you ever even think about doing that crap again Michael I swear to God." You hissed at Michael who was currently stood with his light skin shining in the dim lamp (as it was dark outside) and curls tucked into a messy ponytail with strands framing his face. His usually immaculate skin was creased with frowns as his brown eyes narrowed. He parted his rosebud lips and shifted against the lounge door as he began to defend himself, hands thrown in the air.
"Y/N, I swear to you that I didn't do anything, it wasn't me!" He cried out desperately yet angrily.
Swallowing words that were coming to bay, you managed to choke out a couple more feelings to prove your point. "Don't lie, Michael! I know that I stocked that cupboard the other day, and now all of my fajitas have disappeared. I know that you like Mexican food!" You finished pouting smugly as Michael began to stutter.
"ITS. NOT. ME! Yes I like Mexican but I think that you forget how many people are in this house everyday! I know Bill likes fajitas too! I'm getting sick of your nagging, you are starting to sound like an annoying mother. Actually no..." Michael paused, his eyes widening dramatically. "You are starting to sound like Jermaine." He licked his lips, gulping slightly and wincing as he saw you take a sharp intake of breath. Calmly, you began to storm out of the room although Michael tried to block your exit. "Y/N... I didn't mean it, I'm sor-" he began apologetically but you cut him off.
"Let me go." You lowly replied and he knew that you weren't joking. So he moved and you flounced upstairs, slamming the door to the bedroom and dropping onto the bed, staring at the ceiling and breathing heavily. Since when did married life become so ridiculous? Did every married couple get to this stage? Or was it just us?
Suddenly you heard soft taps on the other side of the wooden door. "Y/N? Baby, I'm sorry. I promise you I didn't eat your fajitas but I promise to get some more tomorrow." Michael's soft voice whispered weakly. Slowly the door creaked open to reveal Michael wearing an apologetic look upon his face and a downcast expression. You huffed and turned your back to his beautiful body.
"I made nachos."
Your head turned to see Michael's large hands holding a bowl of nachos and grated cheese. His curls were illuminated in the bedroom lamp as he licked his lips and blinked his saddened eyes at you.
"Fine." You replied sulkily but inside Michael was forgiven. He climbed into bed with you, shifting so that your head was on his chest and one arm was wrapped around your waist as he sat up holding the nachos for you both to eat. He gently pulled the covers over your legs to keep you warm.
"Look at us." He softly chuckled and you joined in, wanting to stay this way forever.
