laniwrites

Michael invited you to every photoshoot, introducing you to everyone “in case you needed something”. He made sure you were comfortable in a chair where you could see everything with your favorite snack and drink, before allowing himself to focus on the shoot. After nearly a million photos with outfit changes, background swaps, the team huddled up together narrowing down their options. Several minutes later, Michael rushed over to you, “What do you think?” He held up two photos, one of him sitting on the ground with a purple satin shirt and pink background, the other him in a suit in front of a brick wall. You hummed carefully considering both. “This one, you seem more confident,” you pointed to the suit photo, watching as a big grin spread across Michael's face. “I thought the same.

You went to his music video shoots as well as his TV performances, and whenever you couldn’t make it, you’d watch the performance from your couch at home allowing yourself to let out giggles and roll around, completely obsessed with how fine your man looked in his element.

Despite Michael and your best efforts though you rarely had any time to go out. Michael’s new wave of stardom and your schedule made it impossible to meet up outside of “work”. So when Michael invited you over to his house, you didn’t hesitate to drive over. “Not that I’m unhappy that we're staying in tonight…but why are we staying in tonight?”

“I just want to spend the night with you,” he replied, handing you a bowl of ice cream without meeting your eyes.

“Oh, really?” You asked, not hiding the doubt in your voice or your face. Michael blinked his doe eyes at you innocently as you stared at him suspiciously.

It didn’t take long for him to crack, “Well…”

You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of your ice cream.

“Q’s knows the people who run Studio 54 and they agreed to play the album a lot and let us take priority with drinks and booths.” Michael’s eyes drifted away from yours, the eye contact becoming too much as he asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

You fought to keep your smile from growing too wide. You shouldn’t be so enamored with how shy he was, how careful and considerate he remained. You leaned back on the couch's armrest, body fully turned towards him, “Of course, Mikey. Who’s gonna be there?"

Michael went still as a statue at the question and you nearly groaned. It had only been a few weeks that y’all had been together, but this was one of the first behaviors of Michael’s you noticed: the freezing. Like a kid caught being bad, Michael would just tense up at any mention of him doing something that might piss someone off. “Who’s going to be there, Mike?” you asked firmly, trying to rack your brain with who would make you angry.

“Well, there’s Q…and Rod…Toya will be there,” his eyes scanned your face as if the mention of your best friend would distract you, seeing no change he continued, “Janet, Randy, Marlon, Carol, and a few celebrities. And, you know, just the regular people who go. It’s not like we're going to shut the place down just for us…”

You weren’t going for it, “Michael.”

At this point he had fully walked away, now on the other side of the room looking through his movie cassettes. “You know…Diana might be there,” he mumbled, not daring to look at you as he heard you bowl clink as you put it down. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You and Michael had several long talks these past few weeks, ranging from gossip to childhood memories, wishes, dreams, and life in general. Frequently you two would end up discussing the harsher personal aspects of your lives, comforting each other and providing words of advice when the time was right. Diana had been brought up during those conversations numerous times and each time it solidified your burning hatred for her more and more. The first time he mentioned her you were asking him about the Wiz, you wanted to know how he met Quincy and how he ended up in the project. Michael told you all about Diana putting in a good word for him and the producers reaching out, swooping him up the moment he said yes. He told you how Diana had known him practically his entire life and how he even used to stay over at her house. You remembered your throat burning and your stomach growing nauseous when you thought back to interviews you had seen of the two of them, way before you had properly met upon his and La Toya’s return to Encino. Her rubbing up on his arms, blatantly flirting with him without a single care for the camera capturing every word she said. 

At the time you tried to gently explain how you felt without explicitly telling that you thought Diana was an old bitch who shouldn’t flirt with eighteen year olds. However you were too gentle the first time, Michael brushing you off saying that sure he had a childhood crush but “it wasn’t like that.” Every time since you tried to get him to see how strange she was but, Michael wasn’t hearing any of it. It was the only real "argument" you two had, if you could even call it that. Michael realized immediately that any mention of Diana would frustrate you. While he thought you were adorable huffing and puffing at him, he wasn’t exactly interested in seeing you come face to face with the women you clearly despised.  

“I didn’t invite her,” was all Michael could think to say. “Just the other night she called me, saying she heard that we’d all be at the club and was tired of waiting for her invitation. I didn’t know what to say, doll.”

“Say-” you cut yourself off, “nevermind.” You hated this tightrope act you had to walk when it came to her, any push too hard against their “relationship” Michael would pout, eyes sad. He was so close to seeing the issue and yet so far. 

You didn’t look at Michael as he padded his way over to you, “It doesn’t matter.” He ignored the way you took a deep breath, ready to argue that it does in fact matter. “It doesn’t matter because I’m not worried about her, baby. I’m worried about you and us. I want to have a good night out with my girl, whoever happens to be there isn’t going to change that.”

The urge to rip out your hair was so incredibly strong, you clenched your fists nails digging into your palms. You wanted to explain that she’s not going to “happen” to be there. She’s going on purpose for the sole intention of seeing Michael. You wanted to tell him that you just might kill her if you see her. But as you looked up at him, his face was so earnest, so cautious, clearly not wanting to upset you, all you could say was, “Ok, Mike.”

----

You had arrived at Hayvenhurst an hour or so before you were supposed to be at the club. Michael’s eyes widened when he saw you slip through the door from where he was planted on the couch, “Hey, doll.”

You walked over giving him a kiss on the cheek, “Hi, Mikey,” but didn’t linger, rushing back over to the stairs ignoring Michael’s calls for you to come back as you walked straight to La Toya’s room.

“Look at you. Coming in and out of my house as if you live here.” Joseph continued on his walk past you, he never liked giving you too much of his time.

You didn’t like giving him your time either, “Look at you walking around the house as if your son’s work didn’t pay for it,” you rushed inside La Toya’s room not wanting to hear his response. 

La Toya turned from her vanity to look at you, “Joseph?”

“Yeah,” you placed your bag on her bed and started digging around for your hair supplies.

She turned back around and continued applying her foundation, not bothering to ask about her father she completely moved on, “I would’ve tried hard to get Michael to leave you alone if I knew every time you’d come over he’d try to steal you away.”

Taking her lead in the conversation, you teased her back, “Don’t worry, you're still my favorite Jackson.”

The two of you got ready together, singing to Donna Summer and laughing your asses off when the boys tried to convince you to unlock the door so they could annoy you. Stumbling out of the room half high on La Toya’s hair spray, you held each other as you made your way down the staircase while also trying to stop laughing at Toya’s story. 

“Ain’t nothing La Toya says is funny enough for y’all to be laughing like this,” Marlon said, completely unamused with how long they had been waiting for you.

Shoving Marlon out of his way, Michael went to you,“You look good mama,” he complimented you shyly, taking your hand into his, as he tried to keep his gaze from wandering. 

The drive to the studio felt short with the boys playfully shoving each other in the limousine and teasing Michael’s grip he had on your hand. You laughed along with them, while subtly side-eyeing your boyfriend, usually he was too shy to hold hands in public, opting instead to hover in your general vicinity. “Are you okay?” you whispered.

Michael nodded silently, looking out at the crowd of paparazzi waiting outside the door as y’all finally arrived. “Let’s go. Don’t stop no matter what they say or do, okay?”

“Okay.” With your confirmation, the Jackson’s filed out of the car, Bill taking up the rear.

Michael wasted no time dragging you around the club, introducing you to any artists he knew you liked before forcing you on to the dancefloor with him. Hours passed in blurs of the most popular songs pumping so loud you felt the bass in your chest. You tried your very best to keep up with Michael but it was fucking impossible with the boots you had worn. “Okay, enough! I need to sit before I pass out!”, you yelled into Michael’s ear. 

He led you over to one of the bars, waving down one of the bartenders. 

“Water for me, please,” you huffed, hand against your chest as your adrenaline wore off and the pain in your feet took its place.

 Looking around you saw people dancing with each other, doing lines and drinking themselves silly. You gulped down your water, taking a moment to admire the most interesting part of your environment, your boyfriend. Michael leaned up against the bar beside you, staring out to the dance floor with pure amusement in his eyes. You took in the way his curls were styled perfectly, and his clothes fit him just right.

He broke your concentration as he turned his head to you with a soft look, “I haven’t been out dancing in a long while, doll.” 

Your heart stopped for a millisecond, “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak before his eyes focused on something behind you, his peaceful smile replaced with a look of terror, “Not now, gosh.”

“What?” you whipped your head around to see a small group coming towards the two of you. “Who-”

“Michael!” 

“Oh hell nah.” You felt Michael’s hands wrap around your wrists as you tried to get out of your seat. 

Diana Ross was strutted out from the center of the group, wrapping her long arms around Michael before either of you had the chance to think. “It’s been too long, Mikey.”

You wanted to throw up.

“Who’s this?” she asked as if she had just noticed you. You didn’t fail to notice the arm she kept around Michael’s shoulders as she sized you up.

Michael introduced you, “We’ve been dating for a bit now, Di.”

Di???

“Really?” Diana asked condescendingly, as if she could never imagine.

Michael gave you a pleading look, you bit your tongue so hard it bled.

“Well, it's nice to meet you.” Her voice was actively chipping away at the last of your patience, “Let me buy you a drink, on me. Any friend of Michael’s is a friend of mine.”

“Oh, no. I’m good, I don’t drink,” you excused through gritted teeth.

Diana looked you up and down, “How old are you?”

“Twenty,” your voice was flat.

One of Diana’s crew laughed in your face, “Girl nobody cares, have a drink.”

“No, I don’t drink, period,” you start to turn away from the rando, “the fuck…?” 

Seeing the look on your face Michael stepped out of Diana’s reach, “You know, I think it’s about time we found the family.”

 He began to pull you away from the bar when Diana stepped right into your faces, “What’s the rush, we haven’t even talked.”

You put a hand up in the small space between y’all, “You can back up.”

Diana grabbed Michael’s arm, not sparing you a glance, “I haven’t even been able to properly congratulate you on the album, Mike.”

You pushed her arm off of Michael, “No, because why are you grabbing him up on him like that? Like you his girl or something, back up.” 

“Let’s just go, doll,” Michael started to walk away and at first you followed him, though your eyes never left Diana’s.

 You pushed past her, subconsciously mumbling to yourself, “Fucking, weird bitch.”

“Excuse me?” she asked, having the audacity to look at you as if you were in the wrong.

“Oh? Are you losing your hearing?” You turn around, clearing your throat aggressively, “You’re too fucking old to be acting like this towards him! You’re fucking weird!”

Diana turned up her nose at you, “You got some fucking nerve.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Feeling froggy, bitch?”

‘Do it, do it.’ you mentally begged as you watched her become completely outraged. You saw the hit coming a mile away and stood perfectly still as Diana’s hand came across your face hard. 

You launched yourself at her, knocking her ass to the ground. Wasting no time you started slamming your fists into her face and chest as you straddled her waist. You were so fucking angry. How much has she gotten away with over the years? You were focused. Hit after hit after hit, you didn’t even register sounds of shock and horror coming from the crowd surrounding you both. You didn’t care. You didn’t care about Diana’s desperate attempts at hitting you back or her bony ass hands pulling at your hair and pushing at your chest to get you off of her. You just kept punching, taking a sick satisfaction at the feeling of hands hitting her. You felt hands pulling at you from all over trying to stop you, you pressed your thighs and knees into her sides to get a good grip on her and kept going, grabbing her shoulders and slamming her on to the ground.

“That’s enough!” A pair of strong arms grabbed you around the waist and tried to drag you away. Only when some people grabbed Diana's shoulders were they able to finally separate you two. They weren’t moving nearly fast enough though, you took advantage of the fact that you were standing above her to kick at her side with your heavy boots. Realizing what you were doing, the person behind you picked up the pace. 

You kept trying to throw your body weight towards her, to break free from the grasp as you clawed at the person's arms and hands. “Nah, let me at her. Raggedy bitch, I’m sick of her ass. I’m tired of it.”

“It’s over, kid.” You knew that voice, you put your anger on pause to focus. You looked over your shoulder. Bill. Fucking Bill. 

“You better let me go or I’m gonna hit you too, Bill. Don’t make me.” You liked Bill. But as far as you were concerned he could get it too, because why the fuck was he stopping you right now?

Bill didn’t look concerned, he just kept carrying you through the crowd. He didn’t let you go until you were on the other side of the club. The moment you were back on your feet you started hustling back towards the crowd, more than ready for part two now that you knew how easy it was to overpower her.

A firm grip on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. “Let’s go home, doll.” Michael, precious Michael. He looked so sincere as he gently tugged at you. His eyes scanned over your face, “Did she hurt you?”

A harsh laugh escaped you, “What? You didn’t see what happened?” You know he did. And he knows you know. 

“Come on, girl.” You let him pull you out of the club and into the backseat of his car. The ride was silent as Bill drove you both back to Havenyhurst. Michael held your hand the entire time, gently running his thumb across your knuckles as he watched you take deep breathes, fighting to let go of the last of your anger. Thanking Bill for the ride, you and Michael made your way up to his room as Bill set out back to Studio 54 to wait for the other Jacksons. You laid down on the carpet not ready to head over to Toya’s to get ready for bed. 

Michael joined you on the floor, “I… I appreciate that you stood up to her,” a shy smile on his face before he got serious again, “But you really shouldn’t get into fights for me.”

“Calling it a fight is generous.” Michael gave you a look. “She started it,” you defended.

“You goaded her.”

“And?”

Michael sighed, wrapping you up in a hug, squeezing you tight. You breathed in his cologne, mumbling, “You're not mad at me, are you?” You knew you weren't wrong in anything you said or did, but Michael was so close with Diana you wouldn't have been surprised if he still just didn't get it.

Michael took his time finding his words, only making you more nervous. “I'm not mad. I know how protective you are of Toya, Janet …and now me. I saw it coming.” He pulled back to look at you, “I just don't want to see you get hurt, you're lucky her security wasn't there.”

You hummed into his neck before pulling back, taking his face into your hands. “I know you two have history, Michael, but look at me. She’s bad news, okay. I don’t trust her at all. I don’t like her at all. And I’m not comfortable with the way she acts towards you or the fact that you don’t know how to tell her no.”

Michael tilted his head as his eyes roamed your face looking for something. He must have found it because after a moment, he nodded, “I promise.” You sat like that for a while, your thumbs gently brushing against his cheeks, Michael long since closed his eyes basking in your presence as he tried to wrap his head around everything. “You know, Janet doesn’t like her either.”

“‘Cause she’s smart.”

Some more time passed, "You're crazy you know that?”

You squeezed his face gently, “Yeah, and don’t you forget it.”

Michael giggled, bringing you even closer, “It was kind of cool though.”

“You think so?” you asked, a bit surprised.

He shrugged, “You fight better than Jermaine, I’ll tell you that much.”

It didn’t take long for Michael to be curious about you, a girl his age, waltzing around the house and lounging by the pool with his sister. Never a curl out of place or bracelet missing. But more than your looks, it was your personality that intrigued him the most.

It was Sunday night, and in the Jackson household, that meant family dinner; unexcused absences were not permitted now that the show was done being filmed at night. Given that it would be the first time in a while that all the Jackson “children” would sit down together, you had politely told Katherine you’d be heading home, and yet, she insisted you attend. She should’ve known better. 

“Now, why would you say something like that to your daughter?” 

It had been less than twenty minutes into dinner and Joseph had already spat out four different insults about Janet’s dance sequences they had filmed that week. The table paused at your words, everyone sharing glances as they took in the glaring competition you and Joseph were locked into. You hated Joseph Jackson. You hated the way he bullied his children and wife, the way he was so incredibly ungrateful for all of his family's hard work, even the way he walked pissed you off. Why Katherine insisted you stay was beyond you, she knew good and well you weren’t going for it. Too many years had passed with you in the house. Joseph was beyond comfortable degrading his children in your presence, his “charming” persona he dawned for strangers long gone. 

Joseph raised his eyebrows, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” 

“Let me tell you something girl-”

“No let me tell you, she’s only fourteen-”

Katherine was quick to jump in, “Rebbie, how is Yashi it’s been a while since you brought her over?”

“She’s doing just fine mother, doctors say she’s in perfect health and…”

Despite the conversation shift and everyone clearly trying to ignore what had just happened, it took you and Joseph a long while to stop glaring at each other. Only when Janet gently kicked you under the table with a grateful look in her eyes did you pick up your fork again, putting on a smile for the girl. Michael loved that smile, so playful as if you hadn’t shaken up the entire family dynamic, even if just for a moment.

A whole new feeling of relaxation settled in now that Joseph and Katherine retired for the evening. The others broke out the ice cream from the freezer as you were collecting dishes for La Toya to wash. “Let me help you with that,” a soft voice came from your right, gently taking the stack of plates from you. 

Your eyes followed Michael into the kitchen, “Oh, thanks.”

From there, Michael just kept appearing. You'd be baking in the kitchen with Janet, and Michael would stumble in, claiming he could smell the cookies in the oven (y'all hadn’t even finished the dough). Showing up at the perfect time to walk you back to your side of the neighborhood after your sleepover with Toya. Suddenly needing a break from dance practice, he sees you slip through the front door.

He was obsessed, and who could blame him? La Toya, that’s who.

“You need to leave her alone.” Michael nearly had a heart attack opening his bedroom door to see his sister sitting on his carpet with a stern look on her face. “I’m not joking Mikey. She’s my friend.”

Michael looked around lost. He didn’t want to admit it but she had a point. How many friends did she lose over the years because they were secretly groupies? Finally, found one and here Mike had to go chasing you around the house.

“Come on, Toya,” he mumbled, unable to meet her suspicious face.

La Toya gave him a long look, “If you get with her and it ends up not working out, we’re kicking you out the family and keeping her.”

“Fair enough.”

---

It took him a few months to get the courage to confess to you. The entire process was torturous, every time he thought he’d caught you by yourself one of his siblings would interrupt or he’d choke on his words, having to think of a quick way out of the conversation to save what little pride he had left. 

Finally, he planned it out. He invited you over himself, something he had never done before. Without letting you step foot into the house he walked you straight over to his private recording studio. “You can just sit on the couch. I have something I want you to hear,” he dimmed the lights, so dark you could barely see at all. You heard the spinny chair move before a beautiful instrumental flooded the room. You both sat in silence letting the song speak for itself, you were glad that it was so dark you’d hate for Michael to see the way his beautiful vocals made you so flustered. As the minutes passed your heart beat viciously against your chest as your face got hot. You tried to will yourself to calm down, fiddling with the edge of your skirt, unwilling to get your hopes up until Michael confirmed them outright.  

The song began to fade out and now in the dark silence, Michael spoke, “I wrote it for you. I’ve had feelings for you for a while now. I can’t stand the idea of you not knowing any longer.”

You didn’t speak initially, completely giddy at what you were fearing and needing to compose yourself. “I like you too.”

“Really?” You could hear the smile in his voice as his hands enveloped yours in your lap.

You stood up pulling him into a hug, one hand cupping his cheek you placed a kiss on the other before you could hesitate. Immediately addicted to the feeling, you pressed another and another onto his face. Michael giggled halfheartedly trying to duck away from your affection. “You messed up now, I ain’t going nowhere.”

Michael laughed, “Like I’d let you.”