Angel in Rhinestones

Michael had been the first one to hear her soft cries through the baby monitor. Before you could even sit up, he was already moving. "I got her, mama. Stay in bed." You tried to argue "Michael, you have work tomorrow, I can—"

"No." His voice was gentle, but firm. "You’ve been with her all day. Let me take care of my girls tonight." My girls. those two words always made your heart ache a little. because he still said them like nothing had changed. Like you were still his, like he still belonged to you.

You watched him walk into the kitchen, his hair messy from sleep, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and somehow he still looked like the man you fell in love with. He made Michaella’s bottle perfectly, checking the temperature on his wrist like he’d done a hundred times before.

because he had.. and never complained, not once.

Now, he sat in the rocking chair with your daughter curled against his chest, feeding her slowly while humming some random little tune he made up.

and that’s when he saw you, still awake and watching him. His eyes lifted from the baby and immediately softened. "Baby?"

"Hm..?"

"Why aren’t you asleep?" You shrugged. "Couldn’t." He gave you that look.The one that said he knew you were lying. "Baby." Your breath caught.

He still called you that sometimes... usually late at night when he was too tired to remember he wasn’t supposed to. "What’s on your mind?"

"Nothing." You Sighed. "That’s a lie." You looked away and he sighed, setting the bottle down for a second after making sure Michaella was comfortable. "C’mere."

"Michael—"

"Come here."

There was no pressure in his voice, just love. the same love that had been there the first day he held your hand, the same love that was there when you told him you were pregnant, the same love that was there now. So you moved closer.

And without even thinking about it, he pulled you into his side while still holding your daughter. "You know i don't like when you do that hm?" he whispered.

"What?" You knew exactly what he meant. "You try to do everything alone." You didn’t say anything, because he was right. You always felt bad asking for help. You always thought you were being too much, but michael? he never saw you as too much. neverrrrr.

"You carried my baby for nine months," he said quietly. "You brought my little girl into this world. You stayed up through the sickness, the pain, the crying, the fear. And now you think I’m gonna let you sit there exhausted and do everything by yourself?"

Your eyes started burning. "Michael, we’re not even together anymore." The words hurt both of you. You could see it in his expression. But he shook his head. "Doesn’t change anything for me." Your heart stopped. "What?"

"You heard me." His eyes never left yours. "You are the mother of my child. You are the woman I loved. The woman I still care about more than anyone." He looked down at your sleeping daughter. "I’d do anything for both of you." Then he pressed a small kiss against your forehead. The same way he always used to. "Now go back to sleep, my lady"

"What.. about you?" a little smile appeared on his face. "I’m gonna sit here and finish feeding my princess."

"You need sleep too." He laughed softly. "I can survive being tired." you actually hate that when he says that. "Michael—"

"No, listen to me." He looked at you with so much love it made your chest hurt. "For once, let me love you the way you deserve to be loved. Let me take care of you." and that was the dangerous thing about Michael.

even when he wasn’t yours anymore… he still loved you like he was.

❤︎ 🧸 © 𝙢𝙞𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙚𝙡𝙨𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚

It starts the way it always does with him on his knees.

He's already hard before he even touches you, his cock straining against his jeans as he presses his face into the inside of your thigh. He breathes you in, deep and slow, like a man taking his first lungful of air. His doe eyes are half lidded, dark and glassy, his lips parted. He's not begging yet. Not out loud. But the way his fingers tremble against your skin says everything.

"Please," he finally breathes, voice hoarse. "Please, baby. Let me taste you. Just a little. Just—" He kisses the crease where your thigh meets your hip, tongue darting out to taste salt and warmth. "I need it. I need it."

You barely nod before he's burying his face between your legs.

Michael doesn't start slow. There's no teasing, no gentle buildup. He goes straight for your clit with the flat of his tongue, laving it in long, broad strokes that make your hips jerk. His hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider, holding you open for him like you're a meal he's been starved for. And he has been. Every hour away from you is an hour of withdrawal, of craving, of counting down until he can have this again.

He moans against you, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your core. His tongue flicks faster, circles, presses flat, then flicks again. He's sloppy. Desperate. There's no technique to it just pure, unadulterated hunger. Saliva and your wetness mix together, dripping down his chin, and he doesn't wipe it away. He wears it like a badge of honor.

"Fuck," he mutters against your cunt, the word muffled by your flesh. "Fuck, you taste so fucking good. Sweet. So sweet. I could—" He stops talking because his mouth is too busy, too full of you.

He loses track of time down there. Minutes blur into hours. His jaw aches, his tongue cramps, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop. Every time you try to shift away, oversensitive and trembling, he tightens his grip on your hips and pulls you back. His nose presses into your pubic bone, his lips sealed around your clit, sucking gently at first, then harder, then letting go only to dive back in.

When you're in bed, he crawls under the covers without a word. You feel his hot breath against your inner thigh before his mouth finds you, half-asleep and warm. He nuzzles into your cunt like a man seeking comfort, lapping lazily at your folds until you're wet and sighing in your sleep. He falls asleep that way sometimes his cheek pressed against your thigh, lips brushing your clit, breathing you in. He wakes up hard, aching, and immediately starts all over again, licking you awake.

During the day, it's worse.

He'll pull you into the studio under the pretense of needing your opinion on a new track. The door clicks shut, the blinds close, and suddenly he's on his knees again. He shoves a pillow under him not for his comfort, but to get the angle right. His chin tilts up, his tongue out, waiting. Begging with his eyes.

"Just a taste," he whispers. "I'm stuck. I can't write. I can't think. I need—" He presses his forehead to your thigh, breathing hard. "I need your pussy, baby. She's my muse. She's the only thing that makes the words come."

And you let him. Because it's true. The moment his mouth finds you, the tension in his shoulders melts. His hands roam your ass, squeeze, spread, pull you closer. His tongue works you until you're gasping, your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips grinding against his face. He moans with every flick, every suck, every time your cunt clenches around nothing because his tongue is right there, pressing into your entrance, tasting your cream.

He comes in his pants without realizing it.

The first time it happens, he's so focused on your pleasure that he doesn't notice his own cock throbbing, pulsing, spilling into his jeans. The wet patch spreads warm against his thigh, and he only becomes aware of it when you're done, panting and limp, and he pulls back with a glistening chin. He looks down at himself, blinks, and then grins, sheepish, embarrassed, but also proud.

"Sorry," he mutters, but he's not sorry at all.

It becomes a pattern. Two pairs of jeans a week. Sometimes three. He starts buying cheap brands because he knows they'll be ruined. The laundry basket fills with stiff, stained denim, and he never complains. He just shuffles to the drawer, pulls out another pair, and gets back on his knees.

You have to push him away.

It's the only way it stops. When your clit is raw and swollen and every flick of his tongue makes you flinch, you press your palm against his forehead and shove. He resists at first, whining against your skin, trying to chase your taste as you pull back. "No," you say, breathless. "Michael. Stop."

And he does. But only because you said so. Only because your voice has that edge of finality that he can't ignore.

He sits back on his heels, chin wet, lips red and puffy, eyes glazed. His breathing is ragged, and there's a smear of your arousal across his cheek. He licks his lips slowly, savoring the last traces.

"Sorry," he says again, but his voice is thick. He's not sorry. He's already thinking about the next time, counting the hours until he can taste you again.

He crawls up the bed and curls against you, pressing his face into your neck. His hand is still wet, still slick with your juices, and he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean one by one. His eyes close. He's content. Sated. But only for now.

Because tomorrow morning, before the sun rises, he'll be between your thighs again. His tongue will find your clit before you're fully awake. His mouth will seal over you, and he'll hum in satisfaction, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst.

And he'll whisper, half to himself, half to you: "Not my fault you taste so sweet."

He says it like a prayer. Like a confession. Like the truest thing he's ever known.

1978

hayvenhurst

You woke up the next morning surrounded by warmth.

Soft sunlight streamed through the windows in pale golden streaks, casting a quiet glow across the room, but it wasn't the sunlight that held you there in that sleepy haze between dreaming and waking. It was Michael.

His body was still wrapped around you completely, his arms secure around your waist, like even in sleep, he couldn't let you drift too far from him. His head was buried in the nape of your neck, soft curls brushing your skin every time he breathed, his chest pressed firmly against your back, warm and steady and comforting in a way that immediately makes you melt further into him.

You snuggle more into him instinctively, even as you feel yourself beginning to wake up more fully. Michael, though, is still fast asleep, and you can feel the difference in him immediately.

He's resting, really resting. It's the most rested he's felt in months.

There's no tension in his body, none of that tightness he carries in his shoulders even when he's trying to relax. No faint crease between his brows from overthinking, no restlessness beneath the surface. He's completely still against you in the best possible way, like for once, his mind finally let him stop running.

Carefully, you turn in his arms until you're facing him, his hold loosening just enough to let you move before tightening around you again automatically, even in sleep. Your eyes slowly flutter open fully as you look at him, and the sight of him like this makes something warm spread through your chest so quickly it almost aches.

Your husband.

The thought hits you all over again.

You still couldn't believe it was real. You couldn't believe you and Michael really got married last night. Even now, lying here in his bed at Hayvenhurst with the morning light spilling over him, it still feels surreal in the softest way.

You love how peaceful he looks when he's sleeping.

Without the pressure of cameras or rehearsals or expectations pulling at him from every direction, he looks younger somehow, softer. His lashes rest against his cheeks, his lips slightly parted in sleep, his breathing deep and even as he stays curled around you.

And he does look like he's getting real rest.

You know how hard it is for Michael at times to sleep. You've heard the exhaustion in his voice on late-night calls, felt the way his body crashes the second he finally lets himself stop moving, and watched him struggle to quiet his mind enough to actually rest. But now he looks still... in a good way.

Like for one night, everything else stayed outside the room.

As you lie here and look at him, you still can't believe he's your husband. He's fully yours in the way that matters most, and the thought settles deep into your chest with a warmth that feels overwhelming and grounding all at once.

You know the two of you can't stay in this bubble forever; reality is going to come back in eventually. His family, yours, the questions and reactions.

But for right now, this moment still belongs to the two of you, and you want to hold onto it for as long as you can.

You gently run your thumb across his jaw, your touch light and slow as you memorize the way he looks when he's completely at peace. His long lashes flutter slightly against his cheeks at the feeling of your touch, his body instinctively responding to you even before he fully wakes, but he keeps his eyes closed.

You lean forward and gently press your lips to his, and it doesn't take Michael too long.

The second he feels your lips against his, you feel his body begin waking up beneath your hands, slowly registering what's happening before he kisses you back almost immediately, soft, warm, and still heavy with sleep. His arms tighten around you as he pulls you even closer to him, even though there's no more space between you two, like somehow he still wants you closer than this.

Michael is the first one to pull back, and when he does, his eyes slowly flutter open, remnants of sleep still clinging to him. His curls are messy from sleep, his voice still rough around the edges when he speaks, but he looks content. And for the first time in months, he looks rested.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jackson," he whispers to you.

The words hit you instantly, Mrs. Jackson.

Your cheeks flush so fast it almost embarrasses you, warmth spreading across your face as you bury your head into his shoulder with a soft laugh, suddenly overwhelmed all over again by the reality of it.

"Good morning, husband," you say as you gently kiss the soft skin of his neck. A quiet sound leaves him at that, somewhere between a hum and a sigh.

"Hmm, say that again," he says softly.

You lift your head to look at him, smiling as your thumb traces slowly along his jaw, your touch lingering there. "Husband," you say with a smile.

Michael smiles widely immediately, the expression bright and completely unguarded as he grabs your hand in his. His gaze drops to the ring he had gotten for you, the one he presented at the ceremony in Vegas, and his thumb brushes over it gently before he lifts your hand and presses a soft kiss against it.

The gesture makes you blush all over again.

"I love the sound of that," he says.

You nod because you love the sound of it too. More than you thought you would. There's something about hearing him call you his wife that makes everything feel more real every single time.

"Me too," you say softly.

Michael leans in and kisses you again, slow and affectionate, and you smile against his lips as you kiss him back. You know you'll have to leave the bubble and face his family eventually. You know this quiet little world the two of you created can't stay untouched forever.

But right now, none of that feels close enough to matter. Right now, you're content, and you want to stay in this moment with him forever.

"The first day of waking up like this for the rest of our lives," Michael says as he tucks your hair behind your ear. Your smile widens immediately. He's so corny at times, hopelessly so, but that's one of the things you love most about him. The sincerity in everything he says, the way he means even the cheesy things with his entire heart.

"And as my first day as Mrs. Jackson... I would love to make my husband breakfast," you say.

The words make Michael's entire expression soften. Husband. Every time you say it, it affects him all over again, like he still can't fully believe this is real either. His eyes stay on you for a second longer, warm and soft.

He leans in to kiss you again, slow and lingering, like he can't stop touching you now that you're his wife. The kiss makes warmth spread through your chest all over again, your stomach twisting pleasantly as his hand slides against your cheek with familiar tenderness.

Every kiss with Michael feels like kissing him for the first time.

Not because they're unfamiliar, but because he kisses you like he still can't believe he gets to.

When you pull back, the two of you get out of bed and get dressed, the softness of the morning still lingering between you both like something fragile you don't want to disturb too quickly. You slip on a pair of shorts and one of Michael's t-shirts, the fabric still carrying his scent, warm and comforting against your skin, and he pulls on a t-shirt along with sweatpants, his curls still slightly messy from sleep.

The two of you walk downstairs together, your fingers brushing against each other every few seconds without either of you realizing it, and when you step into the kitchen, you find it surprisingly empty.

You and Michael exchange a look immediately because Hayvenhurst is rarely this quiet in the morning, but after a second, you just shrug lightly and move toward the fridge. You've practically lived at Hayvenhurst anyway, so you know where everything is without thinking about it, and soon you're moving around the kitchen with an easy familiarity, pulling ingredients out while the stove heats.

Michael watches you the entire time.

He props himself up on the counter beside you, one foot hooked against the cabinet beneath him, his expression soft and openly affectionate in a way that still makes warmth spread through your chest every time you catch him looking at you like that.

"Look at that, we might actually be able to have our first breakfast as husband and wife alone," Michael says with a soft smile. A laugh immediately slips out of you at the way he says it so casually, so happily, like he's still trying the words out every chance he gets simply because he loves the sound of them.

"Your first breakfast as what!?" The voice cuts sharply through the kitchen before either of you can react, and the warmth of the moment disappears so quickly it almost feels physical.

You and Michael both freeze at the same time.

When you turn around, LaToya and Janet are standing just inside the kitchen doorway, staring at the two of you with identical wide-eyed expressions, shock written all over their faces after clearly catching what Michael said.

For a second, nobody moves.

Then LaToya suddenly rushes toward you, immediately grabbing your wrist and pulling you gently away from the stove where you were scrambling eggs. Your heart starts pounding as she takes your left hand into hers, and the second her eyes land on the wedding ring sitting on your finger, her entire expression changes.

"Oh my God," she breathes.

The disbelief on her face only deepens as she immediately turns toward Michael, grabs his hand next, and stares at the gold wedding band on his finger, too, before looking rapidly between the two of you.

"You two got married!?" LaToya asks in complete disbelief.

"Who did what!?" The sound of Joseph's voice snapped through the kitchen like a crack of thunder.

You feel Michael tense beside you before you even fully turn around, the reaction immediate and instinctive, and when you look at him, all the color has drained from his face so quickly it makes your chest tighten painfully. The softness from moments ago is completely gone now, replaced by something tight and guarded as Janet instinctively moves closer toward Michael near the counter.

You and LaToya slowly turn around, and the second you see Joseph standing in the doorway, the atmosphere in the room shifts so heavily it feels suffocating.

"LaToya, Janet, get out of here," Joseph says. His voice isn't loud, but somehow that makes it worse. There's a sharpness underneath it that immediately puts everyone on edge.

LaToya looks at you sympathetically right away, concern flashing across her face as she gently squeezes your hand before wrapping an arm around Janet and quickly leading her out of the kitchen. Janet keeps glancing back nervously the entire way out before the two of them disappear completely, leaving the room painfully quiet.

You turn the stove off because you already know breakfast is over now, the smell of eggs and butter suddenly feeling strangely out of place against the tension filling the room, and you move immediately to stand beside Michael. The second you do, he pulls you closer until you're standing between his legs, where he's still perched against the counter, your back pressed firmly against his chest.

The gesture is protective and grounding all at once.

Even terrified, Michael's first instinct is still to pull you closer to him instead of away. You can feel the tension radiating through his body, the way every muscle is tight beneath your hands, but he still keeps you tucked securely against him like he's silently making it clear that no matter how uncomfortable this gets, he isn't letting you stand alone in it.

He's never let Joseph disrespect you, and he wasn't going to start now.

"What was that LaToya said?" Joseph asks as he looks between the two of you.

"We got married last night," Michael says immediately.

There's no hesitation in the words, and although his voice is firm, you still hear the slight tremor underneath it because you know him too well not to. You can feel how hard his heart is beating against your back, even while he forces himself to stay steady under Joseph's stare.

"And what in your right mind made you do that?" Joseph asks.

"Why do people get married, Joseph?" you say before you can stop yourself. The words come out sharper than you intended, but once they're out, you don't regret them.

Joseph's eyes immediately snap toward you, his stare hard enough that most people in this house would've folded underneath it, but you don't look away. Your pulse jumps, but you hold his gaze anyway because you refuse to let him make this feel shameful.

"Oh, so you're pregnant? He don't got time to be a father right now," Joseph says. You scoff instantly, the accusation irritating enough to briefly overpower your nerves.

"She's not pregnant, Joseph. Rebbie, Tito, Jermaine, Jackie, and Marlon are all married. Rebbie, Jermaine, and Marlon were younger than we are when they got married," Michael says.

"And they were fools for that, too," Joseph snaps back. You roll your eyes immediately, frustration flashing hot through you as Michael's grip around you tightens slightly.

"And even if she were pregnant, I would make time to be a father and be there to care for my wife and our child," Michael says pointedly.

The words land heavily in the room, deliberate and unwavering, and despite the fear you can still feel running through him, there's something steadier underneath it now, too. Every time Joseph pushes, Michael seems to hold onto you harder, like defending this marriage is strengthening his resolve instead of weakening it.

Joseph takes another step further into the kitchen, and you feel Michael's body tense sharply against yours again. "You got something you want to say, boy?" Joseph asks.

The threat underneath the question is unmistakable, and you feel Michael instinctively straighten slightly behind you even while his body remains tense. Years of fear are still there; you can feel them, but so is something else now.

Defiance.

"This is a distraction, one you don't need. You need to be focused on this album," Joseph says. You shake your head immediately before Michael can even respond.

"Did you have this same conversation with Tito, Jackie, and Marlon, who are all also married and have children? Do you question their dedication to the album? Or is that only reserved for Michael?" you challenge.

Joseph looks directly at you, but this time he doesn't answer right away, because all three of you already know the truth. This was never really about marriage being a distraction.

It's about Michael: the money maker, the center of the Jackson family machine.

Softer footsteps sound in the hallway, a completely different rhythm from Joseph's heavy presence, and a second later, Katherine Jackson walks into the kitchen. The second she steps inside, she immediately feels the tension hanging in the room.

Her eyes move across all three of you quickly, taking everything in at once: Joseph standing rigid near the doorway, you pressed protectively against Michael, and the way Michael is trying so hard to look steady despite the fear still lingering tightly underneath his composure.

"Well, good morning, is everything alright?" Katherine asks.

Her voice is gentle, but there's caution beneath it now as she studies the room more carefully. She sees how intense Joseph looks, sees the way you and Michael are standing your ground while still visibly on edge beneath the pressure of the confrontation.

Joseph turns toward his wife sharply. "Your son ran off and got married over the weekend," Joseph snaps.

Katherine's eyes widen slightly at the words, genuine surprise flickering across her face before she settles herself almost immediately. Unlike Joseph, she doesn't react with anger first. Instead, her attention shifts directly to you and Michael, and when she starts walking toward you both slowly, your stomach tightens all over again.

Because her opinion matters more.

Joseph's anger is intimidating, but Katherine's disappointment would hurt.

You've always had a good relationship with Katherine. She's always treated you warmly, lovingly, like you already belonged here long before this. But you also know that being LaToya's best friend and Michael's girlfriend is very different from secretly eloping with her son without telling her.

Katherine reaches you both and gently takes your hand first before taking Michael's too, her touch calm and grounding as she examines the rings resting on both of your fingers. The kitchen stays painfully quiet while she looks at them, and you can feel your heartbeat pounding harder the longer she says nothing.

Then Katherine lets out a slow breath before lifting her eyes back to both of you.

"Are you two happy?" Katherine asks as she squeezes your hands.

The question catches you slightly off guard because it's so simple, not accusatory or angry, just honest. You nod immediately, and beside you, Michael nods too.

"We are. I'm sorry we didn't tell you so you could've come with us, Mother," Michael says.

There's guilt in his voice now, softer than before, because unlike with Joseph, this is someone whose feelings genuinely matter to him in a completely different way. Katherine nods slowly as she squeezes your hands again, and the tension in your chest tightens while you wait for her response.

"Thank you, baby... If you both are happy, then I am too," Katherine says.

The relief that rushes through you is so immediate it almost makes you dizzy, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you'd been holding this entire time. Beside you, you feel Michael's body loosen slightly too, some of the tension finally easing from him for the first time since Joseph walked into the kitchen.

Katherine gently pulls you into a hug, then, sensing your nerves immediately and wanting to calm you down, the kindness of it almost overwhelms you after how tense the room has been.

"You've always been family sweetheart, from the first day LaToya introduced you to us... now it's just legally official," she says. Your eyes sting slightly at the softness in her voice, and you smile as you hug her back.

"Thank you, Momma Katie," you whisper to her.

"Katie, are you serious!?" Joseph snaps.

The sharpness of his voice cuts through the warmth of the moment immediately, but Katherine doesn't flinch. She slowly pulls away from the hug before turning to face her husband, and there's a calm steadiness in her expression that makes the contrast between them even more obvious.

"Five of our other children are married, Joseph... I don't see the issue," Katherine says.

The same point you made earlier. Why is Michael the one being singled out? But everyone in the room already knows the answer to that question, even if nobody says it out loud.

"So you're telling me you're okay with this?" Joseph asks.

"We'd be hypocrites not to be," Katherine says simply before she leaves the room.

The kitchen falls quiet again after she's gone, but the energy has shifted now. Joseph no longer has Katherine backing his anger, and all three of you know it.

Joseph looks directly at the two of you, his jaw tight with frustration, before he points a finger at Michael.

"You'd better stay sharp, boy," Joseph says before he storms out of the kitchen.

The second he's gone, you feel Michael loosen behind you almost immediately, like his body had been braced for impact the entire conversation and is only now allowing itself to breathe again.

You turn around right away and wrap your arms around his torso, laying your head against his chest as he hugs you close without hesitation, his arms tightening around you like he needs the comfort just as much as you do.

"Are you okay?" he asks. Your eyes soften. Even after all of that, he asks about you first.

You nod against him before lifting your head slightly. "Are you?" you ask.

Michael sighs softly before kissing the top of your head, lingering there for a second. "Always... I have you," he says. The words make your chest ache warmly because you know he means them completely. For all the fear Joseph still puts in him, Michael still chose this. He chose you.

But then his expression shifts slightly, some of the softness dimming as reality creeps back in again.

"But we all know why he wouldn't say why it's such a big deal for me to be married compared to everyone else... the money maker can't be distracted," Michael says.

You frown immediately at the bitterness underneath the words. "Stop that, Michael... you're more than that," you remind him.

He shrugs, but the movement feels heavier than casual indifference. "Not to him," he says.

Your heart twists painfully at how easily the words leave his mouth, like this belief has been carved so deeply into him that he doesn't even question it anymore. You shake your head immediately before lifting your head fully from his chest, so he has no choice but to look at you.

"But to me and everyone else, you're more... and you need to be more to yourself, too. What Joseph says isn't who you are. You determine who you are," you say.

Michael's eyes stay on yours the entire time, softer now, quieter, and after a second, he cups your cheeks gently in both hands before leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss is slow and grounding, nothing desperate about it, just warm and full of feeling as your hands settle against his torso while you kiss him back. When Michael finally pulls away, his thumb lightly trails across your jaw as he looks at you with that same softness that somehow never disappears, no matter how hard the world is on him.

"Right now, I'm more than happy being your husband," Michael says.

A smile immediately pulls across your face, and you lean in to give him another quick peck. "Goof," you say. Michael smiles.

You go back to cooking like you had been before you were interrupted, although the atmosphere in the kitchen feels different now. Softer again. Not completely untouched by what just happened, because you can still feel remnants of the tension lingering beneath the surface, especially in Michael, but lighter than before.

The normalcy of cooking helps. The sound of the pan, the smell of breakfast filling the kitchen again, the quiet domestic rhythm returning little by little, it settles both of you more than either of you says out loud.

Michael stays close the entire time.

Sometimes leaning against the counter beside you, sometimes brushing against your shoulder when he reaches for something, like after everything with Joseph, he doesn't quite want space between you right now. And honestly, neither do you.

Once everything is made and the two of you are finally settled at the table together, plates full in front of you, softer footsteps sound in the hallway again before LaToya and Janet come back into the kitchen.

"Are you guys okay? We heard Joseph yelling," LaToya says. There's genuine concern in her voice immediately, her eyes flicking between you and Michael as if checking for damage after the confrontation.

Michael nods. "Yeah, we're okay. Get some breakfast and join us," Michael says.

You smile and nod in agreement immediately, and the tension in the girls' shoulders visibly eases at the invitation. The normalness of it helps all of you, pretending for a little while that this is just another morning at Hayvenhurst instead of the morning after you secretly married Michael Jackson in Vegas.

LaToya and Janet move around the kitchen making their own plates from the breakfast you made: pancakes, bacon, eggs, toast, and of course, orange juice from the fridge because Michael loves orange juice and there is somehow always enough stocked in this house specifically for him.

The familiarity of all of it settles warmly around you. When the girls finally sit down, Janet looks at you and smiles, still clearly trying to process everything.

"So you two are really married?" she asks.

You nod immediately, unable to stop your own smile from spreading again at hearing someone say it out loud. "Yeah, is that okay with you?" you ask in a teasing tone.

Janet rolls her eyes slightly in that younger sibling way that immediately makes Michael laugh under his breath beside you. Janet is the baby of the family, adored by everyone in this house, but you know she's especially attached to Michael, LaToya, and Randy.

"Yeah, there are a lot of boys in this family, it's nice to have another girl," Janet says as she shrugs before starting to eat her food.

The answer makes you laugh immediately, and beside you, Michael laughs too, the sound softer and freer than it had been all morning. Even LaToya laughs, shaking her head affectionately at Janet while the heaviness from earlier continues easing little by little.

Then your attention shifts toward LaToya.

Your chest warms slightly just looking at her because you know none of this would exist without her. Without the sleepovers after school. Without years of friendship. Without her pulling you into this family long before you ever became Michael's wife.

Her opinion matters to you, too. "What about you, Toya?" you ask.

LaToya looks at you for exactly one second before laughing. "You've been my sister for over 10 years... I was just waiting on the two of you to catch up and make it official," LaToya says.

The words immediately make you and Michael look at each other at the same time before both of you quickly look away again, and the reaction only makes everyone laugh harder because it's obvious both of you are blushing now.

You can physically feel the heat in your cheeks, and beside you, Michael bites down on his lip shyly while reaching for his orange juice, clearly trying and failing to hide how flustered he is.

The four of you slowly settle into breakfast after that, eating and talking and laughing together while the girls tease both of you endlessly about secretly getting married without telling anyone. Every few minutes, Janet gasps dramatically about how offended she is that she didn't get to come to Vegas, while LaToya keeps pointing out how obvious it's been for years that the two of you were going to end up married anyway.

And little by little, the earlier tension with Joseph fades further into the background as you and Michael focus on the people at the table who are happy for you instead.

You did not doubt that the second LaToya and Janet went upstairs earlier, LaToya probably called every single one of their siblings and told them the news already, so you fully expected you'd be hearing from the rest of the Jackson family later.

But for now, sitting beside your husband while laughter fills the kitchen again, that future feels far enough away that you can let yourself enjoy this moment first.

────୨ৎ────

The moment comes sooner than expected.

One minute, you and Michael were upstairs in his room after cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast and getting ready for the day, enjoying the quiet little bubble you kept managing to find your way back into whenever you were alone together. The next minute, you're both seated in the living room with all of his siblings standing in front of the two of you, staring at your ringed fingers in varying levels of shock, disbelief, amusement, and excitement.

Apparently, LaToya's phone calls had worked fast.

The room is loud in that distinctly Jackson-family way, everyone talking over each other while simultaneously trying to process the fact that Michael, the shy, soft-spoken youngest brother they all still instinctively baby despite his fame, had secretly gone to Vegas and gotten married.

"Wait, so you're really married?" Marlon asks as his eyes bounce between your ring and Michael's again, like he's still trying to make it make sense.

"Yes," you say.

"Marriage license and everything?" Rebbie asks, and Michael laughs immediately beside you.

"Yes!" Michael says, smiling as he shakes his head, the disbelief in everyone else's reactions clearly entertaining him now that the initial stress of Joseph finding out has passed.

There's something lighter about him again, sitting here with his siblings. The tension that had wrapped itself tightly around him earlier is gone now, replaced by excitement and nervous happiness that keeps slipping out every time somebody calls you his wife.

"My god... who would've thought little Michael would sneak off to Vegas and elope," Jackie says.

The comment immediately makes everyone laugh because it's true. Out of all the Jackson siblings, Michael honestly might've been the last person anybody expected to secretly run away and get married. And of course, once all the siblings gathered downstairs, they made you and Michael tell the full story of how the marriage happened in the first place.

"Did Joseph have a heart attack?" Tito asks.

"Unfortunately not," you say.

That gets another round of laughter out of everyone, even Michael, who drops his head slightly as he laughs beside you while absently rubbing circles against the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Ya'll should've seen the way she stumped Joseph, too. She challenged him about why he was being so hard on me for getting married and not getting distracted from the group, but not the rest of you," Michael says as he gestures toward his brothers.

The second the words leave his mouth, all of their expressions shift slightly.

Their eyes widen as they look toward you because they all understand exactly what Joseph hadn't said out loud. None of them is confused about why Michael marrying young suddenly became such a catastrophe when several of them had done the exact same thing.

Because Michael isn't treated like the others.

"No way," Tito says.

Michael nods immediately, and there's something almost proud in the smile on his face as he looks over at you, like seeing you stand up for him against Joseph affected him more deeply than he's fully saying out loud.

"What did he say?" Marlon asks.

You laugh softly. "Nothing... granted, that was also when your mother walked into the room, but I don't think Joseph would've had a response either way," you say.

That gets another round of laughter from the siblings, though there's understanding underneath it too. They all know Joseph well enough to know you backed him into a corner with that question.

"Oh, god... Mother! How did she take it?" Rebbie asks. Michael's expression softens immediately at the mention of Katherine, and you feel his fingers tighten gently around yours before he answers.

"I think what upset her the most about it is that she wasn't there... and I did feel guilty about that, because it would've been wonderful to have Mother there... to have all of you there, really... but I also wanted this to be just us," Michael says as he squeezes your hand.

You look over at him immediately when he says it, warmth spreading through your chest all over again because you know exactly what he means. Vegas had been intimate and perfect and entirely yours in a way neither of you regretted, but that didn't mean you didn't love these people too.

"Michael, we understand, and we're happy for you... really. We all knew this was coming anyway," Jackie says with a smile. The sincerity in his voice visibly eases something in Michael again, and you can see it in the way his shoulders loosen slightly beside you.

"I was thinking about maybe doing another ceremony here... so all of you can attend," Michael says.

Immediately, his siblings' faces light up. The energy in the room shifts all over again, excitement replacing shock now as everyone starts reacting at once, already talking over each other about the idea before Michael turns toward you.

"And so your family can come too," he continues.

Your expression softens instantly at the thoughtfulness behind it. He already gave the two of you the intimate ceremony that belonged only to you both, but now he's thinking about everyone else too, about your mother getting to see you walk down an aisle, about Katherine getting to witness her son marry you properly, about your families getting to share in this happiness instead of only hearing about it afterward.

And honestly, the idea sounds perfect.

You smile while nodding your head. "That's a really good idea, Michael," you say with a smile.

Michael smiles too immediately, looking relieved and happy that you love the idea as much as he does, and he leans over to give you a quick kiss before standing up from the couch.

Almost instantly, his brothers surround him.

The room fills with teasing and congratulations as they start talking all over him, Tito clapping him on the shoulder while Marlon dramatically complains about not getting invited to Vegas. Michael laughs through all of it, smiling shyly but brighter than he has in days, and watching him like this: happy, relaxed, surrounded by people who genuinely love him, makes something warm settle deeply in your chest.

Meanwhile, the girls move over to join you on the couch.

Janet immediately curls up beside you and looks up at you expectantly. "Can I be a flower girl?" Janet asks. You laugh immediately, the request so earnest and hopeful that it's impossible not to smile wider.

"Janet, you're almost a teenager, wouldn't you rather be a bridesmaid instead?" you ask.

Janet's eyes widen instantly before a huge smile spreads across her face. "Really?" she asks.

You laugh again while nodding.

"Of course," you say before turning toward Rebbie. "I was wondering if maybe Stacee would be the flower girl, and you would be another bridesmaid?" you ask.

Rebbie's expression softens immediately at the suggestion. Rebbie has two daughters, and Marlon has one too, but Rebbie's younger daughter and Marlon's daughter are still toddlers, whereas Stacee is seven now, old enough to actually understand what being the flower girl means.

And judging by the emotional look on Rebbie's face, she already knows Stacee is going to lose her mind with excitement. Rebbie smiles immediately, warmth spreading across her face in a way that softens the last of the lingering tension from the morning.

"Of course, we'd both be honored," she says.

The sincerity in her voice makes your chest warm because there isn't even a second of hesitation in her response. Just love.

Then LaToya clears her throat dramatically from beside you, and when you turn toward her, she's already giving you a teasing look that immediately makes you laugh because you know exactly what she's about to say.

"You forget about me?" LaToya asks.

You laugh immediately, reaching for her hand. "How could I forget about the person who brought me into this family? I need you as my Maid of Honor," you say.

The reaction is immediate.

LaToya's eyes instantly water before she throws her arms around you, hugging you tightly enough that you laugh softly against her shoulder. The emotion catches up to her quickly, and honestly, it catches up to you, too. Because she really did bring you here. None of this would exist without her inviting you over all those years ago, without childhood sleepovers turning into family dinners and movie nights, and eventually falling in love with her little brother without even realizing when it happened.

Then suddenly, all the girls are hugging you.

Janet practically launches herself into the embrace while Rebbie wraps her arms around both of you, too, and for a moment, you're surrounded by warmth and perfume and overlapping laughter as they hold onto you tightly as if you've officially become something that, truthfully, you've already been to them for years.

"I know we have four other sisters-in-law... but you're our favorite," Janet says.

The comment immediately makes all four of you burst into laughter, loud enough that it echoes through the living room, and you barely even notice Michael turning around. The second he sees the three of his sisters wrapped around you while you hold onto them just as tightly, his entire expression softens.

Something emotional flashes across his face so quickly and openly, because to him, this means everything.

It makes his heart clench with love and adoration watching all of you together like this, watching the people he loves most seamlessly wrapping themselves around each other, and in that moment, he feels overwhelmingly grateful that you and LaToya became friends all those years ago and that she brought you home for a sleepover.

His life wouldn't have been the same without that moment. Without you.

For a second, he just stands there watching you quietly while his brothers continue talking around him, his gaze fixed entirely on you with that same softness that always appears whenever he looks at you for too long. Then Tito nudges him hard enough to pull him back into the conversation, making Michael laugh under his breath before his brothers immediately drag him back into whatever teasing they'd been doing before.

Meanwhile, the girls slowly pull away from the hug, though everyone still stays crowded close together on the couch.

"We've also never seen Michael this happy since before all the fame," LaToya says.

The words hit you quietly but deeply.

Your eyes soften immediately because you remember that conversation with Michael perfectly. The night he admitted how lonely he felt, how isolating all of this had become despite constantly being surrounded by people. You remember the exhaustion in his voice when he told you how fame made him feel loved by everyone and truly known by almost nobody.

And you remember the way he looked at you after telling you that, like you were the first place he'd felt understood in a very long time. You had made that loneliness better for him.

Not the fame, not the success, and not music. You.

The realization settles heavily and warmly inside your chest as you sit there surrounded by his family's love and acceptance, and for the first time since Joseph walked into that kitchen earlier, you let yourself fully settle into the fact that this is real.

You're his wife.

And despite the fear and tension and uncertainty, you were grateful to be here now, sitting in this living room surrounded by people who genuinely loved both of you.

You weren't going to let Joseph bring you down.

He didn't intimidate you before, and he wasn't going to start now, and more than that, you weren't going to sit back and let him continue controlling Michael through fear either.

Before, you had just been LaToya's best friend and Michael's girlfriend. Back then, there had always been a line you didn't feel entitled to cross, moments where you bit your tongue because this wasn't technically your family, and you didn't feel like you had the right to step fully into those confrontations.

But things were different now. Now you were Michael's wife, and you weren't going to tolerate Joseph's treatment of him anymore. Not quietly. Not while watching the man you love slowly convince himself he's only valuable when he's performing for somebody else.

Your thoughts break apart when you look up and catch Michael turning around across the room. The second your eyes meet, his expression softens all over again, and he lets out a slow, contented breath before smiling at you.

"I love you," he mouths silently. The words make warmth bloom through your chest instantly.

You smile back at him immediately. "I love you more," you mouth back.

Michael's smile widens in that shy, boyish way that still somehow makes your heart race after all these years, and he ducks his head slightly while his brothers immediately start teasing him for smiling at you like that.

The rest of the afternoon passes wrapped in warmth and noise and laughter.

You spend hours with Michael's siblings talking, playing games, and teasing each other while plans for the second ceremony slowly begin forming around all of you, naturally. Janet becomes deeply invested in bridesmaid dresses within ten minutes, LaToya immediately starts talking about decorations, and Rebbie starts mentally organizing family logistics before anyone even asks her to.

And sitting there beside your husband while the people you both love surround you, you realize the second ceremony will be different from Vegas. The first wedding had belonged only to the two of you, and this one would be filled with just as much love as the first.