#jealous!michael

It was, however, delivered by his youngest brother, Finn, whom you were non-exclusively seeing. He had been the one who had bagged the job for you and pushed Tommy to take you on. Finn knew how much Tommy liked to ‘give back’ to his community, helping out those who needed it the most.

It was a windy day and so you had wrapped a wool coat around yourself and pulled on a matching hat to hold your hair in place whilst also managing to fight off the cold from biting away at the tips of your ears. When you had received the letter, you had gone out and bought some clothes that looked more professional and matched a bit better than some of the things you already owned — which was hard considering this was going to set you back a few more pounds that what you actually had yet, making you grateful for the opportunity to make the money back as soon as you would. Finn had paid for your clothes and you felt so guilty spending money that you didn’t actually have yet, but he had insisted that for your new job you got some new clothes since you had been moaning about how worn and old the ones you currently owned were.

Thinking through every possible scenario that could be a bad start for you, you walked in your low heels to the doors of the building, not having noticed that you’d made it there already. Finn had mentioned something about Tommy’s assistant being Lizzie, to which you were mildly shocked, after hearing all of the stories Finn had told you about his family beforehand. You push the door open to reveal a large room, sparsely decorated with minimal furniture, there was a tall woman who you assumed to be Thomas’ assistant from what he had described in his letter.

She looked up from her desk and smiled widely at you, “Oh, you must be Michael’s new assistant,” she looked up to the clock on the wall above the archway you were standing underneath, “and you’re early, we like that here.”

She gets up from her seat and walks over to you, offering you her hand, “Lizzie Stark, love.”

You sigh, thankful that you’ve managed to get some bonus points in already whilst also being pleased that you’d been greeted by Lizzie first since you had no idea who you would be an assistant to.

After shaking your hand, she pulls you closer to her by placing an arm on your back, guiding you towards where you needed to go, “Up those stairs, you’ll see a similar layout to the one down here, you make yourself at home at the desk, move things about however you need them and Michael will make himself known in a few; he’s due here any moment now.”

Hands folded in front of yourself, clutching tightly onto the purse that held a few of the things you thought you would use while here, or to decorate with a few things to remind you of home to help make you more comfortable, you nodded your head and thanked Lizzie and headed up the stairs.

Sure enough, it was exactly as she had described, the desk was pushed into the corner a bit more but you assumed this was so that it was out of the way whilst no one was using it and decided to move it once you’d hung up your hat and coat.

Taking in your surroundings, you slowly began to underestimate the reach of the Shelby Company — whilst the walls were barely decorated, there were a few certificates hanging on the walls, almost blending in with their surroundings, so much that you almost didn’t even notice them.

You placed your purse on the desk and slipped your coat off while you were viewing all of the certificates. You were trying to figure out what the company was whilst also mentally noting some of the things you might have to ask for to help with filing and keeping everything organised. You were determined to impress whomever you had to and to keep your job for as long as possible — not that you were planning on losing it any time soon either.

Pulling off your hat, you turn to see if there was a cloak hanger for you to put your coat and hat on, only to be met with the observant gaze of a young man dressed in a three-piece suit and a tan coat to keep him warm.

You gasped, quickly placing your  hand over your heart, “You must be Michael.”

He stood, seemingly waiting for something to happen before he could make any further movements.

Whilst he stayed observing you, you suddenly realised that you hadn’t introduced yourself, you internally cringe and offer your hand, “How rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself; I’m —”

“You needn’t bother; I already know who you are.”

“Oh,” you simply say, retracting your hand and clutching onto your coat. You look around the room, waiting for him to say something to you as he seemed to know what he wanted.

Deciding that he most likely was waiting for you to say something, you open your mouth but close it again, not knowing what to say to him and frown at the floor.

His piercing eyes follow your head, watching your every move. He knew that he couldn’t show too much emotion as that’s how they get attached, right?

Michael blinks and holds his arm out, “I’ll hang your coat and hat up in my office with mine… I’ll also get Lizzie to send one up for you for tomorrow.”

Offering a small smile and backing away slightly, you say, “You don’t have to, it’s not a problem.” 

“I insist,” he stares right into your eyes, to which point you give in and pass over your things to him.

“Thank you,” you say.

He walks off into his office and you decide to try and make yourself useful by going over to your desk and perching on the chair provided.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper, head in your hands, resting on the desk, “what am I going to do with him staring at me like that all the time?”

Michael steps out of his office and leans up against the door frame, now in his suit minus the coat. You hadn’t yet noticed him but he was watching you as you were freaking out and whispering to yourself, what an impression, eh?

He clears his throat, you instantly lift your head, your face hot, and he begins to talk, “There’s a few things I need to get sorted, I’ve been away for a little while now but until then, you can set up your desk however you want and organise whatever files I give to you later on.

“I’ll also have some office equipment ordered in so that we have enough storage space; for now the one over there,” he points at a file organiser, “is the one you’ll be using. It’ll probably fill up quickly considering that I’ve been away. Anything you can think of that would benefit your workspace, let me know and I’ll get Lizzie to order some until I can get you fully supplied with everything you’ll need to assist me properly.”

“Alright,” you breathe out, “uh, how long have you been away?”

“Does it make a difference?”

Your eyes go wide, “It might help me guess how much work I’ll be getting until it regulates out later on… assuming that there are things that need filing from that time period.”

Michael grits his jaw and sighs, knowing that he can’t argue with that logic before replying, “Two years, give or take.”

“Thank you,” you reply as he pushes himself off of the wall. As he does so, you notice a glint from his left hand; you spy a golden band on his wedding finger.

You smile to his back, knowing that he most likely missed it completely but continued anyway. You had to uphold a positive image of yourself, no matter whatever came at you.

Michael pushes his door up but doesn’t close it completely, you sigh, knowing that he’ll be able to hear everything that you do if he wants to and stand from your seat. You perch on the edge of the desk and grip the edge with your hands. Biting your lip and crossing your legs at the ankle you take in the empty room. It was cold when it was empty, the light sconces warmed the room up but not enough, you wrap your arms around yourself and walk over to the sconces to see if you could light some more or somehow turn on some heating.

You’d worn a long-sleeve dress as Finn had told you that floor hadn’t been heated since it hadn’t been used for a while.

As you were inspecting the sconces and trying to figure out the heating or if it even worked on this floor, Finn bounded up the stairs, greeting you with a grin, “How’s it going?”

You smile and watch as he pulls off his glinting peaked cap and ruffles his hair slightly, “It’s good. Cold a little, but I’m managing.”

Finn chuckles, “Michael or the heating system on this floor?”

You shake your head and say with a smile on your face, “Heating, Finn.”

He steps closer to you and wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head as you snuggled closer to his neck.

“Do you need anything bringing?” He whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of your face with the back of his finger.

“No, this is just fine,” and you hold him tighter.

The two of you stand for a moment, enjoying the other's presence until you look over Finn’s shoulder and notice Michael’s looming figure, watching from behind his frosted glass in his office. Startled, you cough and pull away from Finn, “Hey, do you think you could help me move this desk so it’s more centred? I think it’ll benefit in the future if I can reach everything within a few steps.”

“Sure,” Finn replies, “I’ll go get Isaiah so that we can move it for you,” he kisses your hair and says, “I’ll be back soon.”

After Finn’s footsteps reach the final step, Michael comes out of his office and you turn to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and his hands in his trouser pockets, waiting for you to say something to him.

Instead you stand, uncomfortable with the fact that Michael managed to see you with Finn and irk you the way he did, just watching.

“You and Finn, eh?”

“Yeah,” you say, brushing your arm up and down, feeling awkward like this in front of Michael and you let your hair fall in front of your face again, quickly thanking yourself for keeping it down this morning.

“That’s a shame.”

Eyes widening, you drop your arm to your side and whip your head to catch his eyes, “What do you mean?”

Michael takes a few steps forward, he brings his left hand out of his pocket and when he is inches away from you, “Because,” he says, breath fanning your face, “you deserve more,” he pushes your hair behind your ears, similar to how Finn had done moments ago, only Michael’s action sent thrilling chills down your spine when his hand brushed against your skin.

“But,” you whisper, unable to pull yourself from the spot you were frozen to, “you’re married.”

Without missing beat, Michael breathes out, “That’s a fixable mistake.”

You had to leave. Frantically, you dash back towards your desk, trying to grab your purse before realising that your hat and coat were hung up on the cloak hanger in Michael’s office — how convenient. You shake your head and decide to head towards the stairs without them. You’d bared the cold before and could do it again for one journey home.

You practically skip down the stairs, missing a few on your way down. You walk into the main office and Lizzie calls over to you, “You alright, need anything, love?”

Cursing under your breath, you spin on your heels and say the first thing that comes to mind, “Hey, have you seen Finn? He said he was going to help me move my desk about upstairs and he hasn’t come back.”

Lizzie frowns, “I’m sure he went out earlier, hasn’t he come back?” she sighs, walking over to her desk to check a few things once she realises you’re not leaving and mutters, “I swear I’ll give him an earful for leaving you like that.”

Your face heats up, “Oh no,” you say, worriedly, “you don’t need to do that. I was just hoping that he’d do it sooner rather than later. He did say he was going to get Isaiah…” Lizzie looks up from her pile of work, “I just forgot to ask how long he would be, that’s all.”

She smiles, “I see,” she says suggestively, “you’re waiting for him to come back so you two can, you know… do what two people do best.”

Paling at the suggestion (at work!) you sputter, “Oh I wouldn’t —”

“Don’t worry,” she’s got a cheeky smile on by this stage, “I know I would, given the chance,” she leans closer to you and holds up one hand before whispering, “you know, sometimes me and Tommy get caught up in the heat of the moment too.”

You laugh uncomfortably and tighten your grip on your purse until your knuckles go white from trying not to give off that you are incredibly distressed with the way the conversation was headed.

“When the moment strikes,” you awkwardly say, not sure what else to say.

“Correct,” Lizzie returns to her work, “anyway, I’m sure he’ll be here soon. We can go out for lunch, later, if you would like that? Girl power an’ all.”

Grateful for the change in subject you sigh, “That actually sounds amazing, maybe you could give me some tips for keeping everything organised?”

“Whatever you want to talk about, love,” she glances up at the clock, “come back down in an hour and we’ll go then. If Michael asks where you’re going just tell him that Tommy said it’s okay.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later,” you say and head back upstairs.

You hadn’t even thought about facing Michael again but the reassurance of going out with Lizzie later on made you feel better about yourself — you could only hope that Michael wouldn’t instigate anything else.

After walking past Michael’s, now closed, door, you put your purse under the desk and sit down. There was a noticeably large pile of files that you assumed Michael had put there when you had gone downstairs. You felt stupid for running like that; you needed this job for the money and Finn had begged Tommy for it for you and you couldn’t give that up in a heart beat. As long as Michael stayed away, you could endure your work days.

You sat up, determined to do as much work to keep out of Michael’s way as possible and began skimming through the files.

Some were related to money, others were related to the betting shop, not many though. Most of the legal stuff came this way so only a few things concerning the betting shop would come through, you figured, it was mostly affiliations and shares, somehow. Based upon how little there was you assumed that there was more to come.

The easiest way for you to file these would be chronologically, for now, seeing as Michael hadn’t specified how he wanted it organised — plus a lot of it was a couple of years old, you figured it was some of the stuff that Michael had been doing before he went away and began filing.

Halfway through the stack, you heard Michael’s door open, “Oh, you’re back. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.”

Turning to face him, you ignore the shock on his face and ask, “How do you want these filed? I can do it chronologically but it’ll be hard if you want to refer back to it if you can’t remember exact dates.”

Michael looks at you, waiting for you to meet his eyes; when you finally do, he says, “however you think is best.”

You nod and continue to file them chronologically. Until it isn’t effective, you’ll change them around; it’ll give you something to do where you can avoid him.

“Why don’t you come —”

“No thank you.”

Michael chuckles, “You didn’t even hear what I was going to say.”

You stayed silent, stood with the file in your hands.

Realising that you weren’t going to give up so easy, he says, “I was going to ask if you wanted to see what I was working on.”

You debate in your head with what to say, you settle on seeing whether or not it’s important, “Will it help me understand some of my work here?”

Michael replies, “Yes,” and turns, he has a wide smile on his face, he probably thought that you hadn’t seen it as he had turned away but you caught a glimpse of it.

You place the file on top of the cabinet and walk towards Michael’s office, wondering what he might show you. You’re wary of the fact that half an hour ago you had tried to walk out of the building and away from him.

Stepping into his office, you notice the change in the aura. Not only was it warmer in here, but somehow Michael had managed to make it seem different; you weren’t sure how, though.

Standing in the corner, Michael is watching you as you’re taking in the room, he gestured towards his much more comfier looking desk chair and said, “take a seat. It’ll help in a moment.”

Carefully, you perch yourself on his chair, wary of him standing behind you.

Your ears perk at the sound of Michael shuffling a few things about in the background, you daren’t turn around to see what he was doing. Just as you’re about to stand from the chair, Michael places a hand on the desk and his other on the back of the chair, leaning down to your ear level, he whispers, “You see out the door?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, suddenly aware of the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

“I can see you sitting at your desk currently, but if you were to move it right in the middle, I wouldn’t be able to.”

Your throat suddenly dries, you say, “It’ll help me reach everything with ease.”

Somehow, he manages to lean even closer to you, his breath tickling your neck, “But I won’t be able to see you,” he lifts his hand from the back of the chair and tucks your hair behind your ear, “you’re beautiful to watch when at work.”

It’s at this point that you notice that your muscles have stopped working correctly and the shiver down your spine somehow rendered you motionless, shocked by Michael's works, despite his wife, he has a clear attraction to you. You weren’t sure whether to be freaked out or flattered.

“But,” you manage to choke out, “It’ll be more efficient if my desk is over there.”

Just at that moment, you hear someone coming up the stairs, before they call out, “Did you still want your desk movin’ or —”

You look up at Michael, asking to call out to Finn with just a look. His hand snakes around your mouth and you squeeze your eyes shut, praying that Finn doesn’t find you like this; you’d hate for him to think something was happening.

“She went out to fetch something for me,” Michael calls, standing up from where he was positioned before.

“Well, I’m not sure I can move the desk by myself; I couldn’t find Isaiah.”

“Don’t worry then, Finn.”

“Sure?” His footsteps move closer to the door and Michael moves to the door, to intercept Fin before he reaches you.

“I’m sure,” Michael says, you can hear the tight smile in the way he’s straining his voice, especially now that he’s further away.

You put your hand over your mouth, trying to make yourself as silent as possible.

“Alright, I’ll, uh, go then.”

“See you later.”

And with that, Michael had gotten rid of Finn.

He waits a few seconds, his shadow reaches for his face and rubs it with his hand, “Fuck,” you hear him mumble before he strolls back into his office, where you sat, patiently waiting for him.

“Good girl,” he says.

Your eyes widen at his comment, mortified at yourself and suddenly yearning for the comfort of Finn being there.

You stare at him, pleading for him to explain himself, instead, he walks around the room, your eyes follow him, waiting for his response.

“I’ll move the desk.”

You stay silent for a moment before opening your mouth, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I’ll move the desk,” he simply says and lets you leave.

After that he lets you go back to work. The rest of the day passes without another interruption from Michael apart from the filing he kept giving to you but that was work so you didn’t oppose it. You went down to fetch Lizzie for lunch, a few minutes late, and she says, “Oh, I thought you’d gone out to fetch something for Michael.”

You silently nod, “I did, I slipped past you when you were, uh, working.”

The lie slipped out of your mouth without a bat of an eye and somehow, it worked. 

Lizzie’s face reddened, “Oh, well,” she begins, quickly grabbing her purse, “when the moment strikes, am I right?”

You hadn’t even considered that possibility, and yet, the universe was working in your favour — or maybe it was in Michael’s favour. You weren’t too sure yet; it was too soon to tell.

“Shall we?” Lizzie stands from her desk and walks over to you, slipping her arm through yours and walking out of the building, “does Michael know where you’re going?”

You shake your head, nonchalantly, “No but I’ve done most of the work he’s given me today. I’ll explain when I get back anyway, he can’t deny me a meal, can he?

”You say the last bit in a tone that suggests you weren’t actually sure if he could or not but Lizzie doesn’t pick up on it and laughs at you, “You’re catching on far too quickly; this is perfect.”

“Michael,” you whispered into his suited chest, tightly gripping his shirt in your fingers, fisting your hands together and tried not to cry. You were patting his chest with one hand, acting as a way of slowly releasing your emotions without completely losing it in front of him.

He had instantly pulled away and tilted your chin with the tip of his index, “I’ll fix whatever was wrong; you know that.”

Instead of smiling, like you had told yourself to at his words, your face scrunched up and salty tears fell from the corners of your eyes.

He had silently wiped them away with his thumbs and kissed your hair softly — so softly that you weren’t even sure if it had happened. He held your head there, hand resting on the back of your neck and breathing in the scent of your clean hair.

He was mumbling things into your hair, hoping that they act as words of kindness, the one that caught your attention, right as you were slowing down the tears from flowing so freely, was, “I care about you. One day — one day, I’ll be able to show you.”

You looked up, and faced him, your cheeks red and stained with dried out tears, your eyes puffy and probably red too. He catches your gaze and holds it, you completely vulnerable in this moment and him taking you in, no matter how raw and real you were right in that moment.

“Michael,” you begin, “I care about you too,” before whispering the next part to yourself, “more than you’ll ever know.”

He holds your gaze, his eyes are soft and he replies, “What kind of person am I if I can't even look after my best friend, eh?”

His fingers rest under your chin, holding it up so you don’t look down. 

It’s dark on the unlit street and his face is so close to yours, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you were more than friends. If he were to lean in and press his lips against yours… just once. 

Your breathing hitched and you banished your thoughts as his fingers sent shivers down your spine as he rubbed circles close to your jaw.

“Friends don’t look at friends that way,” you say to yourself and pull your chin away, looking to the side so as to not face him, “thank you, I think I’ll be good for the night.”

“I’ll walk you.”

You held up a hand, not trusting your voice to break before bursting into tears. You silently walk away, your dignity still intact and make your way home for the night.

Now, you were sitting, staring at him and the girl he was with, her sidling up close to him, running her manicured nails up and down his arm. She radiated confidence and was well-kept, judging by the state of her nails and clean boots, barely even scuffed.

She wasn’t facing you, her back was angled in such a way that made it clear to him that she was trying to talk in a low manner to Michael without making it too obvious to everyone else in the Garrison. Michael was not pushing her off, simply ignoring the hand placed delicately on his chest and the light hitting on his arm whenever he said something mildly funny.

You carefully sipped from your whiskey glass, trying to avoid Michael’s occasional glances as he checked up on you.

You turned your head and faced Harry behind the bar, taking longer sips from your glass before asking for another. 

Harry winked and poured another before leaning over the bar and saying only so you could hear it, “He’s clueless. Even I can see the attraction between the two of you.”

Laughing, you wave your hand in the air, brushing off Harry’s comment and keeping the large grin plastered on your face, “Keep me tipsy, Harry, and I’ll make an attraction between the two of us. Goodness, there’s no chance of that; we’re only friends,” you lightly laughed, referring to yourself and Michael with a vague gesture with your glass in Michael’s direction.

Harry shook his head, “Friends don’t look at friends that way.”

Faltering, you think about what you had said last night. You quickly drag yourself back into the reality that you were living, a dimly lit pub with sticky floorboards and strong liquor flowing through your veins, it certainly wasn’t where you thought you would be seeing yourself ten years ago. You giggled at your thoughts, mildly drunk and threw back the glass swinging around in your hand.

Michael stops, watching you as the girl purrs something into his ear. He hums in response, trying to pretend that he's paying attention to her, but failing when she sits back and looks over her shoulder to see what he was watching so intently.

“Her?”

Michael snaps his head back to the austere woman in front of him.

“I can show you a better time than her,” she leans in again, aware that she has Michael’s full attention as she allows her hands to wander his limbs.

Michael’s eyes flicker between you and the woman evidently coming onto him. You had seen her place her hands in places you could have only dreamt of.

Your face was sour and you hadn’t yet seen Michael observing you. Your eyes rolled and you turned your head back to the liquor in your hand. Resting one hand in your hair, it lifted and started to look messy. You could feel the knots gathering so you ran your hand through your hair, hoping to relieve some knots and pent up anger you weren’t aware of.

Jealousy.

That’s what Michael saw scribbled all over you face as it scrunched and let sighs escape your unforgiving lips — at least that’s what he assumed they were like.

He’d only ever imagined what it would be like to press his lips against yours and hungrily claim them. What he would give to run his tongue down your neck and kiss your ticklish spot before sucking it and leaving a prominent mark, one that screamed that you were his. How he would love to cherish every inch of your body, slowly devouring it piece by piece as your eyes filled with lust and the atmosphere in the room changed — of course he’d only imagined all of this.

Falling back into reality, he remembered the woman in front of him, oblivious to his attraction to another woman in the vicinity.

She had practically attached herself to him by this point. He was tired of letting her do what she wanted.

Abruptly, he stood up, effectively pushing her off of his lap. She stumbled back and was left with a shocked expression slapped on her face, her cheeks instantly flushing a deep red as the other people in the bar turned to see what the problem was when Michael’s stool had toppled to the ground.

You barely lifted an eyebrow before turning to see what was happening, expecting to see them all over each other but was stunned when he pulled your from your own stoll, flush against his body.

“We’re leaving.”

The second the two of you had stepped foot outside of the Garrison, he pushed you up against the brick wall, an arm either side of your head, trapping you between him, centimetres from your face as he inched closer.

His breath tickled the side of your neck and instantly sent shivers down your spine, “Wha-”

Before you could say another word, he used the opportunity to bring the two of you together, embracing your lips with his own and not giving mercy to your weak knees as he kissed you, hard.

He brought one hand down and rested on your waist, holding him closer to you. The other hand buried itself in your hair, giving you no room to pull away — even if you had wanted to.

He tasted like whiskey and a hint of cigarettes, probably from earlier before the two of you had entered the Garrison.

Bringing his hand around, his fingers spanned across your cheek and he was softening, in this moment, you flipped him around and pulled away to catch your breath, “What was that?”

“Friends don’t look at friends that way, right?”

Trying not to melt right on the spot, you smiled and pulled him in for another kiss, letting your hands wander across his chest and over his shoulders, pushing off his suit jacket. He let it slip right off but before it could hit the floor, you grabbed it.

You pushed yourself off of him and sauntered away, his suit jacket swung over your shoulder and with your other hand, you gripped his tie and pulled him with you, “You don’t know how long I’ve imagined this moment.”

He grins and opens his mouth to reply but you stop him, “Nu-uh, I’m not wasting it all in the first five minutes.”

He obediently follows you, not before watching you walk away  before you looked over your shoulder, hand on hip to see what was taking him so long, giggling you beckoned him and kissed him chastely on the lips and walked alongside him, his fingers curled around yours.