#liamicheal

Her claw-like nails attacked his flesh and she dragged him around the corner, nothing but pure fury in her eyes. Micheal, naturally, couldn’t help himself but laugh, even as his back smacked into the wall and a wave of pain rolled down his spine.

Lia’s hands were square on his chest, pinning him in place roughly. For someone so small she was a lot stronger than she looked and Micheal couldn’t deny he liked it. Of course he couldn’t deny anything with her around anyway.

Her eyes burnt holes through him, “how dare you-“

“I know you want me darling but you could’ve asked,” he cut her off, not fighting her touch one bit, instead leaning back into the wall so she could push him even harder, “pinning me to the wall is so unrefined.”

“I’m give you fucking refined,” she growled, curling her finger around his shirt brutally before pulling him forwards, close to her, then pushing him back again, fighting a smile as his back slammed into the wall again.

“Rough,” he grinned to hide his wince, tongue sliding across his teeth, “I like it.”

“Let’s see if you still like it when I dislocate your arm,” she spat fiercely.

“Kinky,” he winked.

Her fingers tightened around the fabric but her face flattened to a forged numbness. She stared at him, devoid of any amusement or emotion at all, “not everything is a joke Micheal.”

“You’re right,” he nodded thoughtfully, secretly admiring the way her left eye squinted by the slightest fraction betraying her annoyance, “let’s get our clothes off, then we can get serious.”

“You wish,” she scoffed, letting go of his shirt but keeping her knee snugly situated between his legs incase he had any escape routes planned.

He snorted, wary of her position but not showing it, “be honest with yourself now darling, you want-“

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Lia snapped, inching closer, “men are always so quick to tell a woman she wants but let me tell you-“

“Wait-“

“Uh-uh,” she clamped her hand over his mouth, “my turn, you shut up.”

“Rude,” he mumbled, the word muffled by her hand.

Lia rolled her eyes, her face sagging with exhaustion, the girl always seemed to have fire in her belly but not today, something was off, “I don’t even know why I try with you anymore,” she muttered, taking her hand away.

“Careful darling,” he said in a low voice, dipping his head so their eyes had no choice but to connect, “you’re getting vulnerable. I thought we didn’t do that.”

A knot twisted in her gut. He was right. They didn’t do vulnerable and she was letting herself graze that territory. Disgusted at the thought, she put all her walls came back up, this time even icier.

“I hate you,” she hissed, her teeth barred in some sort of primal defence.

“Believe me darling,” Micheal whispered, leaning in closer still, “I hate you so much more.”

Their faces were inches from one another’s, noses so close they could touch. Classically, it would be moments before they were having a lust-filled angered make out session, but not today. Anything Lia had ever wanted from him had disappeared the second she found out what he’d done.

Her lips curved upwards, “you’re lying.”

She allowed her voice to smooth and adopt a sweetness she loathed because she knew it’d be driving him crazy.

“And you’re hiding how you really feel about me behind a forged anger,” he smirked back, “two can play at that game, darling.”

She wrinkled her nose, narrowing her eyes, “you disgust me.”

“Thank you,” he hummed merrily, then paused.

He dared to reach out and tenderly brush the hair from her face to get her back for the voice stunt that had indeed driven him a little insane in the moment. Lia shivered as his fingers grazed her skin, so softly it made her face ache after they’d left.

Micheal and Lia didn’t do tender.

They didn’t do the lovey-dovey mushy stuff. It was all heated, scorching, flames, it was dangerous teriory and screaming matches, and lustful grabs and playful biting. They didn’t do gentle or sweet or anything remotely resembling a healthy relationship.

“Stop touching me,” she snarled.

“Scared you’ll enjoy it?” Micheal asked in reply, eyebrow quirked upwards as he dropped his fingertips behind her ear.

“Dream on, foot face,” she taunted.

“So are you going to tell me what’s got your knickers in a twist or are you going to keep pretending you don’t want to kiss me right now,” he said bluntly.

“You flatter yourself too much,” she replied coldly, pulling away, “that’s the problem, you have an inflated ego.”

“If that’s your issue with me darling, I don’t think we’re going to get a solution,” Micheal shrugged, folding his arms and leaning back into the wall.

Everything about him was aggravating her, from the tiniest twitch in his features to the octave of his voice. Lia wished for nothing more than to rip his head off of his body and watch it roll across a bloodied floor or maybe tear him limb from limp, torture him slowly and meticulously so every last ounce of pain would bleed from him. She still wasn’t sure he even deserved that mercy.

“That’s not my issue actually,” she quipped, pursing her painted lips.

“Please, enlighten me on this pressing issue you have with me that has caused some serious back damage,” he said, rubbing the soreness, “I hope you have enough money to pay my physio and chiropractor.”

“Daddy’s not lending it to you anymore?” she raised a questioning brow.

“What’s your problem, lay it on me darling,” he sighed, not replying to the previous question and instead putting his hands up as if convicted of a crime, “I won’t bite.” His lips then quirked upwards in that deadly smug expression, “unless you want me to.”

Lia ignored him, her face flat, “you seriously have no clue what you did?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” he mused, his hand sneakily sliding up her thighs.

She kneed him in the groin, “don’t play with me Micheal, you don’t get to do that.”

“I seriously have no idea,” he winced, knees knocking together, barely choking the words out.

She rolled her eyes at his melodrama and leaned back. She let herself analyse his features, those dark sharp eyebrows that looked too similar to the man he hated, that sharp jawline that’d probably been cracked and patched back a few too many times, those dulling hazel eyes that had seen far too much far too soon.

“Huh,” she laughed a little sadly, “I thought you were better than this.”

Not anger, disappointment. Somehow that was worse to Micheal. A thick lump settled in his throat as he tried to run through all the possibilities. Lia turned, saying no more and began to walk away but he lunged after her and grabbed her wrist, spinning her back around.

“What did I do?” he asked, letting his mask slip.

She met his eyes. He looked so desperate, so longing. She even detected a hint of fear, maybe guilt. She couldn’t help but grin. Unlucky for him, Lia liked to watch pathetic men beg.

She leant closer, “figure it out,” she whispered, each words a staccato beat in this tango they’d been forever dancing.

“You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger,” he said, “besides I think I’ve got permanent brain damage after how hard you just kicked my manly bits.”

“There is nothing manly about your bits,” Lia deadpanned.

He barked out a half-strangled laugh, “that’s not what you said last weekend.”

“I’m a good liar,” she batted her eyelashes with a sickly sweet smile.

He winced again and caught her eye, seriously, “what did I do Lia?”

His voice was low and gritty, there was no games behind this question, no amusement, no innuendos. He genuinely wanted to know what he’d done wrong, she could see the distress seeping from his skin. It almost made her uncomfortable.

She paused for a long while and let him wait until she finally replied quietly, “you spoke to Cassie.”

Michael’s expression shifted, “no need to be jealous,” he straightened, “she’s Dean’s girl.”

“As if I’d be jealous,” Lia rolled her eyes.

He shrugged, “then what’s your problem?”

“The problem is you told her Micheal,“ she growled in a low threatening voice and if it weren’t for the situation Micheal would’ve found it incredibly sexy.

The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. The conversation he’d had with Cassie. Each word engraved itself into his head, replaying over and over until his stomach turned. Guilt gnawed at his aching bones, not only for what he’d done but his absentmindedness to even doing it.

“Look Lia-“

“So it was you!” she fumed, punching him the the chest, a hard thwack that took his breath away, “I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, touching the blossoming bruise tentatively.

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit to me,” she laughed bitterly.

“It’s not what you think,” he rushed, “I didn’t just start blurting your private life to her it’s just-“

“No,” she shouted over him, cutting him off, “I have trust issues as it is and you fucking know that and you still went and did it.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Micheal pressed, “I swear!”

“How convenient,” she countered, clicking her tongue.

“Lia-“

She shook her head, her voice dropping an octave, “I don’t even want to see your face right now.”

But she didn’t move. Her eyes were pinned on the patterned carpet and her very expensive black Valentino’s that she blamed for cementing her in place.

She felt his fingers skim the underside on her chin, too careful for her liking. She wished his touch meant less, that she didn’t feel heat rise within her or a tingling sensation whenever he dared be loving. Micheal tilted her chin up gently, until their faces were level.

“Look at me Lia,” he whispered, voice cracking as he begged, “please.”

She did with a slow reluctance. Lia didn’t want to let herself but something stupid in her started to hurt hearing him so pathetically desperate.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said slowly.

She tried to turn away but he held her firmly in place. She hadn’t noticed until now the hand that wasn’t under his chin was placed firmly on her hip and he had a tight grasp.

“Tell me I’m lying,” Micheal said, grip tightening.

She stayed silent.

“Tell me what I just told you was a lie,” he exclaimed again, “go on.”

Lia took his hands off, backing away, “I’m not doing this.”

“It’s because you can see I’m not,” he yelled after her, “you know I’m not lying and you hate it.”

She whipped her head around and stopped, “you’re getting rusty at this whole emotion reading shit,” she tried to laugh but the sound was too strained.

“She was gonna find out either way,” Micheal rolled his eyes, “you think her sweetheart Dean wouldn’t have told her if she asked?”

“No,” she snapped, “because Dean knows how to stay loyal to people, Dean knows when to keep his mouth shut and Dean knows how vulnerable I have to be to trust a person and he wouldn’t even think of breaking that.”

“But does Dean know how you taste,” he murmured, backing her into the wall, “does Dean know how to kiss you so hard you forget about your problems, does Dean know how to make feel like you deserve to be loved.”

“I don’t feel anything for you,” she glowered, with a glare that could’ve engulfed him in moments if he hadn’t been so goddam determined.

“I’m no lie detector, but I’m going to say that that was a lie,” he said quietly.

“I’m more the physicality Micheal,” she seethed, pushing him away, “but clearly that’s all you see me as, so fuck this and fuck you.”

“I see you as so much more than you think,” he replied, a wisp of sadness dusting his tone, “so so much more Lia.”

“Then why the fuck did you go ahead and gossip to Cassie about things I like I keep private,” she hurled back at him, “what’s so special about her that she has to know everything? We don’t even know if we can trust her!”

“She was going to find your file!” he yelled, exasperated.

Lia paused. Stilled. And for a rare moment she had nothing to say. Micheal had betrayed her but for better reason. He was protecting her by giving Cassie the edited truth of what really happened, he was saving her from yet another person being a potential threat.

But knowing Micheal there was a twist of this game that played to his advantage too, she just needed to figure out what.

“I would’ve rather that,” she replied darkly.

“Lie,” Micheal whispered shakily

“I would’ve rather that then you tell her, I would’ve rather anything than you tell her because I thought you of all people would know how fucking hard that was for me,” she fired back.

“Lia I did,” he begged she would see the truth, “I do!”

“Clearly not,” she scoffed, “your dad was right you’re just a great big disappointment.”

Micheal stared through her, “you don’t mean that, you just want to hurt me.”

“That’s right I want to hurt you,” she growled, grabbing his shirt again savagely, “I want to hurt you how you hurt me!”

“I’m sorry Lia,” he said gently, almost numb.

She could see, she could see how deeply he meant it but she didn’t want to believe it. Lies sometimes had a way of slipping past her, especially ones she didn’t want to see.

“That’s not good enough,” Lia faltered, voice trembling, “it’s not good enough Micheal.”

“Don’t cry,” he said urgently, “it kills me when you cry.”

“If you think I’m shedding a single tear over you,” she replied, trying to patch up the obvious shakes in her voice, “you’re more stupid than I thought.”

His hands began to slide up her back, “come here.”

She ripped herself away with a fierce cruelty, “don’t touch me!”

“Come on Lia-“

“I let you in Micheal, I don’t let people in and you fucking abused that,” she paused and looked up at him slowly, a spitefulness darting in her features, the words on the tip of her tongue already tumbling out, “like father like son.”

He stumbled back as if he’d been struck across the face. Not an unfamiliar feeling yet somehow this stung the most, even though there was no hit at all.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that,” he shook his head, raising a finger.

“At least I don’t rely on a bottle of whisky to get me through the day,” Lia shrugged.

“No you use your sick and twisted lies instead and create a fantasy that you’re someone better than you are,” he seethed, “so let me be realistic with you Lia, you are not a good person. You are as messed up as I am, but the difference is, you can’t fucking admit it. You go about pretending you’re someone until the real girl under all of this is gone, until Sadie dies.”

She smiled, wide and broad, “you want to talk about pretending,” she barked out a laugh, “you want to talk about pretending?”

He sighed outwardly, “Lia-“

“No, no I’m not done being entirely amused yet,” she smirked, “Sadie’s been dead a long time Micheal but of the two of us, you’re the one who’s scared to admit who you really are.”

“Who am I really then? Care to tell me?” he asked grinning through his pain, arms out ready to be hit by another round of her bullets.

“I’ll let you figure that one out of your own,” she said coolly, turning to walk away, “I do hope you’re not too disappointed with what you find.”

***

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