Disclaimer: Burn Notice and all of its characters belong to Matt Nix and the USA Network. However, I wouldn't mind borrowing Jeffrey Donovan on occasion. Hell, let's be honest, I'd probably even borrow Bruce.

I have to share this with you guys...my cousin Murphy (who is from Belfast, N. Ireland, exciting, I know) is coming over with my three other cousins Jameson, Seamus, and D'Arcy for Christmas. He called me today to tell me that he's bringing a friend of his that I met when we were kids to set us up on some kind of date. I haven't seen this man since we were five years old and he threw crab apples at me, but I distinctly remember his dark hair, green eyes, freckles, and I remember asking my mother why he spoke funny. Apparently, his name is Michael. An Irishman named Michael.

JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH WHAT IS THIS?! Someone in the universe apparently is trying to have a laugh at my expense. I'm okay with this...but that has nothing to do with this little fic. This is just a little fluff piece because we can never have enough Michael and Fi fluff. It's not very long, but I hope you enjoy it!

"Hold onto me as we go, as we roll down this unfamiliar road.

And although this wave is stringing us along, just know you're not alone,

'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home.

Settle down, it'll all be clear,

Don't pay no mind to the demons, they'll fill you with fear.

The trouble might drag you down, if you get lost, you can always be found.

Just know you're not alone, 'cause I'm gonna make this place your home."

-"Home" Phillip Phillips

Fiona and Michael were stretched out on the bed, basking in the mid-morning sunlight that streamed into the loft.

"I'm totally serious! The look on Sam's face when my mother came in and found him with his pants around his ankles was priceless. I've never seen him running out of my house that fast in my life." Michael mused with a rare, full-bodied laugh. Fiona was gasping and wiping tears away from her eyes as she tried to regain composure before speaking.

"And you told him that she was out of town for the weekend?" She managed between laughs that sounded more like hiccups.

"She was supposed to be, but she came home early." Michael explained, pausing and swallowing a spoonful of the yogurt that sat between them on the bed, teetering precariously with each shift of the mattress. "I had asked Sam to watch the house while I was working a job, but apparently he was doing a bit more than housesitting. Mom had told me that she thought she heard someone in the house, so I went over to check. It completely slipped my mind that it was probably Sam."

"Oh, I'm sure you 'forgot' that he was house sitting." She chuckled, reaching between them and catching the yogurt seconds before it fell over. Fiona moved to set it on the floor next to the bed before turning back to look at Michael.

He was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling with his hands folded on his bare chest. Fiona laid back down and propped her head up on her hand, smiling at him warmly. He stared at the ceiling for a moment before noticing her staring him and turning his head to look at her.

"What?" He questioned, quirking and eyebrow and reaching out to tuck a curl behind her ear.

"Nothing, I just..." She paused and sucked in a deep breath before shifting closer until her body brushed against his. Reaching down, she twined her fingers with his and brought his hand to her lips, placing a gentle kiss to each of the knuckles before continuing. "Did you ever think that we'd get to this place?"

"...Miami?" He questioned, somewhat confused by her question.

"That's not what I meant, Michael." She sighed, swatting at his chest playfully. "I meant here. This. Us. Did you ever think that we'd get to this point in our relationship? Did you ever know that this was where we'd end up?" Michael hesitated, thinking over the question a moment before nodding.

"In Ireland."

"Ireland?"

"Yeah. That's when I knew. There was a night, in your apartment, when you made me that stuffed pasta that Claire..." Michael hesitated when he saw the flash of pain in Fiona's eyes. "You made me dinner, and told me that I was too thin, so someone had to put some meat on my bones."

"I still think you're too thin." She teased, prodding his ribs until he scowled at her and leaned down to playfully nip at her finger.

"Anyway, we were eating, and you reached over and wiped pasta sauce off of my chin with your thumb," He reached out and replicated the action on her clean chin, drawing a fond smile from her. "And then you brought out that chocolate cake with Irish cream frosting. You surprised me for my birthday, even though I didn't even remember."

"You still remember that?" She questioned, her chest warming at the sentiment.

"Of course I do. You were wearing that green, cashmiere turtleneck that you were so fond of, and the grey corduroy pants that we bought that day that we went shopping in Dublin. You looked beautiful." He whispered, turning on his side and draping his arm over her waist, pulling her to his chest.

"Do you ever miss it?" She questioned, her voice as low as his, not wanting to break the low, sensual electricity flying between them. His calloused fingers stroked over the warm, smooth skin of her hip as he slid his fingers under her shirt.

"Miss what? Ireland?" Fiona nodded slowly, her nose brushing over his gently. Michael shook his head. "I missed being with you. That was what I missed. As beautiful as it is, I could take or leave Ireland." He wrapped his arms around her and shifted so that she was sprawled out on top of him, his arms wrapped around her waist. "I wanted to come back to you so badly. You don't know how many times I picked up a satellite phone and wanted to call you."

"But you never did." She whispered, reaching up and cupping his stubbled cheek in her hand, running her thumb over his cheek bone where a few rogue tears had spilled onto his cheeks.

"No. I didn't. But, I need you to know something, Fi." He replied, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. "Everytime that I didn't, I almost did."

"Almost only counts in horse shoes, hand grenades, and atomic warfare, Michael." Fiona teased, leaning down to nip at his lower lip. When she pulled away, Michael was staring up at her, his brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry that I left you there, Fi. And I'm sorry that you can't go back to your home." She silenced him with a swift, deliberate kiss, her lips roaming over his until he groaned softly in the back of his throat. When she pulled away, she pressed her forehead against his.

"Michael, all I've ever wanted to do is be by your side. Wherever you are, that is where my home is. I don't need Ireland, I don't need anywhere else I've ever been." She whispered and his face broke into a thousand-watt-Michael-Westen smile. "I just need you. You are my home." He shifted their position swiftly, pinning her beneath his weight and pulling her into another kiss before he whispered his own response.

"Welcome home, Fi."