To preface this: I don't have a clue as to how to do this. This is my first fanfiction and my first time posting on here (so please try to be nice). Anyways, I've noticed that Michael/Amanda fics were a bit hard to come by on here (the ones that I've seen are awesome) so I decided to write some one-shots based off of their relationship, this chapter being when they first met each other. Review and all that stuff and I hope that you enjoy this.
The first rays of sunlight drug Michael from his deep sleep. He immediately shut his eyes again, though, unwilling or unable to expose himself to the early morning yet. Besides, his bed was nice and warm and he was absolutely drained from the previous night. Wow, that job took more out of me than I thought, he mused. He wasn't about to exit his sleepy state and teetered on the edge of consciousness for about another five minutes.
At least he was until he heard the small snore coming from somewhere to the left of him. His eyes shot open as he sat up abruptly. Pain lanced through his head at the action, the beginnings of a hangover starting to form. A single thought formed in his muddled head as he gazed around the room: this was not his bed. In fact, it wasn't his trailer at all. He closed his eyes and sighed, now tasked with trying to figure out what the hell happened last night.
When it felt like a railway spike wasn't being driven through his skull, his eyes reluctantly fluttered open. Michael squinted against the light as he examined the unfamiliar surroundings wearily. The first thing he noticed was his clothes strewn about the otherwise neat bedroom. Neater than his, at least. It took a moment for his addled mind to register that they were there and not on him. He was suddenly acutely aware of the wintry North Yankton air attacking his bare chest and pulled the comforter up a bit further.
Finally, he had enough courage to glance at the girl next to him. Like him, she had no clothes on, her own scattered around haphazardly. Her dark hair fell in front of half of her face, obscuring her pretty features. Subconsciously, he knew that it was soft to the touch. Long lashes rested against her pale skin as she slept. A faint, blurry memory told him that her eyes were a vibrant blue. Fuck...she's cute, he thought as he gazed at her. She looked about his age, early twenties, maybe a little bit younger than him. It took a few more moments to recall her personality, confident and seductive with a sharp sense of sarcasm despite her drunkenness.
He eventually turned away and sat there awkwardly, unsure as to what he should do. It was hardly new for the charming young thief to be in this type of scenario. Most of the time, he just got dressed and left without another word…that was the point of a one night stand, right? As a few hazy memories surfaced of last night, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to.
Michael sat at the bar, nursing the remainder of his third beer. He was in a surprisingly good mood after his most recent heist. No casualties...no injuries...what was there to complain about? Recently, with the more crimes he committed and the more people he killed was getting to him. His crew saw it as him going soft even though he argued he was being smart.
They were at some strip club because what was a better way to celebrate earning money by blowing all of it on lap dances and cheap alcohol? He'd spent most of the time at the bar, mostly focused on getting wasted. So far all he had was a faint buzz.
Trevor materialized next to him. "Mikey!" he slurred as he waved his arms in wild, spastic motions, damn near spilling his own Pisswasser on him.
"Hey, T, what's up?" Michael said, finishing off the watered-down drink. He set the bottle down and ran his thumb along the cool, wet glass, watching the condensation run along his finger.
"What's up is that you need to be having more fun, you hardass! Even Lester is having a better time than you!" His psychopathic best friend roughly grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him and the barstool around so that he faced the strip club. He looked around the dark, hot club, largely uninterested except for the brunette giving him flirtatious glances. Michael saw a few of the crew, all preoccupied with strippers. True to Trevor's word, Lester was getting a lap dance. That finally made him rethink his decisions.
"Maybe you're right…" he admitted hesitantly.
"Of course I am, you chubby prick!" Trevor roared. Michael looked down at himself and frowned, he was a pretty muscular guy, if a bit more brawny than his friend. He didn't notice Trevor talking to the bartender until he held two shots of whiskey in front of him.
"I thought you hated whiskey," Michael remarked with a confused frown.
"Oh, it's fucking disgusting…" Trevor said, much to Michael's dismay, "...but these are for you. Maybe you won't be such a stick in the mud when you're drunk."
"Ah, fuck it, give 'em to me," he relented, grabbing the drinks. No way would he pass up free alcohol. Besides, if it shut Trevor up, that was good enough. He downed the two glasses of amber liquid in rapid succession. It was good whiskey, surely expensive. All of the alcohol suddenly hit him like a truck and he knew he was well on his way towards his goal of getting wasted.
"There ya go! Now you're ready to have fun!" Trevor said as he patted Michael on the shoulder.
"Oh, I'm ready..." Michael stood up uneasily, staggering a couple of steps. He made his way to the stripper who was eyeing him earlier, nearly running into her in the process.
"Whoa there, big boy…" she said, looking him up and down with an almost predatory glint in her eyes.
He stared at her, at a loss for words for once, unusual for the suave thief. "Uhm…" he stammered as he fished money from his wallet.
She smirked at him expectantly. "Private dance?"
He nodded eagerly. "Yeah…" he finally managed. Michael followed her to the back room, trying to ignore the bouncer (who looked like he was very good at enforcing the look-but-don't-touch rule) glaring at him.
She playfully shoved him down in a chair. "Close your eyes, darling. I'll be right back," she said before disappearing from view.
Michael obeyed, shutting his eyes with a small grin. His ears filled with the thumping pop music blasting in the club before the distinctive clicking of heels returned. He hesitantly opened an eye, the other quickly shooting open when he was greeted by the sight of the girl in nothing but red lace underwear.
She gave him a Cheshire cat smile. "I never told you to open them... I do like rule-breakers though."
Nothing but stuttering attempts of words came out of his mouth when he opened it. His eyes wandered along her body, from every curve to the soft outline of her collarbone to the dark brown hair framing that pretty face.
"So…" she started as she began, letting her exposed body undulate into his face, "Cat got your tongue?" He could tell that she was drunk as well by the slight slur of her speech.
Michael seemed to have recovered since their awkward meeting. "No, I'm sorry, I just don't run into girls as sexy as you every day…" he said with a smirk as she grinded against him.
"Charming…" she chuckled as she continued. Her client squirmed in his seat as he watched, glancing around the corner for the bouncer.
She noticed quickly, a smirk crossing her face. "Relax, pretty boy. They don't give a shit if you get a bit handsy."
Michael didn't quite believe that judging by the look of the guy he saw earlier. His hands caressed every inch of her, wandering along the contours of her body. It felt exhilarating, like nothing he had ever experienced before. They stayed like that for a while until she stopped and turned around to glance at the clock. "I'm sorry, babe. I'm afraid our time is almost up…" She turned to face him and raised her eyebrows when she saw him with a fifty held between his teeth.
"I got time," he said simply.
Fire coursed through his veins and it wasn't just because of the amount of alcohol he consumed. The raging inferno burned on as he made out with the brunette, the taste of alcohol present as their tongues danced to an undiscovered tune. The erratic thumping of the music from inside the club only fueled the blaze. They were outside, with her pinned to the wall by him. He had gone outside for a cigarette...she came out and asked him for a light...and now they were here.
One of his hands was entangled in her soft dark curls, the other holding her waist steady. "Name?" Michael grunted as he pressed her harder against the wall. He could feel her hesitation as he ran his lips along her jaw. She tasted of sex, sweat, and some kind of flowery perfume he couldn't identify. It felt far more intoxicating than the three- or maybe four? - more shots he had throughout the night, not counting the beers before that. "Your real one? I can't keep calling you 'that smoking hot stripper' all night."
Her nails dug into the leather of his jacket. "It has its appeal…" she gasped out as he started to kiss her neck. He felt her tension melt away slightly as she whispered, "Amanda," in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine (he tried his hardest to convince himself that it was from the cold) and he distracted himself with softly nibbling at a spot on the side of her neck.
"I'm Michael," he said as he pulled away slightly, his breath coming out in quick puffs, visible in the frigid air. The dull light of the alley casted shadows along her face, making her features a little sharper, cheekbones a bit higher. Her startling, seemingly endless blue eyes, brighter than his own, threatened to drown him. "Hm, it suits you…" he muttered.
"And how so, Michael?" she whispered softly, seductively, her lips ghosting over his stubbled jaw.
"Beautiful…" he murmured.
Amanda pulled back with a teasing smirk on her face and he was unsure if her cheeks were red from his comments or from the cold. "Where'd you steal that from?"
He just chuckled and leaned down, meeting her lips in a deep, intense kiss. They occasionally broke apart for air, even then only stopping for a few seconds. He groaned slightly as he felt her start to grind against him. Michael roughly pulled her closer, his fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt. His hands started wandering up and down her body, finally coming to rest on her hips. "Fuck…this is nice," he admitted in a low voice.
"Yeah…" she breathed out, a thoughtful look on her face. "Listen, my break's about up but my shift is almost over and I was wondering...do you wanna take me home?"
Michael's eyes widened. "Yeah, sure...I mean, of course," he stuttered and wondered once again what it was about her that made him so speechless.
She laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you soon."
A smile tugged at the corners of Michael's lips. It had been a really long time since he felt that good. Even though he'd been wasted, he felt an undeniable spark, a fire between them. It felt way too large for him to ignore. He scoffed slightly at how corny he sounded. Maybe I really do watch too many movies…
With a sigh, he reluctantly got from underneath the covers as quietly as possible, figuring that he should at least get dressed before he made any more decisions. The thief winced at the cold and hastily looked around for his clothes. He had just slipped his boxers on before he heard her stir.
"Fuck…" Amanda immediately muttered, the curse muffled by her pillow. The brunette sat up, yawning as she brushed the hair away from her face. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw him but soon relaxed, the memories of last night certainly coming back to her. "Ugh, hey...your name's Michael...isn't it?"
"Yeah…" he replied awkwardly, slipping his jeans on. "It's Amanda, right?"
"I'm surprised you remembered," she said, the faintest hint of a smile on her face. "You were really drunk last night...so was I, but...most guys don't even bother asking."
"How could I forget?" he asked teasingly as he put his belt on. Frowning, he looked around for his shirt. "Uh...have you seen…?"
"Oh, yeah, here," she leaned over the side of the bed and tossed him his t-shirt. Her blue eyes studied him cautiously as he got dressed. Admittedly, she was liking what she was seeing. A smirk formed on his face when he noticed her staring at him, biting her lip slightly with an unsure look on her face.
A blush crept up her cheeks. "Do you want some coffee?" Amanda asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
"That'd be great, uh, thanks," he said as he slipped on his jacket.
She got up out of the bed. Always the gentleman, he turned away as she got dressed. About a minute later, he heard her scoff, "It's not like you haven't seen everything already." He opened his mouth to say something, apologize, maybe, but was cut off by her laugh. "I'm just fucking with you."
With a sheepish look, Michael turned around to face her. Despite wearing much more modest clothes than last night, a t-shirt and jeans, he found her just as beautiful. He followed her into the small kitchen. Like him, she also lived in a trailer. It was all she could afford with what she made stripping, he figured.
She seemed to read his mind. "I know it's not that big but…" she started in a defensive tone as she handed him a mug of coffee. He would have wondered how someone so young could look so disappointed in their life already if he didn't already see it every time he looked in a mirror.
"What? Oh, I'm not judging. I've lived in one my whole life, okay?" he defended himself as he took a drink.
"Really?" Amanda said curiously, "Thought you were a billionaire or something with the way you and your friends were throwing money around last night."
"Nah, I got money but I probably blew most of it last night anyways," he noted with a chuckle. "I'm not a businessman or anything, if that's what you're askin'."
"You kinda struck me as the type, though," she said, sipping her coffee.
"What do you mean by that?" he asked in a slight defensive tone.
"All that charm and talk. For a minute, I was a little worried you'd start pitching me products," she leaned against the counter with a smirk.
He laughed, enjoying her company. She wasn't like most other girls he met, she actually seemed to understand him. "Do you, uh, do you remember anything else that happened?"
Her expression turned thoughtful. "Well...your creepy friend found us right before we left and mentioned something about getting laid and that he'd see you tomorrow. Sounded high as a kite, too."
"That's Trevor for you…" he muttered. Suddenly, another part of her explanation clicked in him. Just before they had gone to the strip club, Lester told him and the rest of the crew that he had some work for them to do the next day. He looked up at the clock, seeing that it was nearing noon. "Ah, shit."
"What is it?" she asked.
"I really have to go. Uh, work, y'know." Michael winced. It sounded like a lame excuse, even to him.
Amanda tilted her head slightly with a frown. "I forgot to ask...what do you do?"
Shit, he thought. In his line of work, he didn't ever date so he never had to deal with the inevitable question of what he did for a living. Even if he did, it was really something he wouldn't reveal. He could lie, he was good at that. Honestly, he should've really just left when he could have, the chance that he'd never see her again was pretty high. But he wasn't sure if he wanted that. "It's...it's complicated."
She raised an eyebrow at that but opted not to comment. "Listen...do you wanna go out sometime?" he asked suddenly. "On an actual date where we won't be drunk and you won't have to take your clothes off in front of me."
"Hmm…" she muttered, and once he again he found himself under her scrutinizing gaze. He didn't mind being studied by those eyes, though. "You are pretty cute, I do like my men with a good amount of muscle...and you actually have all of your teeth, which I really can't say for most guys around here. Last night was pretty fun from what I can remember, plus I'm sure I can get you to tell me what sketchy job you no doubt have. So... fuck it, why not?"
"Great," he said with a smile as she wrote down her number.
She handed him the slip of paper with a grin of her own, "If you lose it, well...you know where to find me."
"Alright, I'll call you later, okay?" he started for the door, still beaming from ear to ear.
"Goodbye, Michael," Amanda called out in a singsong voice. Maybe the Prince Charming she'd been waiting for had finally come for her...
Neither of them could have possibly known how important that decision to go on a date would be or that it would be the start of a relationship that would last for years to come.