A/N: I found the scene in The Cosby Show where Clair talks about what would happen after she died and I decided to Taggartfy it and turn it into a M/J one-shot. Hope you enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
No One Else
Michael lay in bed waiting for the hammer to strike.
He knew that Jackie had been stewing over seeing one of their recently widowed friends with his new, young girlfriend. It was only a matter of time before she said something.
The light snapped on.
Michael blinked at the sudden light.
"I want you to know, that if I die, you have my permission to marry again," Jackie stated.
"I have your permission?" he asked.
She nodded, "Yes, I want you to find someone who makes you happy and can help you take care of the kids."
Michael looked at her for a moment, "Thank you," he said finally, unsure of what else he was meant to say. With a brief nod he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.
"Would you?"
Michael opened his eyes; he had hoped that would be the end of it. "No," he told her, closing his eyes again.
"Under no circumstances, if I died, you would marry again. You'd stay single forever?"
Michael sighed and rolled over to look up at her, "Yes." He made to roll over again, but she continued speaking.
"Would you date somebody?"
Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbow, "No, I wouldn't."
Jackie suddenly laid back and closed her eyes, "Ok, I'm dead, I'm gone."
Michael wiped a hand over his face, he was too tired for this, "And you're still in the bed with me?"
She shot him a look before she sat up. She tried a different tack, "What if you met a gorgeous international type beauty?"
Michael considered this for a moment as he sat up also, "Not my type," he said settling back against the pillow.
"Well what is your type?" she demanded.
Michael looked over at her and smiled, "You," he said, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek.
"Ok, say you met me," she suggested.
Michael fell back against the pillows in defeat.
"Say there's someone out there just like me," she continued.
Michael decided that maybe the conversation would be over faster if he just played along. "Exactly like you?" he asked, Jackie nodded, "And you're dead?" she nodded again; Michael shook his head and let out a low whistle. "Ok, well then I would call her up and I would court her, introduce her to children and I...I would marry her," he said, he looked over at Jackie.
Her expression was unreadable and she turned the light off, Michael began to wonder if he'd said the wrong thing.
"Would you keep my picture up?" she asked into the darkness.
"I wouldn't have to, she'd look exactly like you," the words were barely out of his mouth when he felt the blankets pulled off him as she rolled over.
That was when he was positive he'd said the wrong thing.
In the dark he could just make out her outline, turned away from him. He decided he'd talk to her in the morning.
...
The next morning Michael slowly came to consciousness, aware that someone was staring at him. Thinking it was Jackie or one of the children he opened his eyes, only to come face to face with Nelson.
"Nelson, hasn't anyone let you out?" he asked.
Nelson just continued staring at him, wagging his tail now that Michael was awake and speaking to him. Michael glanced over to the other side of the bed and noticed that Jackie was missing. With a long suffering sigh, Michael stood up and ushered the dog out of the room.
"Come on, boy, let's get you outside," he said, leading the way downstairs.
After he had let Nelson out and gotten one of the children (who were watching TV) to give the dog his breakfast he made his way back into the bedroom in search of Jackie, who hadn't been downstairs like he supposed.
He'd just turned his back for a second when someone came rushing out of the en suite, knocked him face down on the bed and twisted his arm up his back.
He recognised Jackie's familiar scent and relaxed, well, as much as he could with her pinning him down on the bed.
"What is the matter with you?" he asked, trying to keep some of the amusement out of his tone.
"You're not going to keep my picture up?" she demanded.
He knew it was probably a dumb thing to do, but he burst out laughing at her comment.
He was right: it was a dumb thing to do and she twisted his arm up higher. "Yes, I'll keep your picture up," he assured her, grimacing.
"Where?"
"In the hallway," she twisted his arm harder.
"Where?" she asked again sweetly.
He couldn't resist teasing her further, "In the closet."
He paid for it with another arm twist, but it had been worth it; "Where?" she asked again, this time with a trace of amusement in her tone.
"Above the bed," he said finally, still fighting a losing battle against his laughter. He couldn't believe she was doing this, it was so absurd.
"Blow up over the bed, I want a blow up over the bed Michael," she told him.
"With lights," he agreed.
"And what will the children call her?" she demanded next.
"Lola," he replied without missing a beat.
She twisted his arm up further, "I was just kidding," he insisted.
He was relieved when he heard her laugh and she leaned down and kissed his cheek, "I'll make you some coffee," she told him as she let him up.
"You know I made that statement under duress," he told her.
She grinned, "You mean you'd admit that you were held down by your wife?" she asked.
He pulled her close, "I just didn't want you to get hurt," he told her as he kissed her, "and there really is no one else for me, but you," he added.
She smiled, "Nor you for me," she told him as she kissed him again.