A/N: Originally posted on AO3.
"I earned it. I deserve it. I earned it. I deserve it." Michaela repeats the mantra in her head in an effort to strengthen her resolve and assuage the guilt she feels creeping upon her as she prepares to search Asher's apartment.
The words had come to her the moment she decided to embark on her excursion, the prospect of claiming the prized trophy preferable to returning to her empty apartment to study as the memories of the horrid dinner she'd just had with her future mother-in-law plague her mind. At the time there'd been no guilt, just solid resolve, but uncertainty rears its ugly head when she steps over the threshold of Asher's door and is met by his bemused expression.
She makes small talk, discretely checking the areas of his apartment visible as she moves toward his couch, and finally lures him away with the request for a drink. The second Asher leaves the room she rises from her spot and moves quickly to closely scan every surface and corner; his continued chatter becoming the background noise of her search. She's sure the trophy is here, hidden somewhere amongst the piles of dirty laundry and disorganized books.
The tastefully decorated area surprises her, despite the mess, but she wastes no time with that thought. The coffee table and desk are both clear, so she turns, heading to a bookshelf against the wall on the opposite end of the room. The top two shelves hold nothing but empty beer bottles and disappointment. Undeterred, her eyes traverse the rest of the structure, lighting up when, at least, they spy the base of the trophy, the head of which is wedged in a visibly stained sock.
Pursing her lips in disgust, Michaela gingerly removes it, trying to touch as little of the soiled item of clothing as possible. That done she grasps her prize, already envisioning what she'll do with the free time she'll have as her classmates take Professor Keating's torturous final exam.
Exhaling in relief, Michaela smiles brightly before turning to make her escape.
Her joy is cut short when Asher's voice, incredulous and loud, halts her in her progress to the front door.
"Are you taking my trophy?"
Steeling herself for an argument, Michaela tightens her grip on the trophy before turning to face him. "Actually it's my trophy. Annalise said as much." It's not the exact truth, but near enough for Michaela's comfort.
"No, she didn't!" The beers in his hand are discarded on the closest table, displacing a book that had been teetering on its edge as Asher rushes toward her, stopping just within hand's length.
"Yes, she did. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go turn this in." Michaela readies to spin on her toes when she is again stopped by Asher's words.
"I'm not letting you leave here with that." His hands cross along his chest, jaw clenching as he looks her over.
Michaela meets his challenge with a head tilt and raised eyebrow. "What? Are you going to fight me?" Inside she braces herself in case his answer is, "Yes." She'll use the trophy as a weapon if need be, and turn it in to Professor Keating, bloodstains and all.
At that Asher deflates, his arms dropping to his sides as he exhales with a shake of his head. He looks around his apartment, grasping at what to do next.
"No," he replies after a beat, his face lighting up with an idea, "but we can drink for it."
"That is the dumbest thing I've ever hear," Michaela scoffs.
"Scared you'll lose," Asher taunts.
The smirk on his face is infuriating, and Michaela recognizes the childish jab for what it is, a means to goad her into agreeing to his ridiculous bet. She doesn't outright decide against it though. She's had a hell of an evening, and could use a drink, even if it is with Asher. Plus a win would do her good after the belittling served to her by Aiden's mother.
"Fine," she moves back into the apartment, placing the trophy beside the beers on the coffee table. "When I win I can also brag about drinking you under the table."
"Awesome." Asher claps in triumph. "I'll get the goody good stuff."
Watching him leave, Michaela removes her jacket and drapes in along the back of his couch, settling in for what better be an evening of victory.