Title: Of Guitars and Groupies
Fandom: 24
Characters: Michelle Dessler/Tony Almeida
Word Count: 1,646
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Michelle finds out about one of Tony's hidden talents.
Author's Notes: So I've been sitting on this fic since about April. My most sincere and humble apologies and I hope you like it! No spoilers, just a bit of light-hearted fluff.
"I didn't know you played."
"Hmm?" Michelle asked without lifting her head from under the counter. She knew they had popcorn around here somewhere, and she didn't really have any clue what it was he was talking about.
"Your guitar? The one you were trying to hide in the back of the closet so I wouldn't see? You never told me you played."
Straightening up, she blew a chunk of hair out of her eyes and let the cabinet door swing shut. "Ahh. Yeah. I don't really anymore. And when I did, I was never any good. It was more homage to angry chick rock while I was in college than anything else."
Tony Almeida laughed, still leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. She glanced over at him, raking her eyes up and down his jean and sweater clad form once more. Seriously, the man was illegal in at least ten states.
Tony grinned, catching her eye as she checked him out and holding out his hand. "C'mon, honey. We don't need popcorn to watch the movie."
Unconvinced, she glanced over to the pantry. Maybe there was a box in there. "Are you sure? I feel like I'm breaking some major rule of movie watching."
"Yeah, it's fine. Come on, Michelle."
She grinned as he reached out and tugged on her wrist. That was Tony, impatient as always. Whether it was for a status report or to get started watching tonight's movie, when he wanted it done, he wanted it done now.
She grabbed the open beers off the counter, handing one to him and allowing him to lead her through the small aisle he'd cleared between boxes. It was their first night in their new place, and apart from the kitchen, they weren't even trying to get unpacked. In fact, the one box she'd started to empty was only half done, its contents strewn about the couch.
Instead of putting the things back in the box, Tony shoved them all to one side, clearing enough room for him to sit and pull her down onto his lap. She laughed, but didn't fight it. She'd ended a good portion of their movie nights this way; she might as well save time and start out on top of him.
"Good?" he asked after a few seconds of her squirming. She nodded, resting her cheek on his shoulder.
Instead of starting the movie he caressed her side. She glanced at the blank TV and up at him.
"Honey?"
"Hmm?"
"You know it works a lot better if you hit play, right?"
She laughed when his caress became a tickle in retaliation for her facetiousness.
"I changed my mind. No movie tonight."
She pouted, turning her face on his shoulder and glancing up at him sullenly. "But it's movie night." Movie night was a weekly tradition going back to their third or fourth date. It was a time for them to curl up together and watch the first third of a bad movie, then spend the final two thirds in a (sometimes) half-naked clinch on the couch, and she liked that tradition.
He grinned, cupping her chin and taking great care to kiss the pout from her lips.
"We'll do movie night tomorrow," he promised. "I wanna see you play that guitar tonight."
Michelle groaned. She should've seen that one coming. He'd given up on that line of questioning far too easily to have not had that up his sleeve.
"Tony," she whined. "I probably don't even remember how."
Tony squeezed her gently. "I'll bet you do. Come on, just one thing for me. Please?"
He pressed his face into her neck, kissing her softly and making her shiver from the soft flutters of his eyelashes against her skin.
She sighed. "Fine. But just one thing. And you can't laugh when it's awful."
He nodded. "Deal."
Groaning again, she stood and crooked her finger at him. "I'm not doing this in here. Let's go. And bring my beer, I'm gonna need it."
He followed her to their bedroom obediently, holding onto both of their beers while she gripped the offending instrument by the neck and shoved a pile of towels out of her way and onto the floor. Behind her, Tony chuckled. Yeah, the only things she ever had an advantage over were terrycloth and he knew it.
She sat down, crossing her legs partially underneath her and resting the guitar across her lap. She fumbled for a moment with how to hold it, shooting a look in her fiancé's direction that dared him to laugh. Tony just sipped on his beer and pretended that he wasn't about to bust a gut at her expense.
Surprisingly enough, the first time she strummed the guitar was perfectly in tune. It hadn't been in tune since she moved into her first apartment. She narrowed her eyes and looked at Tony again. He shrugged, grinning slightly. So he had known about it, long enough to go to the trouble of getting it tuned. The cheater.
She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if he'd found the instructional book that went along with the guitar. She'd never been able to play anything without it, but she supposed she'd try to remember, even if it was just 'Mary Had A Little Lamb.'
Two notes later, two wrong notes later, she stopped, sighing in frustration.
"I can't, Tony. I haven't even thought about playing in almost three years. I really don't want to."
He moved beside her, passing over her beer and taking the polished wood from her hands. He kissed her once slowly.
"You sounded okay to me," he reassured, making her roll her eyes.
"I played two chords and both were wrong."
"Hey, it's two more chords than you played yesterday."
She laughed sardonically, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "I don't know why I haven't gotten rid of the damn thing. It's not like I'm any good at it."
"And yet we still moved two sets of cookware into this house," he teased, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, chuckling when she smacked his thigh. "If you enjoy playing, who cares if you're good at it?"
Sipping her beer she considered what he'd just said.
"Personally, I thought you looked pretty hot. Would you mind holding it more often? You don't even have to play anything," he added, making her laugh.
"I'll think about it," she replied, lifting her head, smiling slightly. "Can we watch the movie now, please?"
Tony shook his head, mid-sip of his beer. She took another sip of her own, preparing to stand and tug him impatiently back to the living room.
"One sec," he promised, setting the bottle down on the nightstand – without a coaster, she noted with rolled eyes – and lifting the guitar back into his lap, balancing it expertly on his knee. He took a second to familiarize himself with the fret board, and she saw his fingers tease the strings the same way he lazily trailed his hand up her back at night. He'd done this before.
She watched him bite his lip in concentration as he began to play, the first few chords coming out hesitant. When he hit his stride, though, he picked up the tempo, humming the melody to her favorite song as he went. She looked up from the graceful movements of his fingers to see him smiling as he played. Now ihe/i was hot.
His humming turned to lyrics and she flushed red when he made eye contact with her. He might not be great at it, but he was singing to her. No one had ever done that for her before, not that - until now - she would have even wanted someone to. But, as always, with Tony it was just different.
He hardly had time to set the guitar aside before she'd pushed him onto his back and was climbing over him, bending to capture his lips. He groaned as she moved across his jaw and down his throat, licking his Adam's apple and tugging the collar of his sweater away from his neck. Suckling gently on his throat, she felt him hum and hummed back in response.
His fingers tangled in her hair, dragging her back up to meet his lips while his other hand slid easily underneath her shirt. She grinned into his mouth, squirming her hips against his and laughing when he bucked up against her.
"Where'd you learn to play like that?" she panted, digging her fingers into his hair.
He smiled that shit eating grin of his and shrugged, pulling her shirt over her head, forcing her to let go of his hair.
"Wanted to be a rock star when I grew up."
While his fingers worked at her pants, she threw her head back and laughed, picturing Tony as a little boy with floppy dark curls running around his house playing air guitar for anyone who'd watch. Her stomach clenched when she pictured her own son doing the exact same.
She didn't get to contemplate that image much longer. He flipped her over and onto her back, stripping off his own outer clothes and sliding between her legs. Her hands stroked his chest and her lips tried to follow.
"Yep. Most famous rock star ever. I even had a band name picked out. Wanna be my groupie?" he rumbled, shifting against her and pressing his face into the space between her breasts, licking her skin gently.
Grinning stupidly, she nodded, arching up against him.
"I was gonna ask if you gave lessons in star power, but that works for me."