Thank you all for the positive feedback on the last chapter :D . I'm going to try to update this somewhat regularly (about once a week). Anyways, this story is about Michael breaking some news to his best friend.

Silence hung in the bitter, cold, North Yankton air. Michael could practically feel Trevor's rage, threatening to explode as moments went by. Trevor hadn't exactly taken the news of the engagement well and God only knows what he'd do this time. "She's what?" Trevor finally asked in disbelief.

"She's pregnant," Michael repeated, starting to nervously pace back and forth.

"Weren't you using a condom, dumbass?" Trevor looked like he was about to snap his neck.

"Of course I was but it kind of, uh, broke. Ah...maybe there were a couple times I didn't…but look, Trevor, I would have proposed to her anyway, she's one of the only people that puts up with my crazy shit. I can't have my kid grow up without a dad because I'm dead in the vault of a bank or rotting in a jail cell. I can't do that to Amanda either," Michael said insistently.

"So... what?" Trevor growled, his voice, as well as his anger, starting to rise. "Are you just going to give up everything you have here to move into some suburban house with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard to live out one of your movie fantasies?"

"I don't know! Maybe! I want to be the dad mine never was," Michael said, starting to get annoyed. Trevor was taking this harder than he was, as if he was the one who had a lot more to lose now.

"Are you sure the baby is even yours?" Trevor asked in a snarky tone.

Michael's eyes narrowed. "What the hell are you implying?"

"I'm just saying I've heard she does some work on the side," Trevor said casually.

"Yeah, well, you aren't wrong. I let her do it because in case you hadn't noticed, we ain't the richest couple around," Michael sighed.

"The pimp and the prostitute, how romantic!" Trevor mocked. "You better be careful then, M! One day, it won't just be for the money, and you know that."

Michael's fists curled at his sides, aching for something, or someone, to punch. "You don't talk about her like that," he warned hotly, his jaw clenching.

"Looks like pretty boy can't handle the truth, huh?" Trevor asked mockingly.

Having had enough of Trevor's criticism, Michael silenced him with a punch to the face. "I warned you," he snapped, standing over his friend. The next thing that Michael knew, Trevor had tackled him to the snowy ground, landing a few blows on him.

"I knew I'd have to slap some sense into you," Trevor snarled as he beat him.

Finally, Michael gained the upper hand, continuing to hit his friend. No way would he let him talk about his future wife like that.

"You," he growled, punching him with every word, "should've...kept your...fucking mouth...shut." That was when the rest of the crew finally noticed and pulled him off Trevor, muttering about how there wasn't a day they didn't fight. "Screw you, Trevor," Michael said as he shrugged them off before angrily storming through the piercing cold to go home. At least the bar they'd gone to wasn't too far from his place.

He groaned slightly as he felt blood starting to run down his cheek. His eye was already starting to swell shut, too. Fuck. Leave it to Trevor's big mouth to kill the mood after a successful job, he thought bitterly as he wiped off some blood off with his sleeve. He knew that Trevor would get over it soon enough though, he always loved a good fight. It certainly wasn't the first- probably not the last time either- that him and his psychopathic best friend had come to blows. All he needed to worry about was how to do damage control with Amanda. He knew she was already pretty stressed out with the wedding coming up and the baby and him coming home beaten up wouldn't help. He reached his trailer, sighing slightly before he opened the door.

"Honey, I'm home," Michael announced weakly, shutting the door behind him.

"About time," he heard her mutter, though her tone was relieved. A sharp pang of guilt ran through him. She always waited for him to return after a job, despite his claims that he could take care of himself. With a labored sigh, he leaned against the door. He briefly shut his eyes, trying to chase away the throbbing headache forming and dreading the hangover he'd have in the morning. When Michael opened his eyes, he could tell that Amanda was about to begin the rant she used whenever he was out late after a job without calling her.

Instead of lecturing Michael, she just sighed. Her reckless fiancé had gotten himself into another fight. His handsome face was marred by the dark bruises dotting his cheeks and stubbled jawline, along with a black eye. The right side of his face was covered in blood from a cut that ran across his cheek. His fists were bruised and bloodied from more wounds than she could count. He was absolutely beaten to a pulp yet he gave her a crooked smirk as he leaned against the door. "What happened now?" Amanda asked, the concern in her voice evident.

"Jus' a fight," Michael said, his speech slurred either from the alcohol he'd no doubt had, or from the split lip she hadn't noticed before. Amanda watched as he turned on the sink, the water turning pink as it ran over his swollen and bloody knuckles.

"Over what?" she pressed, joining him by the sink. She waited until he was done before dampening a towel under the water and grabbing the first aid kit. Gently, she took his wrist, being careful to avoid his wounds, and led him over to a chair.

"Stupid shit…" Michael growled, plopping down on the chair and grimacing at the sudden movement. He shrugged off his bloodstained jacket. His shirt rode up slightly at the movement, revealing the black and blue marks dominating his stomach.

"That's what you always say," she forced a weak smile as she pretended not to notice and handed him an ice pack.

He held it to his slightly swollen eye, sighing in relief as the cool ice made contact with his skin. As he stared at her, he noticed the sadness she held in her pale blue eyes. "Fuck...I'm sorry, Amanda…" Michael muttered in a regretful tone.

"For...?" she asked distractedly, focused on cleaning off the smears of blood on his lips.

"I keep puttin' you through this shit," he sighed again, "I know you worry sick and that this is the last thing you want to be doing at three in the fuckin' morning. I'm such an ass-"

She interrupted him with a tender kiss and he forgot about the pain in his lip for a brief moment as he kissed her back with all of the passion his aching body could muster. His hands, still pulsating in pain, entangled themselves in her hair. Pleasure and pain; the only two sensations he thought could feel. Somehow, it wasn't so bad. Eventually, she pulled away, a cute little frown on her face. "Don't say that," she said softly, cupping his bruised cheeks lovingly in her hands. "It's not your fault, okay? Yes, I worry...so much… but I'm not mad or disappointed, or anything. It's pretty much routine for me now, anyways."

"I wish it didn't have to be," Michael sighed, wincing a bit from the pain.

Her eyes became downcast, hoping he wouldn't notice the tears starting to form in them. "It's not your fault," she repeated quietly, bandaging his cheek.

Michael thought about that. Did she mean that it wasn't his fault that his anger got him into a lot of fights or that it wasn't his fault that he turned out to be such a fuck up? He zoned out for a while, drowning in self-pity as Amanda treated his wounds.

Amanda's voice interrupted his train of thoughts. "So how'd it go? And please don't sugarcoat it because it's what you think I want to hear."

"It went fine. Perfect, really. But after…" Michael trailed off, gesturing to his bruised visage.

"Yeah, you really do look like hell, babe," she leaned down, inspecting his beaten appearance once more.

"You should see the other guy," he replied, a smirk crossing his face. He moved forward so that their foreheads were touching. "Tell me something…" he muttered in a low voice.

She decided to play along, hoping that he'd try to lighten the mood. "What?" she responded with a smirk of her own.

"Am I...am I still gonna look pretty after this?" his words dripped with overly concerned sarcasm. He gazed up at her innocently, waiting for her reaction.

"Hmm…" she squinted her eyes and took his chin in her free hand, dramatically turning his face the side as she examined it. Finally, she stood back up to her full height with a triumphant grin. "Thankfully, I think you're gonna be just fine."

He let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Thank fuck for that...I dunno what I'd do without my ruggedly good looks…" he admitted in a relieved tone, earning a genuine laugh from her.

Michael watched Amanda as she cleaned him up. It was still hard to believe that they were getting married soon. He would have never thought he'd ever be in a serious relationship with his lifestyle, much less be in love with someone who loved him right back but here he was, engaged. A small smile formed on his face as he wondered how beautiful girls like her fell for idiotic guys like him.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him teasingly.

"About how much I love you," he replied looking up at her. Cheesy as always, she thought. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking…" she trailed off slightly with a smile of her own, "...that I should have become a nurse if I knew I'd be doing this often."

"Aw, there's still time, babe," Michael said jokingly. "I think you'd look hot in a nurse uniform."

"Nice try," Amanda rolled her eyes playfully as she finished cleaning him up. "Okay, I think that's about it," she said before deciding to try her luck one last time. Of course it wasn't the first fight he'd gotten into in the time they'd been together but something felt off about this one. Usually, he would jump at the opportunity to rant about the trouble he'd gotten into and needed her to calm him down. Not reserved and apologetic like he was now. "You sure you don't want to tell me what happened?"

"Nah, it was stupid. Really," Michael replied. Every time he put her through this, he felt like the biggest asshole. Time after time, she had put up with it. And he hated it. He hated how she had to pay the price for his idiotic mistakes. He really didn't want to tell her what had happened, though he was sure Trevor would probably tell her anyways. His eyes rolled slightly at the thought of his friend.

"Please?" her voice grew soft, serious, eyes staring right through him. It was for him to open up to other people, it frustrated the hell out of her, in fact, so she placed a hand on his arm reassuringly, fingers stroking across the toned muscles. "You can't keep pushing me away like this."

"Damn it, Mandy. You know I can't resist those eyes," he growled in defeat. "Look, some asshole was talking shit about us and it set me off. Like I said, I was being dumb."

She nodded, knowing him well enough to know that it wasn't just "some asshole" but the tone of his voice told her he still was done talking about it. "Alright, tough guy. You should get some sleep, I'll be in there in a bit," she replied. Fingers ran through his matted black hair, her lips gently pressing a kiss to his forehead

"Goodnight, sweetheart," Michael said softly as he stood up, ignoring the pain that shot through his veins, his strong arms encasing her in a hug. He nuzzled her soft, dark hair, basking in the moment. "I love you."

Amanda buried her head into her future husband's chest and held him tightly. He smelled of blood, sweat, and smoke but she didn't care. Beaten and battered as he was, she was just glad that he was safe and would be able to stay home for a while. Her voice shook slightly as she whispered, "Love you too, darlin'."