Fiona hated silence. She loved loud noises: loud music, yelling, screaming, gun shots, explosions, whatever. She couldn't deal with silence. It made her uncomfortable, edgy. And it also just annoyed the hell out of her.
"There was never anything between me and Cameron, Michael," she finally said quietly as Michael drove them back to her house. There was a small huff of breath.
"I didn't ask," Michael replied. Fiona looked over to him to see his eyes were fixed stubbornly on the road. She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.
"Pull over," she demanded suddenly. Michael shot a confused frown her way.
"What?" he asked. Fiona met his eyes steadily, letting him know she wasn't messing around.
"Pull over."
Michael continued to stare at her blankly for a second before turning his attention back to the road and carefully pulling over to the shoulder. Fiona quickly undid her seatbelt and flipped over to sit on Michael's lap, her lips claiming him fiercely. She felt Michael recoil in surprise before relaxing and allowing her to attack him, gently wrapping his arms around her to pull her in closer. Fiona willingly obliged, never breaking from the rough kiss. She needed him to understand, to know that she needed that. She needed him to realize just how much she needed all this. She needed him.
Finally, she backed off slightly, slowly sucking Michael's bottom lip into her mouth. Letting go, she stared him hard in the eyes, searching for any sign that he had understood the message she had been trying to convey. She saw mostly surprise, something that could've been understanding, some questions, but mostly what hit her was the slight touch of fear she saw. She sighed, pressing her face into the nape of his neck.
"Michael..." she whispered into in neck. He shuddered as her breath sent goose bumps down his spine.
"Yeah, Fi?"
"Cameron's an idiot, all right?" she said, forcing herself to sit up and speak normally. "The only reason he's stayed alive all this time is because he has good friends. Which made him a good friend to have." She met Michael's eyes again, pleading with him silently to drop it and be who she needed him to be again. She didn't understand why she needed him so badly right now, but she did. She wasn't going to question it yet.
After a few too many long moments, Michael nodded slowly and moved his hand up her back to pull her in again for another kiss. Fiona complied until his hand reached her neck, brushing against the stitches. She hissed at the touch and pushed herself off of Michael, rubbing her neck. Michael stared at her.
"I thought you said that didn't hurt," he complained, obvious concern in his tone. Fiona shook her head, refusing to look at him.
"It doesn't," she agreed. "I... I don't know why I did that."
She could feel Michael continue to stare at her. It was almost worse than the previous silence. She let her hand drop from her neck, staring stubbornly out the window in front of her.
"Let's go home."
A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!