Sorry it's been so long since an upload! I am finally back though and have a few new chapters for this story (plus a new multichapter that should be starting within the next few weeks ;) Before I give too much away about that: this chapter has some relationship advice leading to a little something more...
Franklin sighed as he pulled up to the De Santa house. Well, the house of one of them, at least…he quickly corrected himself as he remembered that Michael's family had left him all alone a while ago. He knew that the man wasn't in a great state emotionally because of that and his kidnapping by the Chinese a few days earlier, so he'd asked him to hang out for a bit. At this point, he didn't really trust Michael to be alone. Then there were still Michael's issues with Trevor. He didn't know what Michael did, but he figured it had to do with the whole Brad situation that still hadn't been explained to him.
"Maybe I can ask him if he knows about my money from punk ass Devin Weston…" he muttered angrily under his breath. He sent a quick text to Michael to let him know he was outside. About a minute later, Michael exited his house, looking exhausted as usual. Franklin immediately knew that the topic of money wasn't going to be discussed by the look on his face.
"Hey, kid," Michael said, getting into the car.
"How you doin'?" Franklin asked concernedly.
"I'm okay. Everything's been healing since the, uh, incident." Michael looked at himself in the rearview mirror, gazing at the cuts and bruises on his face.
"I mean you, mentally," Franklin elaborated.
The older thief sighed. "Don't get married," Michael immediately replied, his voice halfway between bitterness and sadness.
"Well, that's still some ways down the road for me," Franklin said with a chuckle.
"Good. Just…never get married too young, like I did. When I got married, I was even younger than you. I mean, I met Amanda in a str-" Michael hesitated for a moment before continuing. "A bar. She was smoking hot and she liked me, of all guys. I mean, I really don't blame her because I was quite the stud back in the day, but now that's all I feel our relationship was. Our physical chemistry."
"Damn, this is depressing ass shit…" the young thief muttered, starting to drive towards the nearest bar.
"The point is, Franklin," Michael continued despite the interruption, "that the foundation of a relationship can't just be built on your attraction to each other. I made this arrangement with the FIB when we came to Los Santos, so we pretty much had no choice but to stay together. And now look at us," he said resentfully. "She can't stand me, my kids don't respect me...and now they've been gone for months."
"I know that I don't know everything about your relationship, dog, but I do think there's more than that to your relationship with her. Otherwise, you guys would have killed each other years ago and besides, she's stayed with your crazy ass through all the years," Franklin laughed a little which earned a glare from Michael. "Do you still love her?"
"Well, yeah, of course I do-" Michael hastily started before getting interrupted by his prodigy.
"And when's the last time you told her that?" Franklin pressed the question.
"Shit, I don't know," Michael confessed, putting his head in his hands. "...I don't show it well, none of us do, but there's more than that…it's complicated and…" he trailed off as he wondered where he went so wrong in his life.
"Man, you're one of the smartest people I know, but sometimes you just can't take a hint," Franklin sighed. "Why do you think she had the affairs?"
"Because she hates me?" Michael raised his head, laughing dryly.
"Well, maybe a little, but sometimes you forget you did cheat first," Franklin reminded him, pulling into the parking lot of the bar.
"Yeah, yeah…can we just go inside and get drunk? I don't want to think about my mistakes tonight. I do enough of that shit on my own," Michael said, shutting his eyes and looking regretful.
"Anyways, I know that doesn't make it right but maybe she wanted you to pay attention to her instead of feelin' sorry for yourself," Franklin suggested with a shrug. "From what I saw, you weren't doing the best job at that yourself."
"Shit, kid, you should be mentoring me, you're better than my worthless therapist," Michael remarked, surprised by Franklin's wisdom. "I...I know you're right. Things were alright before I screwed that stripper," he admitted. "I just think that...that it's just too late for us, that our relationship is too...broken now."
"There's only one way to find out, right?" Franklin asked.
"Yeah..." Michael said distractedly, looking at his wedding ring, which he hadn't been able to bring himself to take off since she'd left. "Actually, can you drop me off at home? I think I have some work to do."
Franklin smiled, starting up the car again. "I think you do too."
"Thanks, kid. For...everything," Michael said when Franklin dropped him back off at his house.
"No problem, if it means you won't be so damn depressed all the time. Hope it works out for you, man," Franklin chuckled, driving off
"Me too…" Michael muttered under his breath, pulling his phone out of his pocket, and sitting on the steps. No, Amanda probably wouldn't answer... she hadn't answered any of his other calls so far. He just hoped that she'd listen to this message.
As Michael expected, it went to voicemail. He cleared his throat awkwardly, preparing himself for whatever dumb shit he'd no doubt say.
"Hey Amanda...it's me, your husband…" he started, almost laughing at the last part of the sentence. "I really hope that you get this... I know you probably hate me, I really wouldn't blame you if you did," he said with a bitter laugh. "Look, I..ah, I know I'm an asshole and that you deserve way better than me, but...I just want you to give me one last chance to show you that I'm changing, that this whole time you've been away, I've been hating myself because of the way I treated you," his voice grew soft, regretful at that. "I never wanted you to leave, I can't even say how much I miss you, the kids. No matter how much I don't act like it, I love you, I always have. Ugh, I guess I just wanted to say...I...I'm sorry," he finally managed to stutter out just before the machine cut him off and he hesitantly pressed send.
"Time to wait," Michael sighed as he got up and went back into his empty house.
A week went by and Michael still hadn't heard anything from Amanda. He began to think that she either ignored his voicemail like all the other ones or she did hear it and just didn't have any hope for their relationship. Both options were bad, he thought. But if the second option was true, he knew it would just destroy him, living with the guilt and self-hatred that he'd experienced every moment since his family had been gone, except knowing that the feeling would be permanent.
"You're overthinking this, you old fucker," he muttered to himself, getting up from the couch to get some whiskey, ignoring the pain of his healing injuries. Michael made it about halfway to the kitchen before he heard the doorbell ring. He wondered if it was one of his many enemies here to finally finish the job. On his way to the door, a list of them ran through his mind. Merryweather, the FIB, the IAA, the Chinese, hell, even Trevor…
Michael opened the door not to a firing squad but the last person he expected. Amanda. His wife...the girl he fell in love with years ago...the girl he was still in love with. A million things he wanted to say rushed through his head but he didn't have time to even open his mouth before Amanda wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
"I'm sorry, too," she said quietly when they pulled away. After seeing the confusion on Michael's face, she cracked a sad smile. "I listened to all of your messages, you know."
"So, do you believe me? That I'm changing this time?" Michael asked, his heart starting to thud from her touch.
"I do," Amanda said, pulling him in for another kiss.
She jumped into his arms as she kissed him. He stumbled back in shock before lifting her up, barely sparing enough time to shut the door behind him before his hands flew back to her legs, which were wrapped around his waist. Her touch grounded him, allowing himself to forget the past, all of their problems for just a minute, only focusing on the way her lips pressed against his, the way her hands threaded through his hair.
Amanda broke the kiss first, sending him crashing back to reality and feeling the tension of their relationship weighing him down again. At least, he was until he noticed the way her blue eyes wandered purposely up the stairs, no doubt to where their bedroom was. That was all he needed. Michael felt a smirk work its way across his face, lips finding the side of her neck as he carried her up the stairs. She tilted her head in response, allowing his kisses to travel along the expanse of her neck while whispering about how much she missed him in his ear.
By the time he finally reached their bedroom, he almost couldn't take the sensations overwhelming him. A nip at her neck caused a sharp moan that had almost sent him over the edge. The force he opened the door with could have broken it if he hadn't been more careful. His lips immediately moved back up to hers in a hurried frenzy, a shiver running through him as her teeth bit down on his lip, the pleasure barely outweighing the pain. He eased her onto the bed, hands roaming along her body as she straddled him, her fingers already starting to unbutton his shirt. A sharp wince suddenly crossed his face as her weight settled against his. "God damn it..." he hissed as he pulled back from the kiss.
A puzzled look crossed Amanda's face. "What's wrong…?" she started, trailing off as she noticed the fading bruises on his face for the first time. Her hand slid under his shirt, feeling him tense up as she touched the hot bruises on his skin. As if to confirm her suspicions, she finished undoing the buttons, eyes wide in horror as she saw the half-healed marks that still covered his ribcage, the stab wounds that lined his chest and sides. Her expression was something between anger and sadness. "I need you to tell me how this happened," she demanded shakily, fingers resting lightly against a cut on his chest.
"It was just a fight," Michael effortlessly muttered the lie under his breath, not really having the energy or really even wanting to explain the torture he'd been through over a week ago. The look on her face told him she didn't believe him for a second. "I'll be fine, Amanda."
"You think that this is fine?" she asked angrily, the worry and concern in her eyes evident. "God, Michael…"
"I've been through worse. It's nothing that won't heal," he insisted in a low voice.
She muttered something inaudible under her breath, though he did catch the words, "Stupid, stubborn bastard,"before she pulled him into a kiss, one hand going up the back of his neck, the other raking through his hair. He melted into the kiss, hands resting at her sides before impatiently tugging at her shirt. A crooked smirk crossed her face as she broke the kiss to lift it over her head. She shoved him back onto the bed playfully, her smile fading as she heard his sharp intake of breath turn into a pained groan.
"Fuck…" she sighed as she sat up abruptly. Grimacing, he leaned up against the headboard, eyes staring helplessly into hers as she ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "It shouldn't have been like this…it shouldn't have taken us a near divorce and you almost dying to get back together," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.
He leaned forward, lips gently brushing against hers. "I know, darlin'..." he murmured, his thumb wiping away the tears. "God, I know…" Sighing, Michael pressed a light kiss against her forehead. She tilted her head up, allowing him access to her lips. They kissed slowly and carefully, as if the slightest movement would cause him more pain. "Things will be different this time," he said when they pulled apart for air.
"That's gonna take a while, isn't it?" she smiled sadly, resting her hands on his shoulders and biting her lip as her fingers accidently ran over a wound on his back.
"Never said it'd be easy," he replied with a smirk of his own as he pulled her down for a kiss. In all of the ways he'd expected the day they reunited to go, he never thought they'd be going this slow. Then again, he hadn't expected he'd be recovering from almost being beaten to death. He thought he'd feel like the young idiot he was when he met her, drowning in lust and desire. They hadn't been together in so long and he thought he would have taken full advantage of that, instead of uselessly lying there in pain.
Slowly, the kisses got more intense. Hands started to wander, lips started to wander. Eventually, much to his dismay, she pulled away, panting, and sat up.
Michael frowned and looked up at her. "What are you doing?"
"Believe it or not, I can't take these off while I'm sitting on top of you," Amanda said teasingly as she slowly took her pants off.
His eyebrows immediately shot up as she tossed them aside to the floor, revealing the lacy red underwear she was wearing. "Present for me?" he asked, obviously trying to lighten the mood as his fingers toyed with the straps of the matching bra, slight shakiness of his hand betraying his confident voice.
"Maaaybe…" she drawled out in a singsong voice, going along with his lightheartedness. "If you're still up to it, of course."
"I'm sore, 'Mand, not paralyzed," he reminded her before undoing his belt, adding it to the ever-growing pile of clothes. Despite his protests, he allowed her to take off his own pants; partly because he didn't feel like disentangling from her, mostly because he knew it'd hurt and-stubborn as he was-didn't want to admit it to her.
"Well…" Amanda started, looking down at him with a predatory grin that only faltered when she caught sight of his injuries, "this is a role reversal, huh?"
"Very funny," he rolled his eyes, unwilling to indulge her power trip. "Y'know, if I was feelin' better, we'd be done by now."
"Ah, where's the fun in that?" she asked, leaning down and kissing him. Her facade of playful confidence dropped again, just for a second, as she kissed him sweetly and slowly. Michael quickly grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it in silent reassurance and encouragement. And just like that, it was back up. The gentle, chaste kisses quickly turned into heated, passionate ones as his hands moved up to rest on her hips while hers found themselves buried in his soft, dark hair.
She kissed him and he kissed her. It was so normal, so routine for them after all this time, but there was something different behind this kiss. It was a longing, desperate thing that they could only describe as both of them asking, no, begging for forgiveness from each other.
They kissed like that for ages seemingly, only stopping for brief moments when he needed to catch his breath. "I missed you so much," he breathed out during one of those times.
"I missed you, too," she replied with a smile, breath warm against the lips that were only centimeters away from hers.
With that, he finally had enough energy, or maybe enough confidence, to hesitantly move his hands up to her underwear. She just nodded and took his hands in hers, leading him to tug them off her legs. Once that was finished, her fingers moved down to the opening of his boxers before he bit his lip slightly and said, "Hey, uh, just go easy on me, okay?"
Amanda lightly pressed a kiss against his lips, positioning herself on top of him and whispering "I'll make you feel better, Michael."
All of their doubts, worries, and insecurities quickly faded away as they fell into their familiar rhythm that they'd perfected throughout the years, even though it was a little slower and more languid this time. Michael's hands traveled across her body, as if he couldn't decide on where to touch her and he groaned, muffled by her mouth still pressing kisses against his, as her hips swirled against his.
Her lips lazily moved off of his mouth and she pressed delicate kisses against the fading bruises on his face, making him feel like the injuries weren't even there anymore. One of her hands twisted into the bedsheets, the other stroking his cheek as they continued their leisurely pace.
After a while, she began growing impatient. She could tell that he was already feeling better, by the way he started to set the pace: not quite enough to send her over, but just enough to keep her on the edge. "Michael…" she moaned accusatorily. "I'm glad that we're here together and that you're feeling better, but-ah…"
"But what?" he looked up at her with a grin, voice innocent aside from the slight shakiness of it.
"But this part of you hasn't changed and you are still the same damn tease…" she managed to get out, finding it increasingly harder to keep her voice steady, or even speak at all.
"Hey, I said I'd change all the bad things about me, babe," he said playfully, ignoring the small moan that slipped out of his own mouth as she leaned forward, taking all of him in. "And you know what to say."
She glared at him for a second, but it soon became too much to bear. "Please, Michael."
It worked, just as it always did, and before long, they had both finished and she had collapsed next to him on the bed. Both of them had to take a long moment to catch their breath before she turned over to face him.
Amanda stared at him through half-lidded lashes with a tired, content smile before suddenly moving closer to him and kissing him lightly. "Me and the kids are coming home first thing tomorrow. After today, I know we can still make this work, Michael," she whispered, one of her hands reaching over and grabbing his.
For the first time in months, a genuine smile crossed his face. "Ah, thank God…I've missed you guys so much," Michael murmured in relief. "So, what do we do now?"
Her eyes moved between the injuries on his body and the mess that they had made, a slight frown on her face. "Now I think we should shower. You'll feel a lot better after you do," she added the second part after he started to protest.
"Alright, just, ah, give me a second," he said before moving closer to her and pressing his damp forehead against hers, letting out a sigh of happiness.
"What are you doing?" she asked, amusement creeping into her voice.
"Jus' wanna take it all in and make sure this day isn't some dream," he breathed out.
She quickly gave him another kiss before he could say anything else. It was short, but the intensity and passion of it was still undeniable. "Does that convince you?"
"Oh, yeah," he smirked, staring back at her for a long moment and admiring everything about her: the way her hair was still all messy, the way her eyes looked back into his with a love he hadn't seen in a long time. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Hey...I, ah... I love you."
She tightened her grip on his hand, one of her fingers sweeping back and forth across his wedding ring as she said, "I love you, too."
