Holding Time
Michael couldn't sleep. After hours of lying in bed he finally gave up, swinging his legs to the floor with an exasperated sigh. As he made his way down stairs he noticed someone in the living room. "Maeby?" he whispered, squinting from the light.
"Hi, uncle Michael," replied his niece. She was huddled on the couch with a manuscript and a flashlight, "I couldn't sleep."
"Me neither," He said, reaching into the fridge to grab a water bottle, "You should go to bed though. I know it's not a school night but it's still really late." Maeby had learned through experience with her parents that this suggestion was best ignored. She simply turned back to her papers. Michael sat down beside her and leaned over to see what she was reading.
"It's just a school assignment," she said defensively, putting the script down on the coffee table, "Why couldn't you sleep?"
"I don't know," Michael said, "Sometimes things just catch up with you and you realise what your life is."
"You mean you feel doomed to manage this family of lunatics?" Maeby smirked.
"I guess so," Michael said lazily, slumping back into the sofa, "In many ways you and I are the most mature people in this family...the most sane. Or at least it often seems that way."
"You know, part of me just wants to sleep here tonight," Maeby mumbled.
"Me too. My room is so lonely; I'm not used to it. After his mother died, George Michael and I shared the attic so it's been along time since I've slept alone…and it's comfortable here."
Maeby smiled and lay her head on her uncle's shoulder. He wrapped a protective arm around her, snuggling close. Michael wasn't quite sure how he felt about Maeby. He used to think she was like a daughter to him, but no, that wasn't right. The feelings he had for her were completely different from those he had for George-Michael. He slowly grew aware that she was studying him, her face peering up, delicate and quizzical. "What are you thinking?" she asked, head tilted, hair in eyes, mouth slightly parted.
"Nothing," Michael laughed softly, "Why?" They sat like that for a long moment, just watching each other, holding time still with their eyes. Michael didn't want to look away, knowing that if he did this moment would end. In this in-between time anything was possible; if no one did anything, anything could be done. The silence finally made Michael realise how he wanted Maeby and he could feel her body against him, wanting him back.
The calm way she moved up to kiss him was almost frightening. Desperately trying not to think, he reached his head down to meet her. Maeby trembled as he scraped his lips against hers and dipped his tongue between them. Brushing roughly against the cotton of his pyjamas, she twisted to place a hand on his chest. Michael pulled her closer, his hands memorizing the curve of her hips, the shape of her back. His stubbly cheek grazed hers as his tongue traced the contours of her lips. Michael slowly leaned away from her kiss, taking her head in his hands. "Maeby," he whispered sadly. There was everything to say yet no way to say it. So many secrets lay between them.
"Maybe not," she sighed and placed a cold hand on his.