Author: Samiam
Category: Mi/I. Isabel POV
Summary: Can't think of one
Rating: R. Maybe vague NC17. This one's a little more naughty..
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. If the characters were, it'd be
a whole different show.
Spoilers: Basic season two spoilers, specifically Viva Las Vegas. And
the last six episodes of season two and all of season three (so far)
didn't happen. I got the idea for this from a false spoiler. Guess
they can be good for something after all.
Note: Yeah, the title is from the Ricky Martin/Christina Aguilera
song. Does the song have anything to do with the story? Nope. Just
liked the title.

It started because Michael was crying.

As bad as he had it with Hank, I never saw him cry. He got angry and upset and I'd see sadness and hurt on his face, but never tears. And I was glad for that because as awful as it was to see all those things on his face, seeing him cry would have completely broken my heart.

Ironic that it was someone he loved who finally brought him to tears.

I was home alone. Max had gone somewhere with Tess and my parents were at a party. I was getting ready to read trashy magazines and give myself a pedicure when the doorbell rang. I opened it and he was on the front porch, looking more miserable than I'd seen him in ages. "Michael, what's wrong?" I asked, alarmed.

He looked at the porch floor, then up at me. Even in the dim light I could see the hurt in his eyes. "Maria broke up with me."

I brought him in the house. He let me lead him to the sofa and sit him down. I sat down next to him. I didn't know what to say, so I just listened. "Payback's a bitch, Izzy. When I broke up with her last year, I was trying to do the right thing. Spare the both of us a lot of heartbreak. But she wouldn't let go, and she kept after me and after me and before I knew it, we were spending time together again and everything I felt for her started coming back. She let me fall in love with her again. Then tonight, she just threw my argument from last spring right back at me: I'm an alien; she's a human. And since we're probably going to be going back to our planet someday, she wants to break up now before it hurts too much." He was quiet for a moment, then added, "I don't think it could hurt much more than this."

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to touch him, to reassure him and let him know that I understood how he felt. I didn't want him to hurt alone. But Michael never lets himself be comforted. He doesn't want people to know he's vulnerable. I looked at him as he sat on my sofa, staring down at the floor, and I reached out tentatively, touching
him on the shoulder. He sighed shakily, looking up at me. His eyes were so full of pain. Then a tear spilled over the edge, sliding down his cheek. He reached up and wiped it away impatiently, but he couldn't stop them and as they continued to stream down his face he buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

As his body shook under my hand, I immediately moved closer, taking him in my arms. He resisted at first, but I gently reached down and rubbed his back and he gave in, burying his face against my shoulder. His hands clutched at my back as he cried. I could feel hot tears soaking my t-shirt. I held him and rocked him slightly and rubbed his
back, trying to comfort him. But he kept on crying. I wanted to track down Maria and give her hell for hurting Michael this way, but I had the feeling she was probably crying her eyes out too. Good. I hoped she was suffering like he was.

Michael lifted his head from my shoulder and looked up at me. Tears were still sliding down his face and my heart broke at the sight. "It'll be okay, Michael," I whispered, smoothing my hand across his cheek to wipe the tears away. I leaned down and kissed the top of his head, then his forehead. "I promise. It will stop hurting, and she'll realize how stupid she was to let you go. It's her loss, Michael. Remember that." I kissed his cheek. His tear-soaked cheek. Damn her. His body relaxed a bit, so I kissed his cheek again. I could taste salt on my lips. The kisses seemed to soothe him, so I cupped his face in my hands and lifted it up, gently planting kisses across his skin. His hands loosened their death grip on my t-shirt and his eyes softened slightly with each touch of my lips. I'd never really kissed Michael beyond the occasional peck on the cheek, and I was amazed at how natural it felt. It had been so long since I'd kissed someone I'd cared about that I'd forgotten how good it feels. How nice it was to be with someone I cared about, that cared about me.

Then my lips brushed his.

I didn't intend to do it. I'd planned on another cheek kiss, but he moved his head and our lips met. I ended up kissing him softly. I could see his eyes widen in surprise, and as I pulled back, I didn't know what to do.

Then he grabbed me, kissing me roughly. Hard. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and his hands wrapped themselves in my hair. I was too stunned to react at first, but my body responded before my brain and before I could stop myself, I was kissing him back. I knew why we were kissing; he was upset and hurt over Maria and needed comfort, and it just felt so good to have someone kiss me that I didn't want to stop him. I couldn't think about what he meant to me. We made out on the couch until he started tugging at my clothes, untucking and
unbuttoning and sliding his hands underneath them. I couldn't believe that this was actually happening. That Michael was pushing my shirt up and stroking my bare back. That Michael was unzipping my jeans and kissing my stomach. It tickled a little, but it was sending bolts of electricity through my body. It was the furthest I'd ever gone with a guy, and I never thought I'd be doing these things with Michael. Ever. His hands slid under the waistband of my jeans and over the small of my back, caressing the skin there, and through the fog of lust in my brain I realized we needed more privacy; I would die if Max or my parents came home and found us. He moved up my body, kissing my lips again, then I pulled him to his feet and, still kissing, we went upstairs to my room. And there, in my bed, we had sex.

It wasn't so great.

Don't get me wrong; it wasn't totally awful. But it was kind of rushed and uncomfortable and while we were doing it I looked up at Michael and thought to myself, `This is it?'. And afterwards, it was weird. It wasn't weird during, but it caught up to us when it was over and we were laying there, Michael still on top of me, pressing me into the mattress. Neither one of us said anything for a few minutes, I don't think we knew what to say, and then finally he
said, "I should go before your parents get home."

"Okay," I said. He kissed my forehead awkwardly and got up, gathering his clothes and going into the bathroom. I rolled over, resting my cheek against a pillow. What had we done? I hoped we hadn't ruined our friendship because we were hurting and lonely and needed to feel loved. Michael and I hadn't been as close recently, but he was still
one of my best friends and I needed him. I didn't want this to mess us up.

When he came out of the bathroom he stood by my bed. "I'll talk to you later, Iz?"

"All right," I replied, wrapping the sheets tighter around me.

He started to leave, then turned back, reaching down to stroke my hair. "Bye," he said softly. "Thanks for listening."

I closed my eyes, enjoying his touch. It was sweet and gentle; the way Michael had always touched me. It felt familiar, loving. I didn't realize how much I missed his touches until they'd stopped. "You're welcome."

Then he left.

It took me a long time to fall asleep that night, but when I finally drifted off I thought that was the end of it. It was a one-time thing.

I was wrong.

I thought it was a dream at first. A hand, lightly running across my cheek, sliding to my hair. It felt good. Fingertips softly caressed my neck, then a voice whispered my name. "Izzy?" A gentle kiss on my cheek. I felt myself waking up more as the hand returned, brushing my hair away from my neck. Another soft kiss, this one on the side of my mouth. It felt so nice that I didn't want to open my eyes. I reluctantly opened them to find out I wasn't dreaming: Michael was sitting on the side of my bed.

I was shocked. In the three days since we'd slept together, Michael and I hadn't really talked about it. When I saw him at school the next morning it was a little strange, but we said hi to each other and he asked me if I was okay. I told him yes, and asked if he was feeling better about Maria and he said he was. Then the bell rang. We
hadn't had any deep discussions about what we'd done, but that was fine. We'd had comfort sex, plain and simple. No need to analyze it further.

Michael moved closer. "Izzy? You awake?" he asked, leaning down to kiss my cheek again. More face stroking. He kissed my lips softly, so different than the kisses from the other night. He maneuvered his body on to the bed so he was lying next to me, kissing me again. His hand wandered over to my waist, rubbing gently through the blanket. He nuzzled the side of my neck, whispering, "Can I stay, Iz?"

I was trying not to melt. I'd never had anyone kiss me awake before and it was just so adorable. But I knew I should put a stop to it. He wasn't doing this out of love for me. He was hurting from Maria and wanted comfort. I knew I should have been angry, but I wasn't. I knew those feelings all too well. Wanting to feel close to someone and feel loved. That's why I'd thought I could go off with that guy Dave in Vegas. Even though I didn't know him, he wanted me and that would have been enough. It can kind of override your common sense. It had already happened to Michael and me once. It felt so good to have him kiss me and touch me and want to be with me, and that overruled all the other protests my mind was trying to make. I moved closer to him and kissed him back. He got under the covers with me and we began kissing like crazy and pulling at each other's clothing. Afterwards, we laid together, skin to skin, our legs entangled. I rested my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat. I should have turned him away. I should have pulled away and made him leave. I should have said no. This was supposed to be wrong, wasn't it? You don't have sex with your friends. You're only supposed to have sex with someone you're in love with. But I was lonely. He was hurting. And while we were together the loneliness and hurt disappeared. I knew Michael was safe. He would never hurt me. He cared about me. Maybe this could work. We could just be friends that had sex. Maybe that would be enough. I certainly wasn't having any luck with normal relationships.

Before I knew it, he was coming over a couple of times a week. I never knew when, it's not like we talked about it beforehand. It was always in the middle of the night; I'd wake up to him kissing me and touching me, and I'd pull back the covers and he'd slide underneath them. Sliding on top of me, into my body. His skin was soft as I brushed my lips against it and ran my hands over his back and shoulders. I found out his neck was ticklish and that he liked it when I kissed his chest and stomach and that his legs were more muscular than I ever would have guessed from seeing him in his baggy pants.

But that was only at night. During the day, at school, at the Crashdown, with Max and Tess, we were just Michael and Isabel. Friends. I tried to remember that as I sat with him and Max at lunch and remembered hours earlier. My legs wrapped around Michael's waist, my fingers digging into his shoulders. His mouth on my breasts and his hands gripping my hips as we moved together in my bed. Our other life. We'd been able to keep them separate. It wasn't like being in love; I didn't want to scribble his name all over my notebooks or count the minutes until we saw each other again. I liked what we had. It was nice to be physically close to someone again. I didn't know how much I missed kisses and being held and touched. And I loved feeling connected to Michael. I'd missed that. We'd always been close, but it was getting stronger. We knew a side of each other that no one else did, and it made me feel special that he shared that part of himself with me. Michael made me feel wanted, and after everything I'd gone through this past year with Vilandra and the Skins and Grant, I needed that. The emptiness and loneliness that had pretty much been my life for the past few months disappeared when we were in bed together. It was nice to feel alive for a change. It was nice to have him need me. I didn't realize how much I'd missed him these past few months until this happened and I liked having him back in my life. I couldn't lose him again.

Then he broke our routine. Came over one Saturday afternoon. I was stunned when I opened the front door and saw him there. He didn't even bother with words, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me to him. He kissed me passionately, backing me against the wall and grinding his hips against mine. I didn't know what brought it on; we'd just been together two nights before. As soon as the surprise wore off I flailed my arm out, shutting the front door, then wound my arms around his neck. He grasped my hips, lifting me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. We kissed hungrily the entire way to my room, pulling at each other's clothing to touch the skin underneath. We were so eager that we didn't even make it under the bedcovers. It was wild and passionate and I knew I was going to be sore afterwards but I didn't care, and I dug my fingernails into his shoulders and tightened my legs around him, pulling him closer.

Afterwards, we lay together quietly, catching our breath, finally having made our way under the covers. After a few minutes, Michael moved to get up. Without even thinking I tightened my arms around his back, holding him to me. "Not yet," I whispered. I didn't want him to go so soon. At night we never had time to just hold each other afterwards; I wanted that. To feel his arms around me and his breath on my neck and to enjoy the closeness that we never got to savor in the dark.

Michael looked at me curiously. "You want me to stay?"

"Everyone will be gone for the afternoon. For once you don't have to rush out before someone wakes up. Come here." I pulled him back down and he rested his head against my shoulder. Then a thought hit me. "Unless you want to leave?"

He shook his head, his hair brushing against my skin. "No. I always feel bad when I have to hurry out of here. This is nice." He snuggled closer. We were quiet for a moment, then he said, "Izzy?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you let me come back?"

I hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

"The first night, when I came to your room. I was totally expecting you to boot me out. I was thinking, `There's no way Izzy's gonna go for this. She's gonna kill me'. I felt like such a dog. But I was at my place, feeling totally miserable, and I remembered how you held me when I was crying, and how it made me feel better, and the next thing I knew I was watching you sleep, wondering what would happen if I woke you up. When I was kissing you I was thinking to myself, `Get your ass outta here, man. What kind of a friend are you?' But you kissed me back and let me get in bed with you and I was like, `She's not kicking me out?' And you never have. Not once. How come you didn't?"

I wasn't sure what to say. I decided to be honest with him. "Because I'd missed you for so long, and it was nice to be close to you again. I knew why you were here, but I didn't care. You were here and you wanted me and it's been so long since anyone did. Or at least since anyone that cared about me did. I wanted you to stay."

Michael lifted his head to look at me. "Izzy….." he said sadly.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me. I don't regret it, Michael. Not once. If I didn't want to do something, I'd let you know. You know that."

A wistful smile slid across his face. "Yeah. I think I still have the claw marks in my arm from when we were kids to prove it," he replied. He paused for a moment, then said, "I don't think about Maria, Izzy. It might have been why it happened at first, but when we're…you know, it's you and me. How we feel about each other and caring about each other. It's not about her. I just wanted you to know that."

Michael's not a guy who talks about his feelings; I think I can count on one hand the number of times he's really confided in me. But when he does, it's like my heart opens up and all this love I didn't know I had for him just pours out and envelops my body. It's so hard for him to trust people that every time he lets himself trust me with his
thoughts and emotions, it makes me so happy. To be one of the few people in this world that Michael Guerin can trust….it's a wonderful feeling. I reached out and touched his cheek. "Thank you."

He turned his head to kiss my hand, then rested his head against my shoulder again. "I missed you too, Izzy," he said softly. "And I like being close to you like this. But if you ever don't want to.…I'll understand. I'll miss it; I'll miss being close to you and touching you and, you know, everything. But it won't change us. I don't want you to think that you have to have sex with me so we'll be close. You've got me, no matter what."

I stroked his hair, relieved. I'd really needed to hear that. I couldn't lose Michael again. He was too important and meant too much to me. I was glad to know that I meant that much to him, too, no matter what our relationship became. "Like I said, I wouldn't unless I wanted to. And I want to. I like being close to you, too. So don't
worry about it. I want this."

"Me too." He smiled, then yawned. "So sleepy, Iz," he said drowsily. "Can I….? Please? Feels so nice." He cuddled close to me, his arm draping lazily across my waist.

How could I resist? I'd have to keep an ear out for Max and my parents, but I wanted to hold Michael while he slept. We never got to do that. "Go ahead," I told him, softly rubbing his back. His eyes drifted shut. "Michael?"

"Yeah?" he asked sleepily.

"I'm glad you told me that. I mean, I more or less knew deep down, but there was a little part of me that wondered. Now I don't have to wonder anymore."

His eyes opened. I could tell he was barely awake, but he smiled blearily, lifting his head up and kissing me tenderly. So sweetly. So gently. "You don't ever have to wonder about how much you mean to me, Iz. Ever. That's a promise."

And Michael always keeps his promises.

~ End