Michaelishious - Vol. 2022

Dec. 1st: Taken by surprise

Author's note:

Michael is not famous in this oneshot.

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"Honey? Have you seen my deodorant?"

I got no reply. As usual, the house was a chaos in the morning before everyone left for school and work. I was always up early to take a shower and make breakfast for everyone, but nobody ever got out of bed in time, didn't want the food I'd prepared, and made a mess in the kitchen when they made something else, or they searched for things that never were where they put them. And that was exactly why I was searching for my deodorant now. Not because I misplaced it somewhere, but someone either knocked it down on the floor or they had borrowed it without putting it back. And I felt pretty sure who that someone was.

"Chelsea? Did you borrow my deodorant?" I shouted down the hall. My daughter was thirteen and just hit puberty with the force of three nuclear catastrophes, and she often borrowed my things. Or borrowed? It usually ended up with me giving it to her. I was fine with it, though. I just appreciated if she told me beforehand, so I didn't waste time searching for something I obviously wouldn't find.

"Chelsea!"

"No, mom! Have you looked in the bathroom?" she yelled back and rushed from the kitchen to her room to get something she'd forgotten.

"Well, duh. I'm in the bathroom now," I mumbled to myself while I picked up wet towels, dirty boxers, a bra, and a t-shirt from the floor. But no deodorant.

"Honey?" I called out, trying to get my husband's attention. He came in seconds after, trying to fix his tie and button his shirt simultaneously. It didn't work very well, so naturally, I helped him.

"Thank you, Amanda. I'll be back around six," he murmured and gave me a little kiss. I reached out to remove a crumb from his three-day beard and smiled at him. It made him look hot.

"Tikka Masala today?" I asked, and he thought for a moment and nodded.

"Sounds great. But I really need to go now. Love you."

"Love you too," I said to his back when he hurried out of the house to his car. Then my mind went to the rest of the kids.

"Ollie? Are you ready?" I asked my youngest son. He was seven and a bit of a smartass. He'd ended up in trouble more times than I could count, but I still loved him unconditionally.

"Almost!" he replied and ran off to his room.

"Chelsea?"

I heard an annoyed groan behind me as I entered the kitchen.

"If I had a dollar every time you yelled my name..."

"If I had a dollar every time you don't listen and I have to yell your name," I snapped back, although with a hint of humor. I earned an eye-roll in return.

"Where's Michael?" I asked when I didn't see him. He was my husband's twenty-five-year-old son from a previous marriage, and he was only living here part time. He'd dragged himself through college and swore that he'd never set his foot in a school yard again. Instead, he traveled around with his band, The Jacksons, all across America.

Since he only was home about half the year, we'd told him it was a waste of money to rent an apartment and instead save money to buy his own place later. He didn't exactly mind. He was a nice young man who often paid for groceries and other things when needed, and he helped around the house... Well, only when I'd been nagging for a while, but he did do his fair share, anyway.