𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧! - 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

「 ✦ In the Studio ✦ 」

You watch as he readjusts his headphones on top of his head and clears his throat. The melody starts to play throughout the room and he begins to let the music overtake his body. His passion and dedication is evident in every note he sings. His curls bounce with each movement, his expression focused yet illuminated by the sheer love for his craft.

While he does so you look around the room and you spot a familiar face: Janet, sitting on the couch along with a few more people, Michael's colleagues you assume. She suddenly catches your eyes and smiles warmly, gesturing for you to come in and make yourself known. Gently pushing the door open, you enter the room with cautious steps, mindful not to disrupt the creative flow. Taking a seat beside Janet, you exchange greetings and exhale softly, allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of the couch.

"I'm surprised Mike didn't tell me you were coming," Janet whispers, her voice tinged with curiosity as she leans in closer to you, her words barely above a whisper in the bustling studio.

A wistful sigh escapes your lips as you gaze across the room at your beloved Michael, his figure immersed in the creative process, unaware of your presence. "I wasn't planning to, I just... needed to see him," you confess, longing evident in your voice as you speak of him.

Janet's expression softens, her hand finding its way to your arm in a gesture of comfort. "I know he's been a little distant lately. He's like that with all of us too. Hasn't even called Mom in a while, she's starting to worry," she confides, her concern mirroring your own.

You nod in understanding, your gaze still fixed on Michael, unable to tear yourself away from him. "You miss him, don't you?" Janet's voice interrupts your reverie. she looks at your outfit, immediately noticing the short skirt you're wearing. You finally take your eyes off Michael and knit your brows in confusion. Before you can respond, she nudges you lightly with her knee, drawing attention to the tantalizing view of your legs. Heat floods your cheeks as you glance down at your exposed thighs.

"Oh- it's, it's not like that" you feel your cheeks heat up as you protest weakly, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt in a futile attempt to cover more skin.

A mischievous glint dances in Janet's eyes as she smirks knowingly. "Oh, spare me the excuses. It's obvious you two haven't fucked in a while," she teases, earning herself a playful swat from you.

"That may be true, but it's not why I'm wearing this, okay?" you retort, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your tone. "It's just a cute skirt," you add, though the words sound feeble even to your own ears.

Janet rolls her eyes in mock exasperation, but the teasing light in her gaze softens into understanding. "Whatever you say," she concedes with a knowing smile, letting the matter drop for now.

With a shake of your head, you try to refocus your attention on Michael. When you turn your head towards the booth you find his deep brown eyes already looking at you. A soft smile curves your lips as you wave at him, feeling a flutter of joy in your chest at the sight of his chuckle in response.

As Michael announces a short break over the microphone, Janet nudges you once more, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. Taking the hint, you rise from your seat, your heart racing with anticipation as you make your way towards the soundproof booth, eager for a moment of intimacy with your beloved husband.

Passing by Quincy on your way, you exchange a polite greeting which he returns automatically before whipping his head back quickly, his surprise evident as he realizes you've managed to slip past him unnoticed.

As you slip into the soundproof booth with Michael, the outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you cocooned in a bubble of intimacy. With a flick of his wrist, he turns off the microphone, ensuring that your conversation remains private. "I've missed you," you whisper and wrap your arms around him, your head snuggling into his chest.