loser ; michael au ; DISCONTINUED

10+

loser

The next morning, Michael awoke to an empty bed.

He stretched and yawned, scratching his messy hair and throwing the covers off of his legs.

He lazily made his way to the kitchen, drowsy from the good night's sleep he had the night before.

He heard a soft humming noise as he neared the kitchen, and smiled when he spotted Ami dancing to an All Time Low song playing from her phone as she quietly sang along. She wasn't very talented, but Michael paid no attention to that minor detail.

He came up behind her quietly and squeezed her sides, eliciting a surprised squeal.

Ami whipped around in a matter of a second or two and slapped Michael on the arm, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting.

Her hair was flopping in her face and sticking up at odd angles, and her mascara was smudged. She would've looked an utter mess to anyone else, but to Michael, she looked adorable.

"It's not funny," she groaned, walking up to Michael and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face in his chest. She couldn't help but cuddle him every chance she got, he was insanely soft and warm.

"Sorry, babe," Michael chuckled in a raspy tone, making Ami swoon.

She blushed at the pet name then backed away from their embrace. "I made pancakes."

Michael grinned, booping her nose. "They'd better be good, Ames."

She scoffed, pushing his chest lightly. "How dare you be dubious of my capabilities as a cook."

Michael rolled his eyes, pulling out plates from his cabinet and setting them on the counter. "How dare I, indeed."

She giggled and pecked his shoulderblade, having to go up on her tippy toes to reach. "Do you have any butter?"

He blushed at her actions, successfully hiding his pink face from her. "I keep it in the door of the fridge."

She hummed in response and grabbed it, guessing which drawer (a/n: guys i almost spelled drawer as droor pls send help) Michael kept his utensils in.

"It's to the left," Michael butted in.

"I was trying to find it myself!" Ami huffed, grabbing two knives and one fork.

"I felt bad watching you struggle."

Ami narrowed her eyes up at him, "I was doing fine, Mikey."

He giggled at her obvious frustration, taking all of their utensils and pancakes to his ratty-looking kitchen table.

They sat across from each other, smiling giddly for no apparent reason.

"Just eat already, gosh," Ami laughed, picking out a pancake and beginning to spread butter on it.

Michael snapped out of his trance and grabbed two pancakes, buttering them up as soon as Ami was done with the knife.

She began to quietly eat, cutting her food up into tiny pieces and absent-mindedly looking around the kitchen as she chewed.

Michael skipped the use of utensils altogether, picking up the pancake and folding it, eating it like a slice of pizza.

Ami looked over and him and her eyes widened. "What are you doing, dummy?"

"What?" He asked, his speech muffled since his mouth was full.

"Where are your manners?" Ami mocked, smirking at him.