The Outcasts - (M+M AU) (Teen) 1/1 COMPLETE
Posted: Mon Apr 10, 2006 3:06 pm
The Outcasts
By April
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did.
Category: Michael and Maria AU (Maria’s POV)
Rating: PG-13ish
Author’s Note: I have been so absent from the fanfiction community for such a long time, it's not even funny. Here's just a little something I wrote awhile ago. Gotta love that candy. Sexy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael and I started sleeping together when I was fourteen. I think he had just turned fifteen and I was going to turn fifteen in a few weeks. I can’t quite remember for sure, but the point is that we were young. We were both ending our freshman year of high school, and we started sleeping together. We both knew that this was not the recommended thing to do, but we felt that we were mature enough, so we started anyway.
You might be wondering why we started. It’s actually pretty simple. Michael and I both watched all of the videos and read all of the pamphlets and listened to all of the guest speakers that preached the importance of safe sex, and better yet, abstinence. Actually, I even got an A+ on my abstinence report I did for my health class. I think Michael got a D, but that’s just ‘cause he’s Michael. Anyway, we knew all of the things that could happen when we started sleeping together. We knew we probably shouldn’t be doing it, but we did. For fun. For entertainment.
I remember when it first happened. We were lounging around down in Michael’s basement. We were talking about how much we hated Isabel Evans, the school snob who expected everyone to bow down and kiss her feet. We were talking about how much we would love it if she slipped in a pile of mud and destroyed her new designer dress. We were talking about how much we hated that everyone knew us as the school’s resident outcasts. We were talking about how much we hated everyone but each other. We were talking about how we were all we had.
After talking about all of that, we got seriously bored. We couldn’t watch TV. Michael didn’t have cable, and the only channels he got seemed to play infomercials after infomercials constantly. We didn’t want to play cards or any board games. We were too old for stupid games now. We couldn’t go upstairs. Michael’s father would spot us and put us both to work cleaning out the attic.
He suggested that we could have sex, just to see what it was like. He didn’t say it like it was a big deal. He just said, "We could have sex,", and I just said, "Okay."
I wasn’t nervous about it at all. Michael was my best friend. I knew I could trust him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. And I wasn’t worried about getting pregnant or anything either. Michael knew that there were condoms downstairs. They were probably his dad’s. That thought alone makes me want to gag to this very day.
Anyway, Michael and I had sex down in his basement. So much for my abstinence report, huh? It was awkward, of course. Both of us had never done anything like that before. We didn’t know where to put our hands. We didn’t know what we were supposed to do with our mouths. We did a lot of laughing as we were trying to figure out what to do. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t passionate. It was just fun.
After that, we kept doing it, not as a romantic thing, but as a casual thing. As we progressed, I noticed that Michael was becoming much better, much more experienced. I even joked with him that all of the practicing that we were doing was going to help him when he actually got a real girlfriend. And then we both laughed about it, knowing that, as outcasts, he might never get a girlfriend and I might never get a boyfriend.
I had a pregnancy scare when I had just turned sixteen at the end of my sophomore year. I was so worried that I was going to be one of those teenage moms that you see on TV. I was worried that my mom was going to ask me to be on the Maury show to talk about my "situation." I knew that was the word she would use for it. I was in a panicked state, and so was Michael, but he didn’t show it as much as I did.
He had to have been practically peeing in his pants when I told him that I was two weeks late. The word FATHER must have flashed across his mind at least a hundred times. But he kept it together. He went out and bought me one of those home pregnancy tests and held my hand while we waited for the results. I remember thinking how cute he was when he sat there telling me how great of a father he would be.
False alarm, though. I wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t going to be a teenage mom. I wasn’t going to go be on Maury. Michael wasn’t going to have to be the great father he said he would be.
You would think that might have stopped us. You would think that we might have thought twice about what we were doing, but we didn’t. We kept on sleeping together, still just completely casual. We did take more measures to secure that another pregnancy scare would not occur. I finally convinced my mom to get me on the pill when I was a junior. She didn’t ask if I was sleeping with anybody. She didn’t ask who. I don’t think she would have been able to hear the truth.
We continued through high school as the outcasts. Somehow, no one ever found out that I was giving him a blow job in the eraser room during study hall. No one ever found out that he was putting his hands up my shirt in history. No one ever found out that we were fucking each other’s brains out. Excuse my language. I don’t think anyone really cared about what we did.
After graduation, Michael and I got an apartment together. I was so glad to get away from my whacked out mom, and he was so glad to get away from his work-a-holic dad. We moved to the city in hopes that I would land a record deal. Michael told me I was pretty enough to land a modeling contract.
I never landed a record deal. I worked at Bargain Mart. Michael worked at Burger Hut. We would both come home from work exhausted, but we would always find time for a little rendezvous in the bedroom. Still, though, we weren’t romantically involved. It had always been a casual thing. It would always be a casual thing.
When we were nineteen, Michael met Carmen. She had ordered a burger and fries at Burger Hut. Michael had thought she was so beautiful. He was infatuated with her the minute he saw her. Infatuated with her long, red hair, her creamy, smooth skin, her bright, green eyes. They talked for five minutes that day, and he got her to give him her phone number.
The next thing I knew, they were going out for coffee. Then lunch. Then dinner. After that, they were going on full-fledged dates. Romantic dates. Michael was out late. By the time he got home, I was asleep. No more rendezvous.
I missed him, and I didn’t realize how much I missed him until he and Carmen were three weeks into their relationship. I couldn’t help but compare myself to her when she stopped by the apartment. I wondered if I was as pretty as she was. I wondered if I even stood a chance.
I got so jealous when she kissed Michael good-bye. I got so jealous when she held his hand at the movie theater. I’ve never been the type to be jealous before. I’ve never had a reason to be jealous, but now I did. She was putting her hands on Michael when I was the only one who ever had before. She was dating him when he was never supposed to have a real girlfriend. That’s what we had predicted way back in ninth grade.
It didn’t look like our prediction was going to be coming true.
I remember that I got off from work really late one night. I came home complaining right when I stepped foot inside the apartment. I complained about the working conditions. I complained about the people. I complained about the guy who worked beside me and passed gas all of the time.
But I wasn’t complaining to Michael. I wasn’t complaining to anyone. The place appeared empty. I thought for a minute that he might be out on a date with Carmen again. He did that a lot. But then I heard them.
I walked slowly to our bedroom. Our bedroom, as in Michael’s and my bedroom. I pushed open the door slightly and saw them in a tangle of sheets, having sex like there was no tomorrow. He kept saying her name. He even whispered it as he came, just like he always did with me and my name.
I wasn’t jealous anymore. I was sad. I left the apartment and stayed out on the street most of that night. I wasn’t able to think about anything but Michael. The guy who was always just my best friend was the love of my life. I remember shuddering when that revelation came upon me.
I should have known. We had always said that what we did was casual, that it didn’t really mean anything. It was just something to do for fun, to pass the hours. Michael never saw me in that light. You know, that light that he saw Carmen in.
Things between Michael and I were tense for the next week. He was over at Carmen’s for the most part. I knew he would be moving in with her soon, leaving me all by myself. Whenever he was around, we barely talked. I couldn’t even form words when all I could do was imagine the feel of his hands on my bare skin, the taste of his lips locked onto mine, the feel of his body inside of mine.
Then one night, Michael came home. I hadn’t been expecting him when he bursted through the door. I asked him why he wasn’t staying at Carmen’s like he usually did. He told me he hated her.
Later that night, he told me that he had found Carmen in bed with other men. Men. Plural. Meaning more than one. He said that she had been hosting her body to four other guys. And enjoying it. Immensely. I told him I was sorry. I really was. I hated Carmen to no end, but Michael had been on his way to loving her, if he hadn’t loved her already.
He crawled in bed with me that night, his anger and rage still seeping off of him. I remember feeling so guilty that I was happy that things with Carmen had worked out this way. I remember feeling so guilty that I felt so happy with him lying next to me, so close that I could feel his body heat.
Michael . . .
He kissed me before we went to sleep. Not just a quick kiss, either. A long, deep kiss like the ones he gave me during our senior year, when things were really hot between us. I kissed him back, wanting to believe that he was kissing me like he kissed Carmen and knowing quite well that he wasn’t.
He snaked his hand down between my legs, hinting at what he wanted. I wanted it, too, but not like this. I pulled away and removed his hand. I told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him. Not when he was wishing he was having sex with Carmen.
We didn’t go to sleep for a long time. We laid in silence for a short time, and then I asked him some more about Carmen. I asked him if he loved her. He said maybe. I asked him if she loved him. He said no. I asked him if he had ever made love to her. Made love. Not just had sex with her. He said that he had tried, but that she wouldn’t let him.
His hand found its way into mine that night at around 3:45 a.m. He said that we really were all each other had. I told him that was fine with me.
After I said that, he looked into my eyes. Really looked. An intense look. Not just a quick glance. He shared my gaze for at least two minutes. I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
He told me I was beautiful. He said I was even more beautiful than Carmen. I laughed, not believing him.
He kissed me again, and this kiss was different than any other kiss he had ever given me. This one was passionate and romantic and not just full of desire, but full of . . . well, it felt a lot like love. And not just the best friend kind of love, either, but the love kind of love.
All thoughts of Carmen and her cheating ways seemed to be wiped from his mind that night as he touched me and kissed me. He explored my body like he had never seen it before. He did everything like it was our first time together.
He made love to me that night. For the first time since we had started sleeping together six years ago.
Michael has never told me he loves me, and I’ve never told him that I love him, but I have this undeniable feeling that he does. He tells me that he never loved Carmen or any of the other girls he has laid eyes on. He says he has only loved one person his whole life. He never comes out and tells me that it’s me, but I know.
Maybe someday the L-word will escape his lips.
THE END
By April
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did.
Category: Michael and Maria AU (Maria’s POV)
Rating: PG-13ish
Author’s Note: I have been so absent from the fanfiction community for such a long time, it's not even funny. Here's just a little something I wrote awhile ago. Gotta love that candy. Sexy.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael and I started sleeping together when I was fourteen. I think he had just turned fifteen and I was going to turn fifteen in a few weeks. I can’t quite remember for sure, but the point is that we were young. We were both ending our freshman year of high school, and we started sleeping together. We both knew that this was not the recommended thing to do, but we felt that we were mature enough, so we started anyway.
You might be wondering why we started. It’s actually pretty simple. Michael and I both watched all of the videos and read all of the pamphlets and listened to all of the guest speakers that preached the importance of safe sex, and better yet, abstinence. Actually, I even got an A+ on my abstinence report I did for my health class. I think Michael got a D, but that’s just ‘cause he’s Michael. Anyway, we knew all of the things that could happen when we started sleeping together. We knew we probably shouldn’t be doing it, but we did. For fun. For entertainment.
I remember when it first happened. We were lounging around down in Michael’s basement. We were talking about how much we hated Isabel Evans, the school snob who expected everyone to bow down and kiss her feet. We were talking about how much we would love it if she slipped in a pile of mud and destroyed her new designer dress. We were talking about how much we hated that everyone knew us as the school’s resident outcasts. We were talking about how much we hated everyone but each other. We were talking about how we were all we had.
After talking about all of that, we got seriously bored. We couldn’t watch TV. Michael didn’t have cable, and the only channels he got seemed to play infomercials after infomercials constantly. We didn’t want to play cards or any board games. We were too old for stupid games now. We couldn’t go upstairs. Michael’s father would spot us and put us both to work cleaning out the attic.
He suggested that we could have sex, just to see what it was like. He didn’t say it like it was a big deal. He just said, "We could have sex,", and I just said, "Okay."
I wasn’t nervous about it at all. Michael was my best friend. I knew I could trust him. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. And I wasn’t worried about getting pregnant or anything either. Michael knew that there were condoms downstairs. They were probably his dad’s. That thought alone makes me want to gag to this very day.
Anyway, Michael and I had sex down in his basement. So much for my abstinence report, huh? It was awkward, of course. Both of us had never done anything like that before. We didn’t know where to put our hands. We didn’t know what we were supposed to do with our mouths. We did a lot of laughing as we were trying to figure out what to do. It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t passionate. It was just fun.
After that, we kept doing it, not as a romantic thing, but as a casual thing. As we progressed, I noticed that Michael was becoming much better, much more experienced. I even joked with him that all of the practicing that we were doing was going to help him when he actually got a real girlfriend. And then we both laughed about it, knowing that, as outcasts, he might never get a girlfriend and I might never get a boyfriend.
I had a pregnancy scare when I had just turned sixteen at the end of my sophomore year. I was so worried that I was going to be one of those teenage moms that you see on TV. I was worried that my mom was going to ask me to be on the Maury show to talk about my "situation." I knew that was the word she would use for it. I was in a panicked state, and so was Michael, but he didn’t show it as much as I did.
He had to have been practically peeing in his pants when I told him that I was two weeks late. The word FATHER must have flashed across his mind at least a hundred times. But he kept it together. He went out and bought me one of those home pregnancy tests and held my hand while we waited for the results. I remember thinking how cute he was when he sat there telling me how great of a father he would be.
False alarm, though. I wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t going to be a teenage mom. I wasn’t going to go be on Maury. Michael wasn’t going to have to be the great father he said he would be.
You would think that might have stopped us. You would think that we might have thought twice about what we were doing, but we didn’t. We kept on sleeping together, still just completely casual. We did take more measures to secure that another pregnancy scare would not occur. I finally convinced my mom to get me on the pill when I was a junior. She didn’t ask if I was sleeping with anybody. She didn’t ask who. I don’t think she would have been able to hear the truth.
We continued through high school as the outcasts. Somehow, no one ever found out that I was giving him a blow job in the eraser room during study hall. No one ever found out that he was putting his hands up my shirt in history. No one ever found out that we were fucking each other’s brains out. Excuse my language. I don’t think anyone really cared about what we did.
After graduation, Michael and I got an apartment together. I was so glad to get away from my whacked out mom, and he was so glad to get away from his work-a-holic dad. We moved to the city in hopes that I would land a record deal. Michael told me I was pretty enough to land a modeling contract.
I never landed a record deal. I worked at Bargain Mart. Michael worked at Burger Hut. We would both come home from work exhausted, but we would always find time for a little rendezvous in the bedroom. Still, though, we weren’t romantically involved. It had always been a casual thing. It would always be a casual thing.
When we were nineteen, Michael met Carmen. She had ordered a burger and fries at Burger Hut. Michael had thought she was so beautiful. He was infatuated with her the minute he saw her. Infatuated with her long, red hair, her creamy, smooth skin, her bright, green eyes. They talked for five minutes that day, and he got her to give him her phone number.
The next thing I knew, they were going out for coffee. Then lunch. Then dinner. After that, they were going on full-fledged dates. Romantic dates. Michael was out late. By the time he got home, I was asleep. No more rendezvous.
I missed him, and I didn’t realize how much I missed him until he and Carmen were three weeks into their relationship. I couldn’t help but compare myself to her when she stopped by the apartment. I wondered if I was as pretty as she was. I wondered if I even stood a chance.
I got so jealous when she kissed Michael good-bye. I got so jealous when she held his hand at the movie theater. I’ve never been the type to be jealous before. I’ve never had a reason to be jealous, but now I did. She was putting her hands on Michael when I was the only one who ever had before. She was dating him when he was never supposed to have a real girlfriend. That’s what we had predicted way back in ninth grade.
It didn’t look like our prediction was going to be coming true.
I remember that I got off from work really late one night. I came home complaining right when I stepped foot inside the apartment. I complained about the working conditions. I complained about the people. I complained about the guy who worked beside me and passed gas all of the time.
But I wasn’t complaining to Michael. I wasn’t complaining to anyone. The place appeared empty. I thought for a minute that he might be out on a date with Carmen again. He did that a lot. But then I heard them.
I walked slowly to our bedroom. Our bedroom, as in Michael’s and my bedroom. I pushed open the door slightly and saw them in a tangle of sheets, having sex like there was no tomorrow. He kept saying her name. He even whispered it as he came, just like he always did with me and my name.
I wasn’t jealous anymore. I was sad. I left the apartment and stayed out on the street most of that night. I wasn’t able to think about anything but Michael. The guy who was always just my best friend was the love of my life. I remember shuddering when that revelation came upon me.
I should have known. We had always said that what we did was casual, that it didn’t really mean anything. It was just something to do for fun, to pass the hours. Michael never saw me in that light. You know, that light that he saw Carmen in.
Things between Michael and I were tense for the next week. He was over at Carmen’s for the most part. I knew he would be moving in with her soon, leaving me all by myself. Whenever he was around, we barely talked. I couldn’t even form words when all I could do was imagine the feel of his hands on my bare skin, the taste of his lips locked onto mine, the feel of his body inside of mine.
Then one night, Michael came home. I hadn’t been expecting him when he bursted through the door. I asked him why he wasn’t staying at Carmen’s like he usually did. He told me he hated her.
Later that night, he told me that he had found Carmen in bed with other men. Men. Plural. Meaning more than one. He said that she had been hosting her body to four other guys. And enjoying it. Immensely. I told him I was sorry. I really was. I hated Carmen to no end, but Michael had been on his way to loving her, if he hadn’t loved her already.
He crawled in bed with me that night, his anger and rage still seeping off of him. I remember feeling so guilty that I was happy that things with Carmen had worked out this way. I remember feeling so guilty that I felt so happy with him lying next to me, so close that I could feel his body heat.
Michael . . .
He kissed me before we went to sleep. Not just a quick kiss, either. A long, deep kiss like the ones he gave me during our senior year, when things were really hot between us. I kissed him back, wanting to believe that he was kissing me like he kissed Carmen and knowing quite well that he wasn’t.
He snaked his hand down between my legs, hinting at what he wanted. I wanted it, too, but not like this. I pulled away and removed his hand. I told him I wasn’t going to have sex with him. Not when he was wishing he was having sex with Carmen.
We didn’t go to sleep for a long time. We laid in silence for a short time, and then I asked him some more about Carmen. I asked him if he loved her. He said maybe. I asked him if she loved him. He said no. I asked him if he had ever made love to her. Made love. Not just had sex with her. He said that he had tried, but that she wouldn’t let him.
His hand found its way into mine that night at around 3:45 a.m. He said that we really were all each other had. I told him that was fine with me.
After I said that, he looked into my eyes. Really looked. An intense look. Not just a quick glance. He shared my gaze for at least two minutes. I couldn’t bring myself to look away.
He told me I was beautiful. He said I was even more beautiful than Carmen. I laughed, not believing him.
He kissed me again, and this kiss was different than any other kiss he had ever given me. This one was passionate and romantic and not just full of desire, but full of . . . well, it felt a lot like love. And not just the best friend kind of love, either, but the love kind of love.
All thoughts of Carmen and her cheating ways seemed to be wiped from his mind that night as he touched me and kissed me. He explored my body like he had never seen it before. He did everything like it was our first time together.
He made love to me that night. For the first time since we had started sleeping together six years ago.
Michael has never told me he loves me, and I’ve never told him that I love him, but I have this undeniable feeling that he does. He tells me that he never loved Carmen or any of the other girls he has laid eyes on. He says he has only loved one person his whole life. He never comes out and tells me that it’s me, but I know.
Maybe someday the L-word will escape his lips.
THE END