A/N: I wrote down the first draft of this scene in a hotel room in 2015. Concert chapters are a must in MJ fanfics. xD Based on the timeline I used for COM, the background to this is the 1999 charity concert in Germany/Seoul. Enjoy. x)

I'm not kidding this time. Enjoy. 🌚

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Cassie touched the mirror: polished perfectly and cold to touch. There were mirrors all around the bathroom. Large, wide ones at the washstand; long, tall ones where the actual bathing took place (she privately wondered who on earth loves admiring their naked bodies head to foot while bathing).

The dull buzzing from the ceiling vent had a subduing effect. She wasn't the one putting on the show yet felt physically and emotionally exhausted once it ended. It was half past twelve. Preparing for bed, she washed her face, put on a tank top and a pair of cotton sweatpants.

Her finger traced the smooth edge of the mirror absent-mindedly. Alone in the bathroom, after the euphoria of yelling and cheering with the crowd left her, she found herself feeling a little disoriented and empty. Somehow ... she missed her usual life. She thought of Queen and Mr Tubs, who were staying with Rainee and Andrew for the week. The feeling of alienation that came with being in a foreign country contributed to the emptiness, she reasoned. The farthest she had been was Canada with her family, to visit Aunt Suzanne. She had not step foot in another continent. It was very much out of her comfort zone to travel so far away.

A knock on the sliding door brought her out from her thoughts.

"Cassie?" Michael called, his voice one of concern; she must had been in the bathroom much longer than she thought.

"Hold on, just combing my hair. It's all tangled," she replied back, picking up her hair brush. She unlocked the sliding door and Michael's head appeared at the doorway.

"You want to shave or something?" she asked as he closed the door back on its rails. "I thought you shaved before the show last night." 

"No, no ..." He came back up close to her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Just wanted to check you out," he said. His adrenaline seemed to have finally died down a little. He let out a sigh of tired contentment. Cassie put her comb down on the bathroom counter and allowed herself to lean back onto him.

"The kids are asleep," he told her. She nodded in response.

"You're thinking about something," he said after a while. "What is it?"

Cassie looked down at their hands. Her tan ones upon his pale ones.

"It's just a little strange to be so far away from home. I think of Queen, you know, and Mr Tubs," she said.

"Her Royal Highness and the General," Michael laughed softly. "We'll be back real soon. I promise."

She met his gaze in the mirror. He smiled at her and gave her a warm squeeze.

Smiling gently, her hand reached up to touch his face. Thank you, she mouthed at his reflection.

Only a week. It would be fine; she simply wasn't used to it.

She observed their reflections for a while.

"I'm shorter than you," she said, comparing their respective heights. She stood on tip-toe. "Now I'm taller."

He chuckled, planting an affectionate kiss on her cheek and widening her smile. Burying his nose into the crook of her neck, he took a deep breath there and she closed her eyes. She felt his smile against her neck. There was something playful yet deliberate in the way he was doing it. 

Slowly, his hand brushed her hair sideways, exposing more of her neck and the curve along her shoulder. It wasn't cold, but a shiver went down her spine. 

Then she felt his lips placing the softest kiss on her skin, then another and another ... Seeing that there was no resistance on her part, his kisses trailed upwards to her cheek, just below her ear. Without speaking, she spun around to kiss his mouth softly. 

He broke away only to continue his quiet kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She was relieved that he had the sense to lock the sliding door earlier. She chanced a glance at it: the door looked thick and solid, it was quite heavy and at any rate, unlikely to be accidentally opened. The consequence would be painfully awkward if it did.

She felt him slipping off one of the straps of her top. 

"Michael, stop," she breathed. It was terrifyingly easy yet unwise to escalate from here. 

"Just a little more ..." he murmured between kisses. His warm breath on her skin made it better – no, worse –

"No, we're gonna be heard ..." she squeaked, feeling self-conscious now.

"Stay quiet then," he whispered conspiratorially in her ear, but the giggling which followed ruined the effect. Cassie aimed a punch at his chest as he slipped the strap back onto her shoulder.

He grinned at her, held her face carefully in his hands, and planted a series of kisses on her lips before heading out, leaving her with a smile on her flushed face. She carried on brushing her hair, taking in shallow breaths to be as silent as possible.

Would it be like this? Sneaking in little moments of closeness if they stayed together in the future? She would never find someone else like him again. She did so want a child – a little one whom she could share her values and thoughts of the world with, though she couldn't bring herself to bear one with her own body.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she saw Prince and Paris asleep on the bed, a hand and leg poking out from underneath the blankets. She tucked them back carefully, her heart filled with tenderness.

Cassie found Michael at the couch in the living area and joined him. He put his arm around her with an easy air, and she leaned onto his shoulder with the same familiarity. 

"Hey, don't open the curtains," he reminded her.

"I know."

"The fans are all down there."

"Mmm."

"They won't go home tonight."

"Hmm."

Like thus she continued to be his listener.

"I go down and talk to a couple of them. Rarely though. I need to have bodyguards with me and all that ... A lot of them are very, very nice people when they've calmed down a bit," he grinned.

"You want to go down?"

"No, I want to stay here."

Amidst the darkness they heard a small figure shuffling towards them. Cassie sat up straight, removing herself from him. His arm did not leave, however; he settled it around her waist.

"Daddy, I had a bad dream," said Paris. She climbed up onto the couch and curled into Michael's arms, seeking comfort.

His free hand stroked her hair. "It's okay. Like you said, it's just a bad dream." At the same time, Cassie felt his other hand reaching for her own in the dark. Her fingers slipped between his. He held her hand tightly, firmly: the little secret and connection they shared.  

Paris looked up from Michael to Cassie, then back to Michael again. Her eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

"Daddy, why aren't you sleeping yet?"

"I was talking to Cassie for a while."

"Talking about what?"

"Just talking. Like what Daddy is doing with you now," he said with a smile.

"Oh." The answer satisfied her.

"Do you want Daddy to come with you?"

"No, I can go sleep by myself."

He pecked her forehead. "Okay. Goodnight, Paris."

"Goodnight, Daddy," she pecked his cheek in return.

"Say goodnight to Cassie," he told her.

Paris turned to Cassie. Without a second thought, she said, "Goodnight, Cassie."

Cassie caressed the little girl's hair gently. "Goodnight, Paris."

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A/N: *uses paper bag to breathe* Which part did you enjoy? Don't worry, take your time while I go splash some water onto my face.