Dangerous era

You've just gotten home from work, and you open the front door to your house and step inside.

"Michael, I'm home!" you call to your husband of six years.

You receive no reply, so you pad slowly into the living room, where you find Michael bundled up in blanket and surrounded by fluffy pillows.

He looks up at you, his eyes half-lidded, before stretching his hand out towards you longingly.

"Baby... I've been waiting for you all day," he explains.

"Why? What's wrong?" you ask sadly, noticing his pale skin and limp body.

"I'm sick; I feel awful," he explains, his voice hoarse.

"Why didn't you call me?" you question, feeling a little hurt.

"I didn't want to disturb you, that's all... you needed to work without worrying about me."

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back onto the collection of pillows he has, and you can't help but feel sorry for him.

"Aw, Michael..." you mutter sympathetically.

You then join him on the sofa, snuggling up to him, before guiding his head towards your lap so he can lie on you and get some rest.

Once his head is lying comfortably on your lap, you begin stroking his curls – which are messy from him lying down all day. Along with this, you repeat the words, "Shhh... get some sleep, baby..." over and over again.

You start to notice that with each time you run your fingers through his sweet curls, his eyes close a little more, and soon he's fast asleep in your lap.

You smile down at him, glad he's finally getting some rest, before bending down and kissing his forehead gently. You aren't going to move until he wakes up again, because that would be unfair.

"Goodnight, Michael," you whisper. "Get better soon, honey."

You carry on stroking his curls, waiting impatiently for him to get better, so he can be the normal, happy, lively Michael you love so much, again.

~~

These imagines will get longer, I promise. L.O.V.E. xx