Yay! New Fic! Aren't you all just bouncing off the walls with excitement? Haha.

Anyway, this is just a one-shot, so don't expect anymore chapters, cos there won't be any. I was gonna break it up, cos it's pretty long, but meh, I can't be bothered. And I don't want you guys hanging in suspense. Well, I do, but oh well.

Basically, it's an AU, Mia is not with Kenny, but she is not with Michael either. And it takes place on a Friday night, and a Saturday.

Disclaimer: Meg Cabot own's all characters.


Mia sat down on the Moscovitz's couch to watch a movie with Lilly. It was Friday night and she was spending the entire weekend at the Moscovitz's since her mom and Mr. G had gone away, and she didn't particularly want to stay with her dad and Grandmere.

"Lilly, I don't feel so good," Mia said, bringing her hand up to her forehead, feeling it to be both warm and slightly sweaty. Just how she liked to be whenever Lilly's brother Michael was around. Not.

"You'll be fine," Lilly said, sitting down next to her and picking up the remote controls. "You're probably just over reacting to nothing."

"You're probably right," Mia said, trying to be optimistic.

But halfway through the movie she didn't feel optimistic at all anymore. She felt like she was going to throw up.

Michael walked out of his room, "Hey, Thermopolis," he said to her. "Are you ok? You don't look so good."

Mia didn't reply. She just covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom.

"I love the effect a simple 'hello' has on the woman I love," Michael thought bitterly.

Apparently Lilly thought the same way, "God Michael, now look what you've done. Can't you stay in your room?" she cried, rushing after Mia.

Dejected, Michael stalked off to his room and stayed there.

Lilly knocked on the bathroom door, "Mia, it's me. Are you ok?"

She slowly opened the door and saw Mia sitting next to the toilet, silently crying.

"Hey," Lilly softly said, a tone she did not employ regularly. Kneeling beside her she continued, "What's wrong?"

"I feel like crap," Mia said truthfully. "And I just made an ass out of myself in front of your brother."

"Who cares what Michael thinks?" Lilly tried to calm her. "Do you want something? A tablet?"

Mia nodded a yes, "And then I think I'll just go to bed. I really do feel like crap."

"Sure, stay here. I'll be back in a second," Lilly said, standing up and walking out of the room.

When she returned a minute later she had a tablet, a glass of water and an empty ice cream container. "Here, take this," she handed her the tablet and glass. "And this is to keep beside your bed," she indicated towards the ice cream tub.

"Thanks," Mia said, before swallowing the tablet and standing up.

* * *

Early the next morning Lilly softly knocked on her brother's door and walked in.

Michael stirred in his bed and cracked open an eye. "What? What's wrong?" He sat up in bed, expecting the worst. He figured it had to be bad for her to voluntarily come into his room. Especially when it was before nine o'clock on a Saturday morning.

"Easy, tiger," Lilly joked. "I just want to ask what you're doing today?"

"Oh, not much. I have a bit of Crackhead to do, but that's it. Why?"

"Well, I have an episode of 'Lilly Tells It Like It Is' to shoot, Mia was supposed to help me, but she's sick. And without her help it'll take me twice as long. And mom and dad have a work function to go to..."

"Get to the point, Lil. I assume you have one," Michael said impatiently.

"Well, I think Mia needs to rest today, and there isn't going to be anyone home to look after her, so I was thinking, maybe you wouldn't mind helping her out today. You know, getting her stuff when she needs it. That sort of thing."

"Sure," Michael tried to sound nonchalant, but it was hard to when he knew he was going to be spending the day alone with Mia. Even if she was sick.

"You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

"Cool, thanks. Oh, and, Michael, try not to make her vomit again," she said with a mischievous smile as she left the room.

But Michael couldn't help thinking the same thing. It hadn't been HIM that had made her throw up the night before, right?

He certainly hoped not, because how was he supposed to look after Mia if he just made her worse?

* * *

Mia woke up at ten thirty, and she wondered why Lilly hadn't woken her. They were supposed to be filming an episode of her show today.

She stepped out of bed and almost tripped over the empty ice cream tub she'd left by her bed the night before. Suddenly she remembered being sick the night before, and she remembered embarrassing herself in front of Michael.

Almost immediately she felt sick again. Feeling her forehead, she found it to be just as hot and sweaty.

She pulled on her robe and headed for the door, but before she'd even reached it she had to take it off, it was too hot.

Mia slowly stumbled out into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and found Michael was eating breakfast there.

This was so not how she wanted Michael to see her, sick and in her pyjamas, probably with a bad case of bed head too.

At least Michael looked as if he'd just rolled out of bed too though. His hair was ruffled and he was shirtless.

"Why can't I look that good when I first wake up?" Mia thought to herself.

"Morning," Michael greeted her with a smile. "Feeling better?"

"Not really," Mia answered, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Where is everyone?"

"Mom and dad left for a work function and Lilly had that episode of her show to do."

"She left without me?" Mia asked him.

"Well she didn't think you were well enough to be venturing outside. And I agree with her."

"I'm fine," Mia lied. "Couldn't be better."

"Then why do you look like you're about to throw up again?" he asked.

Mia gulped, "Because I am!" she cried, running into the bathroom.

"Mia, you are not 'fine'. Come and sit down on the couch," he said in an authoritative voice she couldn't help but like.

Mia didn't argue, she let Michael lead her by the arm to the couch, where she collapsed onto it.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, kneeling down beside her head.


"Sure," he replied, getting up and walking into the kitchen.

After getting her the water, Michael set about making her some breakfast, figuring her stomach must be completely empty now.

When it was ready he brought it out to her on a tray. "Thanks," she said, sitting up a fraction so she could eat it. "I'm starving."

"I thought you might be. Is there anything else you want?" he asked, quite liking Mia being helpless on his couch.

Mia knew what she needed, but she hated to ask Michael for it. Who wanted to tell the guy they loved that you need a vomit bucket?

"Um, there's just one thing I need. It's, um, next to my bed."

Michael walked into Lilly's room. "What is it?" he called out.

"The uh, ice cream tub..." she said, embarrassed.

Michael, however, was not embarrassed. He simply brought it out and sat it next to her on the coffee table.

"Anything else?" he asked. "Do you want to watch a movie or something? Totally your choice, of course."

"Wow, thanks, Michael. I should be sick more often!"

She chose a movie and Michael slipped it into the DVD player. Then he sat next to her feet at the other side of the couch.

"You don't have to sit with me," Mia said, secretly hoping he would stay. "I mean, I'm probably contagious."

"I'll risk it, Thermopolis," he said, patting her on the feet. "Besides, what if you need something? I can't very well have you getting up to get anything yourself, now can I?"

Mia smiled and turned to watch the movie, which had just started. Her head was still hot, she was still sweaty, but she felt so much better, just having him there with her.

* * *

Michael was sitting on the couch with Mia, they were supposed to be watching a movie, but she'd fallen asleep. And Michael wasn't concentrating on the movie either. Not while Mia was lying there, next to him, gently breathing in and out.

"Even when she's sick she's still beautiful," Michael thought.

* * *

Mia woke up a few hours later, still on the couch, but covered in a blanket. She was freezing. What happened to being too hot?

And where was Michael? He was no longer sitting at her feet, and the tv had been turned off.

She'd obviously fallen asleep during the movie, how embarrassing. Michael had moved her breakfast tray and left in on the coffee table next to her. On top of it was a tiny silver bell.

She picked it up and softly rang it, wondering what would happen. Had Michael purposely left it for her to use when she woke up and wanted something?

Sure enough, Michael appeared at the kitchen doorway, wearing an apron. "You rang?" he asked.

"Um," she didn't know what to say. She hadn't rung for anything in particular. "What are you doing?"

"Making you lunch," he replied, as if it was the most completely normal thing to be doing.

Michael walked back into the kitchen and stirred the soup that was in the saucepan on the stove.

It was only canned soup, but Mia had been asleep, how was she to know he hadn't made it from scratch? And besides, the amount of time it had taken him to open the can and heat the soup was probably the amount of time it took a normal person to make soup from scratch.

When it was hot enough, Michael spooned some out into a novelty mug for Mia, then he set it on another tray with some bread.

She was huddled under the blanket he'd covered her with earlier when he returned. "Here you go. Nice hot soup. It should make you feel better."

"Thanks, Michael," she said, sounding genuinely thankful.

"Mmm, Campbell's Vegetable. My favourite," she said after taking a sip.

"Damn," Michael thought. "She could tell."

But he merely smiled in response. It was too much to expect her to think even for a second that he could have made it himself. Michael was the King of two minute noodles and beans on toast. Even soup from a can was pushing his limits.

"So," Michael said, sitting at her feet again. "Feeling any better yet?"

"No. Actually I feel worse," she said. "But I'm sure the soup will help," she added quickly.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Um, can you just help me up? I need to go to the bathroom," she admitted shyly.

"Why?" Michael pounced, grabbing the ice cream tub. "Are you going to be sick again?" He thrust the tub under her chin.

"No," she said, pushing the tub away. "I just need to use the bathroom..." she said it slowly so he could understand this time.

"Oh. Oh! Right, ok," Michael blushed.

* * *

A few hours later Mia was still not feeling any better. The soup had been nice, but it hadn't exactly cured her or anything.

They were watching another movie, but Mia wasn't concentrating. She kept having hot and cold flushes, throwing the blanket aside then grabbing it back. And the fact that Michael was absent-mindedly stroking her foot didn't help.

She was also really tired, and she kept slipping in and out of sleep.

Michael looked at the tv screen in front of him, but he wasn't watching it. He was watching Mia. She wasn't doing too well, he knew. She kept changing her mind about whether she was hot or cold.

And she kept falling asleep for five minutes at a time.

She was asleep right now, she'd thrown the blanket off before so she was obviously feeling hot.

He stopped stroking her foot, which he couldn't help but do, and went into the bathroom to find a cold flannel.

Kneeling beside her head, he gently dabbed her forehead with the cold flannel.

Mia stirred and opened an eye.

"Sorry," Michael whispered, pulling the cloth away. "I just thought it might help."

"No," she said, lifting her hand up and grabbing his hand, placing it, and the flannel back on her head. "Don't stop. It's nice."

She closed her eyes again, thinking it was a dream.

Michael continued to gently pat her face with the cloth.

"You're always so nice to me, Michael," she said sleepily. "You made me soup, you looked after me, even though I probably look hideous and feel like crap. But that's why I love you. Because you're just so nice..." She stopped talking, having nodded off again.

Michael stopped patting her forehead and stood up.

"What?" he thought. "What did she just say?"

Mia shivered in her sleep and Michael bent down to pick up the discarded blanket, placing it back over her.

Pinning the declaration of love to the fact that Mia was clearly delirious, not because it was the truth, Michael sat back on the couch and waited for her to wake again.

* * *

Mia woke a half-hour later, feeling much better than she had since the day before.

"Mmm... you're still here?" she asked Michael, who was sitting at the end of the couch, just looking at her.

"Yep, I'm still here."

"You're so nice to me, Michael," she said. "You made me soup, you looked after me, even though... What?" She stopped abruptly because Michael was looking at her strangely.

"You said all that before," he said, completely baffled.

"I did?" Mia asked, sitting up. Now it was her that was baffled. "When"

"Just before you fell asleep about half an hour ago."

"Oh. Well, it's the truth. You really have been great to me. Thanks."

"Was everything you said before the truth?" Michael asked, his heart pounding against his chest.

"I don't know. Probably. What else did I say?"

"Nothing, you didn't say anything else," Michael lied, not wanting to embarrass himself by admitting he wanted her delirious confession of love to be true.

"What, Michael?" she asked, sitting up and looking him directly in the eyes. "What else did I say?"

"Well," Michael realised Mia was not going to let it go until he told her. "You said... you said that you love me..." he quickly looked away.

"Oh. My. God," Mia said slowly. "I'm going to be sick." She reached out for the vomit tub and brought up all the breakfast and lunch Michael had made her.

"I'll get you some water," Michael said quickly, getting up and walking to the kitchen.

"I'm such an idiot," he thought to himself. "Of course it wasn't true. I make her throw up, how could I actually think that she was serious when she said she loved me?"

He filled a glass with water and brought it out to her, a speech about how he 'knew' it wasn't true all prepared.

But Mia wasn't anywhere to be seen when he got there.

"Mia?" he called. No response. "Mia?" He tried turning the bathroom door, but it was locked.


"Mia," Michael said softly, gently knocking on the door at the same time. "Come out, it's ok. I didn't think it was true. I knew you were delirious and half-asleep. It's ok."

No reply. All he could hear was Mia's soft cry from inside.

"Mia, just come out. There's still some more soup, I'll heat it up for you if you want. Please, just come out."

The door opened and Mia stood there, holding the now empty ice cream tub, which she'd obviously washed out.

"No, it's not ok, Michael. It never will be ok. Now everything's stuffed up. Now you hate me!" she cried.

"Mia, I don't hate you. Why would you think that?"

"Because I'm a freak! And because, because... because..." Mia felt dizzy. She couldn't even stand up right. She fell backwards and Michael caught her.

"Whoa, are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she lied, using the same tone of voice she's used that morning before she'd run into the bathroom.

"You are not 'fine'," he said leading her back to the couch.

"Yes, I am. Please, just leave me alone," she fell back against the couch, exhausted, and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

"Mia, I think we should talk about this," Michael said.

"Talk? About what? You already know how I feel. I told you in my stupid sleep," she mumbled as if to say she was never going to sleep again.

"So it's... it's true then?" Michael asked, not trusting his ears.

Mia didn't answer him, but the look on her face, and the way that she looked away from his eyes said it all for him.

"Mia, it's ok. Really. Because I..."

"No, Michael! It will..."

"... love you too." Michael finished.

"... never be... What?" Mia was shocked. That was the last thing she'd expected to hear him say.

"Well, I... I feel the same way," Michael said, suddenly shy.

"You do?"

Michael didn't answer her, he simply leaned forward to kiss her. But before he reached her lips, she pulled back.

"No," she said. "Don't. I'm contagious."

"I don't care. It just means that when I get sick you have to look after me," he said with a mischievous grin.

"Ok..." she compiled, letting him lean in again.

But before he could lean all the way, she pulled back again.

Michael sighed, "What now, Thermopolis?"

"Um, can you just give me a second to brush my teeth?"

Michael looked down at the ice cream tub she'd discarded on the floor. "Oh, right. Good idea."

Mia slowly stood up and headed to the bathroom again, hardly believing that Michael Moscovitz was waiting outside for her. Waiting to kiss her.

She quickly freshened up, though she still felt like crap. And then stepped back outside, minty fresh.

"You ready now?" he asked.

"Um, yes..." she said nervously.

"Good. Because I've been waiting a long time to do this..." and with that he pulled her into him and kissed her.

Mia felt better instantly. Michael's lips were like drugs, and she was addicted.


I hope you enjoyed. The whole thing was just an impulse fic, I was writing another one and suddenly had this idea.

This was a one-shot, so don't ask for more.

Btw, my other story Creep is getting to the really interesting bits, so I will update soon, but I would like to get to 100 reviews before I do, so if you haven't reviewed it yet, please do because I only need two more. Thanks!

Oh, and review this one too if it's not too much trouble!