A/N: So... We all know Michael Westen/Jeffrey Donovan can dance and dance well. I decided he must also sing.
It was the realization that the bed was empty next to her that woke Fiona up. Blinking away the sleep in her eyes, she looked over her shoulder to confirm that Michael really was missing. She sighed, closing her eyes wearily and sinking back into the mattress. She liked that he would go out and get them breakfast, but she really did not like waking up without him there.
A quiet tune reached her ears and she snapped her eyes back in open in surprise. She wasn't the only one in the loft! She blinked again, trying to find the source of the humming. There. Over by the counter, a spoon full of yogurt in his mouth and a newspaper in front of him, was Michael. Cautiously, Fiona shifted to get a better look without alerting him to the fact she was awake and watching.
Success. Eyes still fixed on the paper, the spoon dipped into the yogurt cup and slid into his mouth again, completely unaware of his audience. Fiona stifled a giggle, straining her ears to pick out the tune. Suddenly, as if he were completely oblivious to what he was doing, the hum turned into singing.
"Dream... When you're feeling blue... Dream... That's the thing to do..."
Fiona bit her tongue to keep her jaw from dropping. Michael Weston was singing. And not only was he singing, but he was singing Frank Sinatra. And quite well. How in the world had she known him for so long and not known he had such a beautiful singing voice?
"Just... watch the smoke rings... rise in the air... You'll find your share... of memories there..."
Slowly, ever so slowly, Fiona sat up, eyes fixed on Michael in awe. His eyes glanced up at her instinctively, flicking back to the newspaper before doing a double take and trailing off. Their eyes locked momentarily before he quickly looked back down, hiding behind another bite of yogurt.
"Don't stop," Fiona whispered.
"Don't stop what?" Michael muttered, not looking up.
A soft huff passed through his lips. "I don't sing, Fi."
Fiona frowned, annoyed. "Then what were you just doing?"
Finally, he looked up, glaring at her. "Pretending I can sing."
Fiona laughed shortly. "If that was pretending, I can't wait to hear what you really sound like."
Michael looked back down to the newspaper stubbornly, spoon jamming into the yogurt cup with a little more force than necessary. "I don't sing, Fi."
Fiona growled lowly, swinging her legs over the side of the mattress and nimbly stepped over to the opposite side of the counter. She pushed a stool to the side so she could get in as close as possible, staring at the top of his head with conviction.
"Dream..." she sang softly. "When the day is through..."
Michael's jaw tightened, his eyes still fixed staunchly on the paper.
"Dream... And they might come true..." she continued. Michael let out a loud sigh, letting the spoon drop and looked up to meet her gaze.
"Things... never are... as bad... as they seem..." his quiet voice sang. Fiona grinned and, together, they finished the song.
"So dream... dream... dream..."
A/N: I love reviewers and live for constructive criticism!