A/N: Written for Schermionie's "5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 fandoms" challenge on the HPFC. Expect eight more posts from me regarding this challenge. This is incredibly silly and probably OOC. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Michael found down time downright uncomfortable. At any moment, someone could storm into his house and attack. He didn't have much to steal but the very thought of vulnerability gave him terrified chills down his spine.
"What're you worrying about?" Fiona asked, noticing that Michael seemed quieter than usual.
"Take a guess, Fi," Michael said, subtly eyeing the entire house as if silence was tangible. Fiona sighed.
"I guess that answer means I've gotta lighten up the mood somehow," Fiona said in a casual tone, her eyes glittering. Michael raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"I'm not following, and I'm sure I don't want to know," Michael said as he rummaged through his refrigerator to find yogurt.
"There hasn't been anyone asking for our help in a good four days, so that gives us time for ourselves to do whatever we want. So why not some alias creation?" Fiona seemed all too proud of her explanation.
"I'm still not following. I'm convinced now that it's in my best interest to let you do whatever you want," Michael said as he took a bite out of his yogurt.
"Oh come on Michael, stop being such a spoilsport and make up some aliases with me," Fiona said in a deadpan. "I'll start!" She turned her back to Michael, took a few steps away from him and then faced him again with her hand on her hip.
"I am Carla Larson, and I am here to spy," she said in a thin accent that Michael couldn't decipher.
"That was a terrible alias. I could do so much better," Michael said, and Fiona looked taken aback at his comment.
"I'd like to see you try." Michael suddenly had a burst of energy, which brightened up his face considerably from the scowl he had on earlier. Instead of doing something that required extreme dexterity or concentration, he instead leaned over the counter with a lazy grin on his face.
"How you doin', sugarplum?" Michael said in a thick drawl. He winked and Fiona laughed hysterically at the entire situation.
"...Should I ask what I walked in to?" Sam asked suddenly. Michael and Fiona both faced him quickly with looks on their faces that screamed deer in the headlights.
"We'll tell you if you can make up a convincing alias!" Fiona exclaimed.
"I'm Chuck Finley and I'm thirstier than a thirsty guy in a desert," Sam said, letting himself in.
"Oh come on Sam, that was horrible! You didn't even try," Fiona joked.
"What if your inability to be creative led us into trouble, Sam?" Michael asked, more serious than he was joking.
"I could always say I'm Cole Fitzgerald or something. That could work. Scratch that, Mikey, it'll totally work," Sam said with the utmost confidence as he rummaged through refrigerator just as Michael had just a few minutes before.
"And how would you know this?" Fiona asked.
"Why must you guys underestimate me so much?" Sam asked. With that, Fiona and Michael sighed contentedly in unison, as if they were expecting the answer. Everything seemed so much more normal, despite the surrounding quiet. Despite that, Michael was fine with this silence for once.