Lost But Not Found (Michael)

When he came back to living room, seeing her sleep, he smirked again, placing stuff he brought on the coffee table next to her. From the nearby closet he pulled out blanket and covered her with it, checking if she was still okay, he decided to leave her here, where she was safe, locking door behind him, he went down to the crypt, to solve the issue that was waiting for him there. 

When he got down and faced the idiot, who clearly now wasn't such a hero as he was before, he pulled out his dagger. "You see, you didn't pay, which means you owe me. That's the first strike. Then you send some lame pathetic idiot to hurt me and my family. Strike two. And you hurt her. Which was strike three. You know what happens to people like you?" Michael asked darkly, smelling the fear from the man, he went closer, stabbing him straight into his chest. "You should spent those last painfull seconds praying I will never hunt down family, bastard," he hissed into his ear, as life was leaving his body. 

Cleaning the dagger and his hands, he went back upstairs, sitting on his sofa, he pulled out a book, reading and waiting for the sleeping beauty on his couch to wake up.

The first conscious thought for Zoya was that she cocooned in something very soft and warm. Sighing, she drew the thing closer to her, wondering when her hotel had invested in such luxurious blankets. This memory, broke through her sleep and forced her to open her eyes, realizing that she was in a place she did not even recognize, let alone something which she saw everyday. Snapping up upright, she looked around, noting the glass of water on the table, the cookies and the painkillers and the unfamiliar but definitely luxurious surrounding. Oh no! please don't tell me they dragged me off home! She thought in rising panic, relaxing as she caught sight of Michael reading. Ah, right.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the only other occupant of the room, she picked up the plate and brought it to rest on her lap. "What did you do to him?" She demanded lightly, munching on the cookies and ignoring the painkillers. Cookies were her medicine.

He closed the book and narrowed eyebrow at her, amused again. "Not exactly what had planned," he replied uninterrested in his last victim. "Didn't have that much time to proper chat. You see, I didn't exactly wanted to risk you catch one of your crazy moods and ruin my stuff here," he teased her. "Hope you like the cookies. Sister took some time to make them. She is a cookie master," he pointed towards cookies before he got up to get remote from TV. He actually like that muggle thing. Even some of the movies were quite fun. It was amusing to watch silly muggle stuff in all this mess. Calmed his mind.

"Anyway, feeling better, lady warrior?" he asked her, his attention at random movie in telly, as he put his legs up and relaxed a bit, tired from evnts of the past week. His jobs were great. But still, at the end of the week often left him exhausted and ready only for long sleep. At least his little siblings were gone now, so the place was quiet.

"I don't have crazy moods." Zoya insisted, huffing a little because it wasn't fair that Michael had the other hand. Just let me get my hands on you Rabastan! She thought, glaring into nothing. "They are awesome! So much more than you deserve." The comment slipped out, she hadn't really meant to say it but she knew it was true. When cookie-obsessed people like Zoya starved for homemade cookies, random cookie-likers had no business having access to such high level of epicness.

She loved watching the telly, having a muggle born mother made sure that she had spent her childhood surrounded by muggle artifacts. She wasn't quite pleased about his chocie though. "Ew! I am not watching A Walk to Remember!" She stated stubbornly, flicking her wand muttering, "Accio television remote!" Smugly catching the flying object in her hand. Sticking out her tongue, she flipped through the channels until she landed on a match between Arsenal and Chelsea. "Now that's taste." Sticking out her tongue at him, she focused fully on the match. 'Yeah yeah, I am used to concussions." She replied absently, her attention focused on the match which was on its 6th minute.

He watched her to switch program to some muggle sport, narrowing an eyebrow again and laughing slightly. "Care to explain the difference? None of this really make sense to me. I just find it silly thing useful for relax," he pointed out, genuinely impressed by way she watched the stupid muggle thing. He didn't really bother to ask, what she meant by being used to concussions. Probably the fact she really was as clumsy as Rabastan once told him.

Zoya gasped over-dramatically at his ignorance, looking up from the screen long enough to grace him with her shocked expression. "That, was a sappy muggle romance movie with weird time-travel-y kind of feel and bad driving and mush of the worst kind," She explained, extolling on the many failures of his choice with a distasteful expression. "While this," She gestured to the screen, "is a battle for glory and the work of hard work and blo-get it in the net Torres! YES! ITS A GOAL!!!" She cheered, fist-pumping enthusiastically. "That's it! Go you team of sodding losers! Beat the shit Arsenal and maybe I will briefly fan you." She urged the players on the screen, munching on the cookies, her lecture on the virtues of football pretty much forgotten.

Michael only shook his head, not really understanding a word about what she said. Leaving her to have her fun, he went upstairs to his room, taking his shirt off, throwing it into laundry, he decided to take a shower. Enjoying hot water after a busy day, he relaxed a little bit, before he had to get out again. It took him few seconds to realize all his clean t-shirts are downstairs, for which he cursed slightly, but in the end didn't really care. Putting his jeans on, he casualy walked down, curious about what happened while he was away.

Zoya was on the verge of tears. She had settled into the couch, leaning back on the arm rest with a cushion crushed in her arms as she sat staring at the screen morosely. 2-1. Arsenal had not only managed to equalize, they were in the lead and nothing could be more devastating for Zoya. Even the cookies were finished, which just added to her sadness. By the time half-time began, she was determined to go home. Or to hotel room. Or to some muggle pub so she could properly enjoy the game. Or whatever. Just not here, because she might actually cry if Arsenal managed to win and she didn't want witnesses for that.

"MICHAEL!" She called out, dragging herself off the couch and searching for her shoes. Finding one near the table, she bent down to pick it up only to drop it down again when she looked up to find said person standing before her. Shirtless. Blushing and annoyed by her reaction, she bent down to pick up her shoe again. "Get your clothes on. You are dropping me to Diagon Alley." She snapped, using her hair as a curtain as she looked around for her other shoe. This is getting mildly embarrassing.

"Blushing and crying about weird and boring muggle game, you never stop amaze me," he teased her as he saw her, clearly liking the view he accidentaly gave her. "You know, you don't have to hold yourself back, right? We kissed once before. And we both liked it," he continued, starring into her eyes as he went closer, his large hand holding her chin now. He could get used to this. She was clumsy, sometimes annoying and childish, but he liked her. And he still planned on keeping her eventualy.

"Nobody insults football. Ever." Zoya countered, shooting a glare towards Michael which was totally ruined by the converse in her hand. It didn't help that she had to look away in under a minute, knowing that if she looked any longer she would start staring which would be very, very embarrassing. Nevertheless, at his advance, her stupid heart speeded up to dangerous levels, especially when he stated his offer. Spending time with him was turning dangerous and his effect on her only served to make her dislike him even more.

As his hand touched her chin, she swallowed visibly, feeling a bit scared of his effect on her but she covered it up. "And what, miss the game?" She replied, swatting his hand away from her chin, finding it a bit easier to breath with it gone. "Uh huh. You take me straight to Diagon Alley and then I will go on.....well, not to any more creepy alleys wherein I can get lost so you don't really need to know." She rushed, eye shining in victory as she located her second shoe. "Got ya!" She announced, glad for an excuse to step away from Michael. "Hurry up, half time lasts only fifteen minutes." She remarked, stuffing her feet into the shoes and standing up, ready to leave.

He enjoyed the obvious influence he had on her. And he enjoyed even more the fact she hated him for it. It was fun. He was a cat and she was his little mouse. How long will it take before he gets her? "Why don't you just apparate? You can do it from here. You cannot just apparate in here," he told her, knowing that it would be the fastest way for her and also, lack of being a gentleman would piss her off even more. "But before you go," he stated and reached for her, pushing her towards him, he kissed her again, a bit longer now. Waiting for her to push him away.

"Oh bloody hell! I totally forgot that." Zoya literally face-palmed, feeling stupid beyond belief as she realized her mistake. She should really get some travel guides for London but her pride refused to allow her to admit, even to herself that she actually was a stranger to London and in some ways, an immigrant like Michael knew more about it than her. Amidst her embarrassment, she felt a wad of anger because she hadn't been all that mean to the guy today and certainly did not warrant a blow off.

But as usual, before she could get around to begin a tirade against him, he pulled her to him and kissed her, more thoroughly than the fleeting kiss back in the Leaky Cauldron. At first, Zoya only felt sparks and a deliciously tingly feeling. She didn't know exactly when she had twined her hands in his hair, dragging him closer but a sudden burst of anger from her subconscious, both at him and herself made her all too aware of her position.

She pushed him away but just that wasn't enough. She wanted to punish him for making her feel this way, for making her lose control and just a push wasn't enough. Her fist was already clenched in fury and she swung her right one up in a right arm hook, smirking in satisfaction as she felt the hard impact of hitting his jaw in her knuckles. The action was oddly reminiscent of his with the assassin, but Zoya had been too absorbed to really notice. Shooting a mocking smile at him, she marched a few steps away and dissapparated with a loud pop sound, thinking of the only place she wanted to be right now.

Michael smirked as she disapparated. She liked the kiss. And it lasted quite long before she pulled away. He could maybe get her even sooner than he planned this way. With that smirk, he went to the kitchen for another cookies, watching that silly muggle game of hers.