Malachi Barton Imagines pt.2

You were mad.
Not "throw things" mad... but definitely "don't-even-breathe-near-me-right-now" mad.

Malachi knew.
He kept peeking around corners like you were a wild animal he didn't want to spook.

You crossed your arms.
"I'm serious, Mal. You're sleeping on the couch tonight."

His eyes widened like you'd told him he was being exiled from the family.

"The COUCH?" he repeated, horrified. "That... that thing? That lumpy, squeaky, uncomfortable rectangle of torture in the living room?"

You nodded.
"Yep."

He clutched his heart.
"Babe. Please. I already said I was sorry."

"You said you were sorry," you corrected. "But you also posted that TikTok of me snoring without asking."

He hid his face. "It was cute..."

"It was blackmail material."

Malachi shuffled closer, hands behind his back, eyes softening in that "I'm a sad puppy, forgive me" way he totally fake-mastered.

"Look," he said gently, "I will delete all the videos. The TikTok. The drafts. The backups. The screenshots."

"Screenshots?" you snapped.

He froze.
"...Did I say screenshots? I meant... memories. Delete the memories."

You turned around so he wouldn't see you almost laugh.
He followed you like a shadow.

Then he tried the final move:
Arms slipping around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.

"Come on, baby..." he whispered softly. "I can't sleep without you. I literally can't. I tried once and woke up sideways on the floor."

"That's a you problem."

"I am the you problem."

You sighed, leaning slightly back into him even though you were trying to stay mad.

He gently swayed you, like a slow dance.

"I messed up," he murmured into your neck. "But don't make me sleep alone. I'll be sad. And cold. And emotionally damaged. And—"

"Mal."

"And I'll text you from the couch asking if you still love me."

You groaned. "Fine! You're not sleeping on the couch."

He lifted his head instantly. "Really?"

"Really."

Malachi brightened like he'd just won a trophy.

"But," you warned, "you are deleting the video."

"Yes, ma'am." He grabbed your hand dramatically. "Thank you for sparing me from the couch. I won't forget this mercy."

You rolled your eyes. "You're so dramatic."

He smirked, pulling you toward the bedroom.
"You love it."