FIC: "Home Fires" [crossover FatF/Transformers; Mia/Mikaela]
Title: Home Fires
Fandom: crossover The Fast and the Furious/Transformers
Pairing: Mia/Mikaela, mentions of Mia/Letty
Rating: Mature
Warning: sex between consenting adult women
Word Count: 2398
Summary: Mia wants more than she‘s supposed to have.
A/N: Takes place before FatF 4 and Transformers 2.
**
Mia wasn’t supposed to want. Life taught her that. The hard way.
“Take what you have,” Dom had said one time. “And enjoy it. Wanting something you ain’t never gonna get just makes you bitter and hard.”
But Mia was already bitter, already hard. And guilty. Oh did Mia feel guilty. Guilty for wanting a boyfriend who was neither a criminal nor a cop and getting both, then not at all. Guilty for wanting a life of her own, one that didn’t revolve around cars, or racing, or Dom. Guilty for wanting her brother in jail rather than on the run, and Mia with no idea where he was.
Because, in the end, Dom got what he wanted - his freedom. His freedom and Letty, and the only family Mia’s ever known suddenly gone. All Mia got was the greasy spoon their parents left them. The greasy spoon that lost two-thirds of its customers when Dom disappeared. A greasy spoon Mia can’t fill and a house with mortgage payments she’s having a hard paying.
Mia sat at the kitchen table in the house she’d lived in all her life and was probably going to lose. The house that used to be filled with Dom’s friends. The ones that weren’t dead or in jail that don’t come around anymore because Dom’s not here. She sat at the kitchen table staring at the birthday cake she had to buy herself. The one with no candles because a cake was all Mia could afford.
She was twenty-nine now. In a year, she’d be thirty. It didn’t make Mia feel old as much as wasted. All her little girl dreams and hopes and wishes, turned to pragmatism, cynicism, bitterness.
Suddenly, Mia started to.. want. She wanted more, she wanted better, she wanted a life that wasn’t her own because, surely, anything was better than this.
There were tears in her eyes but before they could fall her fingers were gripping her keys. She was out the door like a shot and driving. Driving to the garage the police didn’t know about. Fingers gripping the tarp draped over the car that would get her thrown in jail. This was Dom’s life but she and Dom were inexorably linked as families always are. Dom’s life was Mia’s life - four wheels, chrome and polish, grease and leather.
Mia shivered as the engine roared to life, the sudden visceral thrill of horse power rumbling beneath and through her. She didn’t know what else she wanted just, right now, Mia wanted to be bad. Wanted to be the one who did what she wanted and to Hell with the consequences. So, she dropped the clutch and shot out of the garage like a bat out of Hell.
LA disappeared behind her. Mia raced through the back roads she knew like the back of her hand. She drove until the sky went from orange to blue to black. Until the lights of LA were nothing but twinkling stars in her rear-view mirror, the air whipping about her face, the engine purring like a big cat.
For the first time in a very long time, Mia felt free. Unburdened by her life, by the choices she didn’t make, the choices made for her. Mia drove to Las Vegas, she drove back to LA, she drove up the Pacific Coast Highway, sticking her hand out the window, watching as her fingers surfed the air. She drove until the gas meter was in the red and the annoying ticking sound under the engine turned into a clank she couldn’t ignore.
It was after 3am by the time Mia limped back into LA. Streams of smoke coughed from under the hood like a horse on its last legs.
She stopped in front of the first garage with a light still on. Her balled hand lingered before the door adjacent to the garage, the familiar sounds of metal clanking and tools ratcheting sounded like home.
“We’re closed,” came a voice after Mia began pounding on the metal door. So Mia pounded again and again until the metal clanking stopped replaced with the sounds of shoes stomping heavily on cement.
“Jesus Christ,” the door yanked open and Mia found herself staring into pale blue eyes. Angry pale blue eyes. “I said we’re fucking closed!”
“My car broke down and your light was on.”
“So? Call a tow truck.”
“I can’t afford a tow. How long do you think I’m going to last in this neighborhood driving that?” Mia pointed towards the car behind her. Surprised it hadn’t been stripped down to the frame in the minute it had been parked there. “Look, I don’t need a mechanic. I can fix it myself. I just need to borrow a couple tools for a second.”
Mikaela folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You a mechanic?”
“No, I just know cars. I also know if I don‘t get this back on the road quickly, I‘m not going to have one.”
Appeased, or at least curious there’d been a twinge of recognition in the young woman’s eyes, something Mia had seen before on numerous occasions. The kind of look one gives when they recognize someone but can’t pinpoint where. Mikaela turned on her heel and headed deeper into the garage. “All right, bring her in.”
“What’s your name?” Mia asked as she rolled the car into the garage.
“Mikaela.”
“Mia.”
“She’s gorgeous,” Mikaela said, running her hand over a fender like a lover’s caress. “What do you do to afford a car like this?”
“I don’t,” Mia chuckled, popping the hood and sliding out of the driver’s seat. “It’s my brother’s.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He runs,” Mia answered, not realizing what she’d said until the words had already fallen from her lips.
Mikaela stayed silent. Recognized the words for what they were - old wounds unintentional ripped open. She had her fair share of those. She did what she always did, concentrated on what she loved - cars. She propped open the hood, hands on the frame as she bent over the engine.
Mia walked around to the front of the car and, just like that, thoughts of Dom and the past and the pain were gone. Overdressed in her jeans and t-shirt compared to Mikaela’s barely there denim shorts and baby tee that covered the essentials. She was tanned skin and long legs, smelling of grease and sweat, of youthful naivety and not-quite-sure what to do with it sexuality. It reminded Mia of a time not so long ago when it was Mia, young and naïve, bent over a car engine with someone she didn’t quite expect staring at her ass.
My, Mia thought, how times have changed.
“Are you staring at my ass?” Mikaela eyed her coy-like from under the hood.
“You kinda make it hard not to. I‘ve seen longer shorts on strippers.”
Mikaela laughed. “You sound like my Dad.”
“Good, because for a moment there I thought I sounded like my brother.”
“Looks like you got a busted radiator cap.”
“You got a spare?” Mia asked, not mentioning that she was supposed to be the one fixing her car.
“Yeah,” Mikaela pulled herself out from under the hood, wiping her grease stained hands on her shorts. “But it’ll cost ya.”
“Oh yeah, how much?”
“Let me take her for a spin?”
“Only if you’re buying the gas.”
“Okay. But only if you buy the beer.”
“How old are you?”
“Old enough to know that, at the moment, you need a radiator cap more than you need your morals.”
**
Mia and Mikaela sat on the hood of Mia’s car and watched the moon dissolve into the ocean on a bluff overlooking the Pacific somewhere north of the Mexican border.
Mia was not drunk. She was NOT drunk. She was no longer the ‘light weight’ of her youth. It took more than a couple beers to get her buzzed these days.
She didn’t feel drunk, or buzzed. She felt dirty. Good dirty. Bad dirty. Passing Mikaela the last beer, corrupting today’s youth, kinda dirty. And suddenly, the late night conversations with Letty took on an entirely new meaning.
“We could keep driving you know,” Mia broke the silence as Mikaela passed the beer back to her. “Go down into Mexico. Have adventures or misadventures. Just.. keep driving.”
Mikaela was silent for a moment. “I can’t,” she finally said, a weary defeated tone in her voice Mia recognized all too well.
“Yeah, I guess not,” Mia sighed, taking another sip and passing the bottle back to Mikaela. “Today‘s my birthday, you know.”
“No shit,” Mikaela huffed as she took another sip. “I’m not a virgin, you know.”
“What?”
“Just in case this is all part of some cherry popping birthday fantasy of yours.”
Mia laughed, taking back the bottle from Mikaela. “Believe me, it’s not.”
“Oh.” Mia ignored the disappointed tone in Mikaela’s voice, focusing on downing the last of the beer. “You are trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”
Mia set the bottle back into the box with the rest of the empties, turning and focusing all her attentions on Mikaela. “Do you want me to seduce you?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question. It, like, breaks the rules or something.”
“I thought you have a boyfriend.”
“I do. But he’s leaving for college next month, all the way to the East Coast.”
“Why aren’t you going with him?”
“Why didn’t you leave with Dom?”
Mia chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Touche.”
“It’s like they say,” Mikaela sighed. “Somebody has to keep the home fires burning.”
Mia placed a hand on Mikaela’s thigh, fingers drifting dangerously high until they were brushing against frayed denim. “Is that what you want me to do? Keep your home fires burning?”
Mikaela’s eyes fluttered close, tongue licking surreptitiously across her lips. “Something like that.”
Mia leaned in, pressed her lips against Mikaela’s. The slow burn inside Mia went supernova. She didn’t just want to seduce Mikaela, she wanted to consume her, possess her, with lips and hands and tongue and fingers. Hand threading into Mikaela’s hair, holding her in place as Mia jutted her tongue into Mikaela’s mouth, hips sliding between Mikaela’s legs, pressing against her crotch, heat against grinding heat.
“Wait,” Mikaela groaned. She placed her hands on Mia’s shoulders, pressing just hard enough to make Mia stop. “Can we..” she twitched sheepishly, “not do it in front of the car. It’s a thing.”
Mia was too turned on to question or argue. The blanket stowed in the trunk was spread out behind a tree with a view that overlooked the ocean. Not that either were particularly interested in the view. Clothes were pulled off and tossed into the grass, skin pressed against skin, lips against lips. Mia kissed Mikaela, kissed her like she was supposed to be kissed, like she deserved to be kissed. Drew her fingers down soft and supple skin, parted and slid into no-longer-a-virgin. Old enough to know how, still inexperienced to not know how much, how good it could be. Mia was more than eager to show her.
Lips and tongue replaced fingers. Palms pressed against inner thighs, holding her open, keeping her still, keeping Mikaela where Mia wanted her. Warm and wet and no longer a virgin but tight enough to still be. Mia licked Mikaela until she moaned, sucked until she screamed, fucked until she cried out. She wasn’t Mikaela’s first, she wouldn’t be her last but Mia would make damn sure she’d be memorable.
Because tonight, Mia would be selfish, think about only herself, take what she desired, get what *she* wanted and to hell with what everyone thought or expected of her, to hell with the consequences.
Two finger became three then four and Mikaela squirmed.
“Mia,” Mikaela whimpered, a panicked edge in her voice.
“Shh,” Mia whispered. “Just relax.”
Mia took her time, slow and gentle and patient, like Letty had been with her. The memories washed over her like a tide of sin. That first time on a mattress in the back of the garage; the two of them sweaty and hot and horny as hell, a taboo broken and the words left unspoken. Mia didn’t understand then but she understood now.
She watched as Mikaela came. Watched as *she* did this to her - made her come and scream and writhe and tremble. As a world of possibilities and understandings flashed in Mikaela’s eyes, wondered if she looked that *young* to Letty as Mikaela did to Mia.
She kissed her way up Mikaela’s still trembling body, snuggling against her and wrapping the blanket around the two of them. Brushed her lips against the tear welling in Mikaela’s eye.
“I..” Michaela stammered softly. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
“We never do,” Mia mumbled quietly.
**
It was mid-morning by the time Mia and Mikaela dressed and headed back towards the city. They drove in silence, fingers threaded together and resting on the seat between them.
“I don’t know what to say,” Mikaela said as Mia pulled the car towards the garage.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Mia brought their entwined hands to her lips, kissing the back of Mikaela’s knuckles. “It was what it was. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“What if I want..” her gaze turned towards the garage. “More?”
“The only one stopping you is you.”
“Maybe,” Mikaela lowered her head and inhaled deeply.
“Listen,” Mia slid her fingers from Mikaela’s, wrapping them around the steering wheel. “I own a restaurant. If you’re ever in the mood for a burger or just wanna talk, come on down.”
“You don’t look like the burger and conversation type.”
“Who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise you.”
“Maybe,” Mikaela turned towards Mia, the light back in her eyes. “I’ll surprise you.”
She leaned over, pressing her lips to Mia’s. The kiss was soft and lingering. Mia ended it with a light flicker of her tongue across Mikaela’s lips. “Maybe,” Mia smiled.
She waited and watched as Mikaela exited from the car, hands sliding into the back pockets of her shorts as she made her way towards the garage. A spring in her step and Mia smiled at the thought of putting it there.
At the thought of keeping Mikaela’s home fires burning.
END
A/N #2: Honestly, this was supposed to be a simple PWP of the 'you're hot, let's fuck' variety. I just started thing about the end to FatF and pre-Transformers 2 and how both Mia and Mikaela were kinda left behind.
Fandom: crossover The Fast and the Furious/Transformers
Pairing: Mia/Mikaela, mentions of Mia/Letty
Rating: Mature
Warning: sex between consenting adult women
Word Count: 2398
Summary: Mia wants more than she‘s supposed to have.
A/N: Takes place before FatF 4 and Transformers 2.
**
Mia wasn’t supposed to want. Life taught her that. The hard way.
“Take what you have,” Dom had said one time. “And enjoy it. Wanting something you ain’t never gonna get just makes you bitter and hard.”
But Mia was already bitter, already hard. And guilty. Oh did Mia feel guilty. Guilty for wanting a boyfriend who was neither a criminal nor a cop and getting both, then not at all. Guilty for wanting a life of her own, one that didn’t revolve around cars, or racing, or Dom. Guilty for wanting her brother in jail rather than on the run, and Mia with no idea where he was.
Because, in the end, Dom got what he wanted - his freedom. His freedom and Letty, and the only family Mia’s ever known suddenly gone. All Mia got was the greasy spoon their parents left them. The greasy spoon that lost two-thirds of its customers when Dom disappeared. A greasy spoon Mia can’t fill and a house with mortgage payments she’s having a hard paying.
Mia sat at the kitchen table in the house she’d lived in all her life and was probably going to lose. The house that used to be filled with Dom’s friends. The ones that weren’t dead or in jail that don’t come around anymore because Dom’s not here. She sat at the kitchen table staring at the birthday cake she had to buy herself. The one with no candles because a cake was all Mia could afford.
She was twenty-nine now. In a year, she’d be thirty. It didn’t make Mia feel old as much as wasted. All her little girl dreams and hopes and wishes, turned to pragmatism, cynicism, bitterness.
Suddenly, Mia started to.. want. She wanted more, she wanted better, she wanted a life that wasn’t her own because, surely, anything was better than this.
There were tears in her eyes but before they could fall her fingers were gripping her keys. She was out the door like a shot and driving. Driving to the garage the police didn’t know about. Fingers gripping the tarp draped over the car that would get her thrown in jail. This was Dom’s life but she and Dom were inexorably linked as families always are. Dom’s life was Mia’s life - four wheels, chrome and polish, grease and leather.
Mia shivered as the engine roared to life, the sudden visceral thrill of horse power rumbling beneath and through her. She didn’t know what else she wanted just, right now, Mia wanted to be bad. Wanted to be the one who did what she wanted and to Hell with the consequences. So, she dropped the clutch and shot out of the garage like a bat out of Hell.
LA disappeared behind her. Mia raced through the back roads she knew like the back of her hand. She drove until the sky went from orange to blue to black. Until the lights of LA were nothing but twinkling stars in her rear-view mirror, the air whipping about her face, the engine purring like a big cat.
For the first time in a very long time, Mia felt free. Unburdened by her life, by the choices she didn’t make, the choices made for her. Mia drove to Las Vegas, she drove back to LA, she drove up the Pacific Coast Highway, sticking her hand out the window, watching as her fingers surfed the air. She drove until the gas meter was in the red and the annoying ticking sound under the engine turned into a clank she couldn’t ignore.
It was after 3am by the time Mia limped back into LA. Streams of smoke coughed from under the hood like a horse on its last legs.
She stopped in front of the first garage with a light still on. Her balled hand lingered before the door adjacent to the garage, the familiar sounds of metal clanking and tools ratcheting sounded like home.
“We’re closed,” came a voice after Mia began pounding on the metal door. So Mia pounded again and again until the metal clanking stopped replaced with the sounds of shoes stomping heavily on cement.
“Jesus Christ,” the door yanked open and Mia found herself staring into pale blue eyes. Angry pale blue eyes. “I said we’re fucking closed!”
“My car broke down and your light was on.”
“So? Call a tow truck.”
“I can’t afford a tow. How long do you think I’m going to last in this neighborhood driving that?” Mia pointed towards the car behind her. Surprised it hadn’t been stripped down to the frame in the minute it had been parked there. “Look, I don’t need a mechanic. I can fix it myself. I just need to borrow a couple tools for a second.”
Mikaela folded her arms across her chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You a mechanic?”
“No, I just know cars. I also know if I don‘t get this back on the road quickly, I‘m not going to have one.”
Appeased, or at least curious there’d been a twinge of recognition in the young woman’s eyes, something Mia had seen before on numerous occasions. The kind of look one gives when they recognize someone but can’t pinpoint where. Mikaela turned on her heel and headed deeper into the garage. “All right, bring her in.”
“What’s your name?” Mia asked as she rolled the car into the garage.
“Mikaela.”
“Mia.”
“She’s gorgeous,” Mikaela said, running her hand over a fender like a lover’s caress. “What do you do to afford a car like this?”
“I don’t,” Mia chuckled, popping the hood and sliding out of the driver’s seat. “It’s my brother’s.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He runs,” Mia answered, not realizing what she’d said until the words had already fallen from her lips.
Mikaela stayed silent. Recognized the words for what they were - old wounds unintentional ripped open. She had her fair share of those. She did what she always did, concentrated on what she loved - cars. She propped open the hood, hands on the frame as she bent over the engine.
Mia walked around to the front of the car and, just like that, thoughts of Dom and the past and the pain were gone. Overdressed in her jeans and t-shirt compared to Mikaela’s barely there denim shorts and baby tee that covered the essentials. She was tanned skin and long legs, smelling of grease and sweat, of youthful naivety and not-quite-sure what to do with it sexuality. It reminded Mia of a time not so long ago when it was Mia, young and naïve, bent over a car engine with someone she didn’t quite expect staring at her ass.
My, Mia thought, how times have changed.
“Are you staring at my ass?” Mikaela eyed her coy-like from under the hood.
“You kinda make it hard not to. I‘ve seen longer shorts on strippers.”
Mikaela laughed. “You sound like my Dad.”
“Good, because for a moment there I thought I sounded like my brother.”
“Looks like you got a busted radiator cap.”
“You got a spare?” Mia asked, not mentioning that she was supposed to be the one fixing her car.
“Yeah,” Mikaela pulled herself out from under the hood, wiping her grease stained hands on her shorts. “But it’ll cost ya.”
“Oh yeah, how much?”
“Let me take her for a spin?”
“Only if you’re buying the gas.”
“Okay. But only if you buy the beer.”
“How old are you?”
“Old enough to know that, at the moment, you need a radiator cap more than you need your morals.”
**
Mia and Mikaela sat on the hood of Mia’s car and watched the moon dissolve into the ocean on a bluff overlooking the Pacific somewhere north of the Mexican border.
Mia was not drunk. She was NOT drunk. She was no longer the ‘light weight’ of her youth. It took more than a couple beers to get her buzzed these days.
She didn’t feel drunk, or buzzed. She felt dirty. Good dirty. Bad dirty. Passing Mikaela the last beer, corrupting today’s youth, kinda dirty. And suddenly, the late night conversations with Letty took on an entirely new meaning.
“We could keep driving you know,” Mia broke the silence as Mikaela passed the beer back to her. “Go down into Mexico. Have adventures or misadventures. Just.. keep driving.”
Mikaela was silent for a moment. “I can’t,” she finally said, a weary defeated tone in her voice Mia recognized all too well.
“Yeah, I guess not,” Mia sighed, taking another sip and passing the bottle back to Mikaela. “Today‘s my birthday, you know.”
“No shit,” Mikaela huffed as she took another sip. “I’m not a virgin, you know.”
“What?”
“Just in case this is all part of some cherry popping birthday fantasy of yours.”
Mia laughed, taking back the bottle from Mikaela. “Believe me, it’s not.”
“Oh.” Mia ignored the disappointed tone in Mikaela’s voice, focusing on downing the last of the beer. “You are trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”
Mia set the bottle back into the box with the rest of the empties, turning and focusing all her attentions on Mikaela. “Do you want me to seduce you?”
“You can’t answer a question with a question. It, like, breaks the rules or something.”
“I thought you have a boyfriend.”
“I do. But he’s leaving for college next month, all the way to the East Coast.”
“Why aren’t you going with him?”
“Why didn’t you leave with Dom?”
Mia chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Touche.”
“It’s like they say,” Mikaela sighed. “Somebody has to keep the home fires burning.”
Mia placed a hand on Mikaela’s thigh, fingers drifting dangerously high until they were brushing against frayed denim. “Is that what you want me to do? Keep your home fires burning?”
Mikaela’s eyes fluttered close, tongue licking surreptitiously across her lips. “Something like that.”
Mia leaned in, pressed her lips against Mikaela’s. The slow burn inside Mia went supernova. She didn’t just want to seduce Mikaela, she wanted to consume her, possess her, with lips and hands and tongue and fingers. Hand threading into Mikaela’s hair, holding her in place as Mia jutted her tongue into Mikaela’s mouth, hips sliding between Mikaela’s legs, pressing against her crotch, heat against grinding heat.
“Wait,” Mikaela groaned. She placed her hands on Mia’s shoulders, pressing just hard enough to make Mia stop. “Can we..” she twitched sheepishly, “not do it in front of the car. It’s a thing.”
Mia was too turned on to question or argue. The blanket stowed in the trunk was spread out behind a tree with a view that overlooked the ocean. Not that either were particularly interested in the view. Clothes were pulled off and tossed into the grass, skin pressed against skin, lips against lips. Mia kissed Mikaela, kissed her like she was supposed to be kissed, like she deserved to be kissed. Drew her fingers down soft and supple skin, parted and slid into no-longer-a-virgin. Old enough to know how, still inexperienced to not know how much, how good it could be. Mia was more than eager to show her.
Lips and tongue replaced fingers. Palms pressed against inner thighs, holding her open, keeping her still, keeping Mikaela where Mia wanted her. Warm and wet and no longer a virgin but tight enough to still be. Mia licked Mikaela until she moaned, sucked until she screamed, fucked until she cried out. She wasn’t Mikaela’s first, she wouldn’t be her last but Mia would make damn sure she’d be memorable.
Because tonight, Mia would be selfish, think about only herself, take what she desired, get what *she* wanted and to hell with what everyone thought or expected of her, to hell with the consequences.
Two finger became three then four and Mikaela squirmed.
“Mia,” Mikaela whimpered, a panicked edge in her voice.
“Shh,” Mia whispered. “Just relax.”
Mia took her time, slow and gentle and patient, like Letty had been with her. The memories washed over her like a tide of sin. That first time on a mattress in the back of the garage; the two of them sweaty and hot and horny as hell, a taboo broken and the words left unspoken. Mia didn’t understand then but she understood now.
She watched as Mikaela came. Watched as *she* did this to her - made her come and scream and writhe and tremble. As a world of possibilities and understandings flashed in Mikaela’s eyes, wondered if she looked that *young* to Letty as Mikaela did to Mia.
She kissed her way up Mikaela’s still trembling body, snuggling against her and wrapping the blanket around the two of them. Brushed her lips against the tear welling in Mikaela’s eye.
“I..” Michaela stammered softly. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”
“We never do,” Mia mumbled quietly.
**
It was mid-morning by the time Mia and Mikaela dressed and headed back towards the city. They drove in silence, fingers threaded together and resting on the seat between them.
“I don’t know what to say,” Mikaela said as Mia pulled the car towards the garage.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Mia brought their entwined hands to her lips, kissing the back of Mikaela’s knuckles. “It was what it was. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“What if I want..” her gaze turned towards the garage. “More?”
“The only one stopping you is you.”
“Maybe,” Mikaela lowered her head and inhaled deeply.
“Listen,” Mia slid her fingers from Mikaela’s, wrapping them around the steering wheel. “I own a restaurant. If you’re ever in the mood for a burger or just wanna talk, come on down.”
“You don’t look like the burger and conversation type.”
“Who knows? Maybe I’ll surprise you.”
“Maybe,” Mikaela turned towards Mia, the light back in her eyes. “I’ll surprise you.”
She leaned over, pressing her lips to Mia’s. The kiss was soft and lingering. Mia ended it with a light flicker of her tongue across Mikaela’s lips. “Maybe,” Mia smiled.
She waited and watched as Mikaela exited from the car, hands sliding into the back pockets of her shorts as she made her way towards the garage. A spring in her step and Mia smiled at the thought of putting it there.
At the thought of keeping Mikaela’s home fires burning.
END
A/N #2: Honestly, this was supposed to be a simple PWP of the 'you're hot, let's fuck' variety. I just started thing about the end to FatF and pre-Transformers 2 and how both Mia and Mikaela were kinda left behind.