Chapter 4 ~ Picasso Monahan

With Bailey getting tired of carrying Mr. Michigan, Picasso takes over the job, and gets exactly what he wants - bonding time with his crush

Chapter 4 ~ Picasso Monahan

I try to pay as little attention to Bailey carrying Mr. Michigan in his arms as I can. The last thing I want to admit to anyone is that I'm jealous; that I want to carry Mr. Michigan. Such a handsome prince. It's not even just his gorgeous appearance that amazes me. It's also his personality; he's so shy, and very kind and sweet. I enjoy seeing him flustered, to be honest.

A long while into this frustrating walk to find a nice bedroom that we can safely sleep in for the night with absolutely no interruptions from any of Amherst's boys, I see Bailey's shoulders sag.

"Hang on, I'm tired," he pants. "Let me just put you down for a second, Mr. Michigan."

The Frenchman places the Australian prince down, helping him rest his weight on his non-injured leg, then leaning him against his shoulder for a moment. This makes me mad on the inside, my heart racing.

"Hey!," I cry, running over to Bailey. "Why'd you put him down? Is that any way to treat injured royalty?"

Bailey sighs, mumbling something in French under his breath, as Nathaniel stands in the background smirking slightly. Mr. Michigan gives me a shocked look, his Amber eyes wide.

"Non, you royal pain in the a*s," Bailey finally says out loud and in English. "I was just putting him down for a minute. I'm not making him walk."

I sigh. "Well, if you're tired, then I'll carry him," I purr, watching Mr. Michigan's face turn bright red.

Bailey purses his lips. "Okay," he answers, earning a laugh from Nathaniel.

Smiling, I help Bailey transfer Mr. Michigan into my arms. Once he's safe with me, I let Bailey and Nathaniel go ahead of us a little, chattering in gleeful French with each other, not that I speak enough French to know what they're saying.

"Hey there, Clarence," I whisper.

Mr. Michigan looks away from me, his red face becoming crimson. "Mr. Michigan, please," he mutters.

I chuckle. "Heh. Alright, Mr. Michigan," I purr, happy to be getting what I want. "So, how are you doing?"

Mr. Michigan looks back at me, his eyes glowering to show that he's upset. "My leg has a huge bullethole in it, and I'm tired," he whines.

I frown. "So, you're cranky?," I answer.

Mr. Michigan simply nods.

I flick my strawberry red bangs out of my eyes. "Well, there's a pretty simple cure to calm down cranky people," I say. "You ought to go to sleep."

Mr. Michigan sighs, staring off at nothing in particular. "You're right," he agrees.

I make sure to walk a little slower, muttering calming things for a second to calm down Mr. Michigan, keeping watch on Bailey and Nathaniel to make sure we don't get lost. And within time, Mr. Michigan falls fast asleep.

Realizing that I'm very far behind, Nathaniel and Bailey turn around and stop walking. "Hey Picasso!," Nathaniel says. "What's the holdup, you slowpoke?"

I smile, looking from Mr. Michigan to Nathan. "Shh, keep it down," I whisper. "He's asleep."

Bailey smirks, as he and Nathaniel look to each other, almost knowingly. "Of course," he says softly, as not to wake up the sleeping Prince in my arms. "Well, there's a room where Sleeping Beauty can rest his leg for a spell. The three of us should probably get some sleep as well."

I nod, as Nathaniel pushes a door to his left opened, and the three of us head in. Very carefully and gently, I place Mr. Michigan on the bed, brushing back his silky hair, and taking off his beret and glasses. As I tuck him in, I notice how weak and helpless he looks. Poor guy; hopefully he gets better soon.

Nathaniel and Bailey must be really tired; they both sit down on the couch, already beginning to drift off. Neither of them even bother with turning off the lights.

Quietly so I won't disturb either of them or Mr. Michigan, I cross over to the lamp, reaching under and turning it off, leaving us in the dark so we'll be able to sleep.

Collapsing on the couch beside Bailey, I sigh, deciding I'm not so tired just yet. Thinking about sad Mr. Michigan is keeping me up. Taking out my phone, I play around on it for a while before my eyes get droopy, and I'm finally tired. When this happens, I slide my phone back in my pocket, and close my eyes, falling asleep along with everyone else.