Imagines and One-Shots (Book Three)

Free Parking (Michael Clifford) - Part 1

requested by amethystpanda6 on tumblr

prompt i used: "You're the bastard who keeps parking right in front of my house so I retaliated by keying your car and you caught me"

~

Thirteen.

This was the thirteenth time this month that your neighbor's damn friend kept parking in your spot.

You liked to think you were a pretty chill person when it came to things like this.

The first time it happened, you were a little ticked off, but you just had to remind yourself that it was a car you didn't recognize so they clearly didn't know it was your spot. The second time, you felt that little bubble of annoyance in your chest, but you simply left a note under the windshield wiper – a nice one, mind you – but that clearly wasn't enough either. The third time, you happened to pull onto your street just as the driver was pulling out of the spot, also noticing that someone was waving to them from the sidewalk.

You and Calum weren't super close by any means, but you still considered him to be a friend. So you had no problem rolling your window down as you pulled up to the curb and shouting his name. He stopped walking to look over his shoulder, finding you getting out of your car. You briefly greeted each other before you asked him to tell his friend – Michael, you learned his name was – to stop parking in your spot if he was going to coming over so much. He promised you he would, also apologizing for any problems it may have caused you. You knew Calum was a trustworthy person, so you knew that, when you saw Michael's car in your spot two days later, you knew the war had officially begun.

It started off with passive-aggressive notes on the windshield – much more...colorful language...this time around – which obviously yielded no results. It then escalated to threatening him that you would call the cops if he didn't knock it off and give your spot back. But now, what kind of story would it be if he just gave up?

The thirteenth time Michael had parked his car in your spot was the final straw. You parked your car on the next street over – just like you'd been forced to do for nearly three weeks now – and walked back to your building. You didn't go inside though – you simply walked to Michael's car, sat yourself down on the blacktopped street beside the driver's side door, pulled out your keys, and got to work.

You were only a few scratches in when you heard a door close on the other side of the car, but you didn't stop; You knew who it was going to be just by the sounds of the buckles on the leather jacket he was always wearing.

"Um... What are you doing?" you suddenly heard behind you. You looked over your shoulder, finding the car's owner – the current bane of your existence – watching you with wide eyes.

"I'm making art," you stated, turning back to the car door and continuing to run your key all over it, "And I decided that this will be my canvas."

"This is my car!" Michael exclaimed.

"Annoying and obvious," you smiled to yourself, "I like it."

"Why are you keying my car?!"

"You're in my spot," you replied dryly.

"No, I'm not!"

"You see the number right underneath the front bumper?" you asked, turning his attention to the white '274' painted on the pavement, "My spot." The blonde looked back at you, the same wide-eyed look on his face.

"This is a little much, don't you think?!" he shook his head.

"I've left notes on your car and told Calum to tell you to stop parking here," you reminded him, "If you chose to continue ignoring it, that's not my problem."