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“You fucking idiot!”
Michael was pissed.
No, that's a lie. He was beyond pissed. He was fucking infuriated.
The mission was supposed to be an easy one. Go in, distract the guards, steal the money, done. The FAH crew hadn't seen an easy mission in months, what with the loss of Ray - who decided to go solo half-way across the fucking world, feeling that the crew life was too rough for him - and a few rival gangs getting in their way. Lindsay was their current go-to sniper; even if she wasn't of the same caliber as Ray, she did pretty damn well for herself. They had her waiting on the roof of the adorning building, just in case anything went wrong.
And of course, it all went wrong.
Gavin zigged when he was supposed to zag (meaning that instead of distracting the guards by bringing them outside the building, he instead launched a bomb off inside the fucking bank) and nearly burnt them both to toast by setting the whole building ablaze. It was only by pure fucking luck that the two had managed to get out of the building relatively unscathed, minus some minor bruises and burns, Gavin cackling along the way. Michael had to practically tackle the idiot out of the way of the flames as it went up in smokes.
“I'm going to fucking kill you, I swear. I'm going to fucking murder you and then roast your insides over the fire like marshmallows!” The auburn-haired lad fumed, dragging Gavin as far away from the building as he could manage into the small alleyway while the other still chortled gleefully.
“Why, Michael? That was bloody brill! It went off pretty top if you ask me,” Gavin stated, a relaxed grin taking over his features.
Michael really, really wanted to punch that stupid smile off his face at that moment.
“It wasn't 'bloody brill', you British twink! It was fucking stupid is what it was! You went totally against the fucking plan and almost took us both out because of it!” He fumed, pointing his gun at Gavin with no real intention to shoot him. “I swear, I should just fucking kill you right now!”
“Oi, Micool, watch where you're aiming that thing!” Gavin squawked. “You're likely to take my eye out or something, you mong!”
“Oh, I'm not going to actually shoot you, you overdramatic ass-”
He was cut off as a bang rang through the alleyway.
It had been a lucky shot by the rent-a-cop. A really fucking lucky one. One that nicked arteries and smashed through organs as it hit. Gavin hadn't been expecting it, like most who were shot, and was sent flying to the ground in a flurry of blood and gravel. Michael stood frozen for a moment, staring at the place his boi had been not even a minute before, arguing with him over almost fucking up the heist.
But now?
Now he was rushing over towards the wall, completely ignoring the asshole that shot Gavin. Now he was leaning down to assess the damage as Gavin leaned himself up against the wall behind him, crying out in pain as it pulled at his injury. Now he was pushing down on the blood covered shirt of his lover, trying to literally stop the life from leaving his body as the red liquid pumped out steadily with every breath the British moron took.
Michael could feel the whine building up in the back of his throat as he pushed down harder, ignoring the cry Gavin released. The tears were pooling behind deep russet eyes as he took off his jacket, hands shaking as he tugged the leather off his shoulders to also press against the wound.
“Jesus – Micool! T-that bloody h-hurts, you twat,” Gavin groaned, eyes fluttering as he tried to keep himself awake.
“Of course it fucking hurts, you asshole! You got fucking shot,” the auburn haired lad mumbled, reaching for his earpiece to turn it back on. “Geoff, we need someone down here now. Gavin's been shot.”
“What?!” Geoff's voice broke on the vowel of the word and Michael could clearly hear the screeching of tires as their leader most likely hauled ass out of his current location to get to them.
“What do you mean he's been shot?!” Jeremy shouted.
“What the fuck do you think I mean, he's fucking bleeding out on the concrete! We need help now!”
“I'm closest to your location,” chimed in Jack, her voice calm despite the dire situation. “I'll be there soon. Keep him awake, Michael. Don't let him fall asleep.”
“I-I can hear you... quite clearly, Jack,” Gavin piped in, Michael unaware that the other lad had reached up to turn his on when he did.
“Good, then you know what to do, Gav. Don't fall asleep,” Jack spoke gently, that motherly-tone of her's that her enemies didn't know existed coming through.
“I certainly don't p-plan on it,” Gavin gasped as Michael put more pressure down on the wound. God, he was losing a lot of blood...
“Michael, the shooter. Did you get them?” Ryan finally joined the conversation, voice terse as gunshots echoed in the background.
“No, I couldn't -”
“No worries there, Rye-Bread,” came Lindsay's cool and composed voice over the speaker. “I got the asshole. Michael, just worry about our boy there.”
“No problems there. Signing out.”
Michael clicked off his piece, watching as Gavin did the same with a groan. Now they just needed to wait patiently; something Michael wasn't too good at doing. Especially the being patient part...
“How're you holding up there, buddy?” Michael questioned, trying to keep Gavin's focus on him.
“Bloody hurts, Michael,” Gavin whimpered, his pain seemingly allowing him to enunciate the older lad's name clearly, even if he was stumbling over every other word.
Michael snorted. “Of course it hurts, you moron. You were fucking shot. That shit does not tickle. Trust me, you know I know this.”
“Y-yes, I'm well aware,” Gavin grimaced, back his hand with a wince before letting it drop to the ground. “You very well k-know that I never meant to shoot you on that f-first meeting.”
“Sure, baby. Yet you did shoot me. Fucking twice,” Michael smirked shakily, trying to ignore the feeling of Gavin's blood as it seeped through his fingers. It just wouldn't stop.
“W-what can I say? Love at first sight, my l-lovely little Micool,” Gavin said softly with a cheesy sort of grin.
The oldest lad started to grin back in response when he was suddenly being summoned.
“Michael, come in,” came the feminine voice of Jack.
Reaching up, Michael turned his earpiece back on before responding. “I'm here, Jack. Please fucking tell me you're almost here.”
“I've hit a bit of a problem, but I'll be there soon. Police have blocked the road. Jeremy is working on blowing up the barriers, but these assholes aren't letting up-" Jack was interrupted as a loud noise erupted from her side of the line.
Michael winced, resisting the urge to whip out the piece. “What the fuck was that?”
“Holy shit, that was-”
“Fucking awesome, baby!” Came Lindsay's cheer, the sound of explosions coming from her end. “Take a grenade launcher to the face!”
“Lindsay, you are fucking amazing and I owe you a drink. Several drinks. Fuck, I'll buy you a damn bar,” Michael nearly sobbed into the speaker, wincing as Gavin began to cough roughly.
“Just a drink is fine, Michael,” Lindsay giggled. “...And, ya know, half the bounty on your next heist.”
“You and Jack can split it,” Michael promised, turning back to his lover as the boy began to choke on his own blood.
“Mi-” the sandy-haired lad wasn't able to finish his sentence before he started hacking again.
“Gavin, it's okay. It's okay, just breathe. Breathe with me, alright? Just keep breathing with me,” Michael stammered, trying to keep pressure on the wound while concentrating on his own breathing as well as making sure Gavin was still releasing his own.
Gavin took in a ragged, wet-sounding gasp before shaking his head as his eyes started to close. “'m sorry, Micool...”
“What? No!” Michael screamed, even if it was something he would never admit that he did. He shook the Brit to try and keep him awake, attempting to ignore the whine from his boi's throat as he jolted his injury. “No, no, no! You don't get to give me your God damn sorries. You stay the fuck awake. Stay with me, Gavvy.”
Nearly gagging, Gavin tried to grin up at Michael, blue-green eyes unfocused. “ I's.... s'okay, M'coo.”
“No, it's not fucking okay!” The red-headed lad shook his head fiercely, the tears now dripping down his face and onto Gavin's once pristine collared shirt. “You aren't allowed to die. You are not allowed to go somewhere I can't follow you. If you die, I can't go with you, Gavin! How can I protect you if you're...” He couldn't even finish the sentence.
He felt Gavin reach his hand up, struggling to lift it to Michael's cheek. Grasping onto the still warm palm, he laid it against his skin with a small shake of his head. Gavin could only grin up at him, teeth bloody as he tried to ease his boi's fears even as his eyes dimmed somewhat to the pain. “I's alright, love.”
And then his eyes closed.
And Michael's grew larger behind dirty frames.
“Gavin, no! No, no, no, baby, stay with me! Gavin, please!” Michael cried, dropping Gavin's hand as he watched his form go slack in front of him, knowing there was nothing he could do. Keeping his hand pressed to the injury, he drew the lanky body of his lover tighter to him. His free arm wrapped around the bony shoulders of the British lad who had become closer to him than anyone in his entire life, the younger's head falling limply into his shoulder. The only reason he knew that Gavin was still alive was because of his shallow breath hitting the junction at his neck.
He didn't know what to do.
“Help... please. Someone fucking help!”
Help had come in the form of Jack speeding around the corner of the side street in an armored van, Jeremy and Caleb in the back ready to try and stabilize the younger lad before they could get him to the FAH crew's hospital ward – which basically translated to a decrepit looking warehouse in the middle of the desert in Los Santos that was definitely one of those 'better looking on the inside' sort of deals. After carrying their dying teammate into the vehicle, Jeremy and Caleb immediately went to work with what supplies they had to attempt to stop the bleeding and keep him breathing.
He stopped twice during the trip.
It took everything Michael had in him to not scream at the two as they worked to save the younger lad, face pale as he watched them bring him back both times before they finally reached the warehouse. They rushed him out of that van so fast, a group of their B-rank members meeting them at the entrance, that Michael didn't have a chance to say anything before they rushed him into surgery.
Which led him to where he was now, sitting just outside the building with a cigarette held between two fingers as he crouched low to the ground. It was a dirty habit from his solo days; something Gavin hated. Always saying that he tasted like an ashtray. But he wasn't sure what to do at this point. Like before, there was nothing he could do. His boi could be dying, could be dead, and he was sitting outside with his head between his knees trying not to puke on his sneakers.
Things were just so fucking messy.
“Hey, bud.”
Michael looked up, catching a brief glance at the leader of their crew before a piece of material was thrown at his face. Reaching up to pull it down, he blinked as he recognized the light blue shirt in his hands. It was Geoff's.
“Figured you could borrow the shirt 'til we can get you something else to wear. Maybe take you back to the penthouse to grab some of your own shit,” Geoff spoke calmly, as if he wasn't actually blaming Michael for what happened.
“I don't get it.”
Geoff raised an eyebrow, mid-reach to twirl his mustache. “Get what?”
“Why aren't you angry at me? Yelling at me? Kicking me out of the fucking crew with an arrow in my back?”
The oldest gent just shook his head. “I don't understand-”
“It was my fault,” Michael interrupted sullenly.
“What do you mean it was your fault?”
“I mean it was my fucking fault he got shot, Geoff. We were arguing – or, well, more like I was yelling at him and he was just laughing at me – when he got fucking shot. If I had been paying attention, just taking in an ounce of our fucking surroundings, I would have seen that asshole coming and none of this would have damn well happened!”
“Michael...”
“What if he dies, Geoff? What if he fucking dies? He's not supposed to die. We're supposed to – I'm supposed to protect him. Keep his stupid skinny ass safe,” Michael sobs brokenly, the tears now dripping down dirty cheeks to land on his blood covered t-shirt. “What if he dies, Geoff?”
“Hey, you listen here,” Geoff starts, at this point kneeling on the ground alongside the oldest lad, his arm around his shoulders. “Gavin isn't going to die. He's made of stronger stuff than we give him credit for. And if, even if for some God fucking awful reason he did die, it's not your fault. You can't go blaming yourself for this. It could have happened to any of us.”
“But-!”
“No buts, alright? None of that. We can't do anything with buts; besides, that's your's and Gavin's department right there,” Geoff jokes, giving a slight shake to the younger's shoulders. Michael chuckles wetly, reaching underneath his glasses to wipe at this eyes only to stop as he finally notices the blood still caking his fingertips. Geoff notices, too, and proceeds to pull Michael up with him. “Come on, let's go get you cleaned up. Need you to be all nice and shiny for when you see your boy.”
“He's going to be alright.”
Michael vaguely heard voices coming from around him as he dozed in what was the waiting room of the FAH hospital. He had laid down on one of the couches with the intent to just rest his eyes after two days of no sleep and instead had completely fallen asleep. He couldn't have been asleep long, judging by the light in the room.
“You sure? I don't want to get his hopes up only for...”
“Well, I mean, anything can happen, but he's stable and he's been stable.” Caleb spoke gently, probably trying to let him sleep. “The bullet ended up hitting a few arteries and his spleen, which really is what accounted for all the blood loss. We had to perform a complete splenectomy, as well as give him massive amounts of blood to make up for what he'd lost, but he's stable. Heart rate has stayed the same, pressure hasn't dropped. He woke up briefly, very disoriented from the drugs, but immediately asking for Michael.”
“Do you know when he'll wake up again?” Came Jack's voice, soft-spoken as she typically was when not in the middle of a heist.
“Not precisely, but it probably won't be for some time. We gave him some extra painkillers to help with the soreness he'd be feeling. If you guys wanted to go get changed, get some food, whatever, now would be the best time to do it.”
“Alright,” Geoff sighed, voice cracking slightly. “I should probably wake him up and take him home to get cleaned up.”
“I'm awaaaake,” Michael groaned, stretching his limbs to try and take out the slight aches he was feeling.
“You alright, Mikey?” Geoff asked, reaching down to ruffle the red-heads curls.
“I'm fine, just tired... and don't call me 'Mikey',” Michael glared, earning himself another hair ruffle and a chuckle from the gent. “So, he's gonna be alright?”
“As far as we know, yeah. Now, come on. We're gonna head back to the apartment to grab you some clean clothes so that you can see your boyfriend smelling like flowers instead of dirt and blood.”
“Are you serious?” Michael spat out, snorting loudly. “I can't fucking leave, are you nuts?”
“Michael, he's not going going to wake up for a while.” Geoff was using his best leader-voice for this conversation. “There's no point in you sitting around here in crusty clothing, waiting for sleeping beauty to awaken when he's conked out on drugs.”
Michael immediately went to protest again. “But Geoff, what if he wakes up? The asshole would do something like that.”
“Then we'll come right back. But trust me, he's not going to wake up.”
“Hey, uh... Geoff?”
“Yeah, Jack?”
“We just got a text from Caleb. Gavin's awake again...”
“What?!”
“Yeah, apparently he slept off the drugs again...”
“I fucking told you guys!” Michael roared as he came out of the bathroom, only a towel covering his waist. “Fuck all you, I'm heading back in my own car.”
Geoff sighed. “I am never going to hear the end of this.”
Michael walked into Gavin's room at the makeshift hospital, now wearing a warm hoodie and pair of sweatpants as he tried to ignore all the sounds and smells exploding his senses. He almost didn't want to be there because of the vibe he got. But at the very same time, he wasn't going to let anything stand between him and his boi. Bracing himself, he walked closer to the bed that held his most precious person.
For someone who was just shot two days before, there weren't that many wires surrounding him – nothing like what they showed in movies or described in books. Sure, he had a couple attached to him here and there, but it wasn't anything completely shocking. His dirty blond locks, which was typically messy in a stylish way, now stuck up at odd angles all around his head like a halo. The most shocking thing to Michael, though, was seeing just how pale Gavin was. The lad, who normally had a nice, golden tan about his skin, was paler than Michael. The bruises on his skin from getting thrown about after the explosion really stuck out now.
But his eyes were open, and as clear blue-green as they could be while on what was most likely a very delicious painkiller cocktail.
And he was looking directly at Michael.
“Well, love... you going to come say hello or are you going to just stare at me all day?” Gavin quietly questioned from his position on the bed, smiling gently at his boi groggily.
He was clearly very stoned.
Sighing, Michael walked closer to the bed, reaching out hestinatnly to touch Gavin's fuzzy cheek. “How are you feeling, Gavs?”
“Quite loopy, love! But it's bloody wonderful – can't feel a damn thing from being shot.”
Rolling his eyes, Michael pushed strands of hair back from his boi's face. “You have no idea how fucking terrified I was... and how damn pissed I am.”
“I'm sorry, Micool,” Gavin pouted, wet eyes watching Michael carefully. “I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't mean to botch up the mission. I just... we've been cooped up for weeks and my head wasn't screwed on properly and-”
“You idiot,” Michael said fondly, hand still running through his dirty locks before coming down to rest again on his scruffy cheek. He leaned forward, his lips resting on his forehead before moving to his lips in a quick, chaste kiss. “I'm not mad about the mission anymore. Not really, at least.”
“You aren't?” Gavin questioned, tilting his head to the side and leaning more into his boi's touch, moving forward with his lips when the older pulled away. “Then why are you peeved?”
Watching him for a moment without answering, he came to a decision. Michael moved the bar down on the side of the hospital bed, ignoring Gavin's question of 'What are you doing?' as he did so. Kicking off his sneakers - and very thankful for the sweatpants he decided to intelligently put on - he motioned for the younger to move over as he gently made his way onto the mattress, trying to not pull out any wires as he went along.
“Michael-”
“If you think I'm leaving you, you've got another thing coming. Someone needs to watch over you and who's the best person to do it but your boi?” Michael grinned, poking Gavin playfully in the forehead. Really, his face seemed to be the only place he wasn't seriously injured. “Come on, move over.”
Gavin sluggishly scooted over with some help – or, rather, a lot – from Michael, trying not to wince as he pulled slightly at his stitches. Michael, pretending he didn't see the grimace for his own sanity, crawled into the bed next the wounded lad, laying on his back as he pulled Gavin to stretch over him. Gavin giggled, clearly a little delirious at the close contact with his love, throwing his arm that wasn't currently connected to a medicine drip behind the older's neck, nosing at the pulse point there with a content sigh as he snuggled close. Michael wrapped his arms tightly around him, one hand going to stretch along the expanse of his back while the other one carded through the hair on the back of his head.
“You alright there, boi?”
Gavin nodded gently, snuffling quietly into Michael's skin. “Mhm.”
“Good.”
It was quiet for a moment, the room silent except for the ever-beeping of the machine proving that Gavin was still alive and breathing – something he was one hundred fucking percent okay with hearing. He started to doze a bit, eyes closing as two plus days of no sleep starting to really hit him, when the Brit in his arms spoke quietly. “Micool?”
“Hm?”
“You never told me why you were so pissed if not at me.”
Michael sighed, hoping he would get away with not answering it due to both his own exhaustion and Gavin's loopiness. “It's stupid.”
The younger lad shook his head, the arm behind Michael's next tightening a bit as he responded with, “It's not stupid. Nothing you could say would be stupid. Tell me.”
Opening russet colored eyes, Michael blinked heavily as he tried to get the words together. “I was angry because it was my fault.”
“Whazzat?” The Brit questioned muzzily.
“It was my fault you almost died – or, well, did actually die, if we go by the fact that you stopped breathing twice in the van,” Michael shuddered, holding onto him tighter. The thought of it was making his eyes water again. God, he couldn't think of a time he cried, or almost cried, so much in his life. It didn't matter that Gavin was safe, that he was held in an iron-clad grip. Just the thought of him almost being gone terrified him. “I'm supposed to protect you. Instead, I argued with you and you almost died. You almost died. I held you in my arms as you bled to death in a back alley. I couldn't save you. I couldn't do anything.”
“But Michael, look...” Gavin murmured sleepily, the drugs starting to kick back in. “I'm here. I'm still alive. 'n I'm not going anywhere. Alright? It's not your fault I almost bullocked the mission by setting off a homemade bomb and not just distracting them like I was supposed to... I'm sorry, boi. I'm so sorry that... you had to see that. Can you forgive me for that?”
There was no question. No matter what he did, Michael would always forgive him. “Yeah, you dumbass. Doesn't matter what you do. How could I stay mad at you for long?”
Gavin chuckled, his even breath fanning over Michael's collarbone as he started to drift back into dreamland. “And no matter, I'll always forgive you... even if you don't need it. We're in this together, boi.”