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sorcererinthestars · 2 years

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Stormy Nights [FAHC]

Been a long while since I've posted any writing on here, huh? Thanks so much to the @rtwritingcommunity's secret "sunshine" fic exchange because it keeps me writing when the world is turning upsidedown. Thank you to @shadeofazmeinya for the huge help and basically co-authorship of this fic!

Please enjoy @fornhaus! <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41001033 Word Count: 2711

It starts as a sprinkle.

After a heist, especially when it was raining like this, it was common for the Fakes to hole up for a while, disperse their (now growing) crew to tiny apartments and safehouses across the city to avoid detection. The last heist was more… chaotic … than most, which led the lads to duck and run into a seedier part of the city than they would have liked. The apartment was crumbling around them and Gavin gags at the moldy smell as he slams the wooden door shut behind him and slumps onto the couch, already texting someone or something.

Michael peers out the window at the growing storm and the police helicopters and cars racing around the city, lighting it up in flashes of red and blue on dancing raindrops. Thankfully no one was hurt badly — there was no way they were going to be heading back into the city that night.

“Geoff says stay put,” Gavin announces from his position on the ratty couch. “Storms’ too bad to try to regroup tonight. Last thing we needed was one of the three LS storms to hit tonight, huh?”

“All that praying for rain worked out at the worst fucking time,” Michael mutters, moving towards the kitchen to start rummaging through the cabinets. Neither realize that Jeremy had also retreated to the window, silently — uncommon for him — peering out into the rain. The others chatter turns into a quiet monotone behind him as instead the drumming of the rain on the glass panes and the small balcony fill his ears and turn his stomach.

Slipping on wet concrete, going down hard, an ankle snapping like white hot fire…

The others running on ahead, no one turning.

A rough arm yanking him up, a man’s gross breath on his face, spittle hitting as he was screamed at…

Police sirens…

“What do you want for dinner?” Michael’s voice yanks him back to reality and J turns, blinking owlishly, as Michael brandishes a wooden spoon and repeats the question for what seems like the second or third time. “J! Ramen or spaghetti? We ain’t got many options.”

“Ramen’s fine,” he says quietly, turning back towards the window, unable to look away although he probably should. Gavin gives Michael a bit of a sideways look, but neither really press that response. In a clatter of pots and pans, Michael digs out a good one and starts boiling water for ramen, focusing solely on getting food down his hatch as quickly as possible.

It doesn’t take long for the patter of rain to become a sheet, slamming hard against the roof and walls. Jeremy takes an involuntary step away from the window.

"We’re lucky," Gavin hums lazily from the couch, glancing up from his phone as the drumming of the rain becomes unavoidable. "We could've been caught in that shit. Hell of a getaway that would've been."

“Would’ve gotten those fancy clothes wet. Then what would you do?” Michael teases as he stirs the pot, glancing over his shoulder with a bright grin. Jeremy glances at them both, somehow uncomprehending how they could be so jovial. Laugh so much.

Gavin scowls. "Are you kidding me?" he says. "I wouldn't have got out of the car in that and you know it. Don't need to be on the field to hack and I’m more than comfy camping in the car to save these threads." He sprawls further across the couch, glancing over to Jeremy, who was still uncharacteristically quiet. It was enough that it was starting to alert Gavin, who often was the least aware of these things. "What the hell are you doing, J?" he asks. "More than enough room on the couch, don’t gotta stand there like a lump.”

Jeremy turns to look at him, trying to school his expression into something normal, when a lot of things happen at once. A crack of thunder bursts through the tiny one bedroom, feeling like it shakes the apartment from top to bottom, volume tremendous. The rain, already heavy, seems to increase. Gavin yelps from the thunder and again as a large drop falls from a brown patch on the ceiling to hit him on the head, whining wordlessly.

Before anyone can really get their bearings or react to what had just happened, the power flickers once… twice…

“This place is bloody shit,” Gavin pouts, sitting up from the couch, wiping the dirty water out of his hair grumpily, and looking over at the others as the lights flicker. “Power’s not going to last.”

Michael glances between the two of them and frowns as he sees Jeremy just sort of … standing there. Face white, as if he had seen a ghost, just staring up at the light. “Lil J?”

Before he can say anything else, the lights plunge into darkness as another huge crash of thunder breaks across the sky, causing all three of them to jump this time. The rain continues, slamming against the ceiling as if it wants to get in. Michael abandons questioning Jeremy as the whole kitchen shuts off, swearing and immediately trying to save the half-cooked ramen that immediately just sort of starts to congeal. "Fuck!"

But Gavin had caught the look in Jeremy's eyes before everything goes dark as well. He pulls out his phone again quickly, fiddling until the flashlight illuminates them both. Jeremy isn't looking at the ceiling anymore, instead staring blankly at the rain hitting the window…

It's dark.

He huddles behind a dumpster, shivering, hoping that the rain would pass before it fully washes away his pathetic shelter. He was kicked out of the fuckin' T stop by a worker who threatened to call the cops. Like it would mean anything to anyone if he just hung out in the dry for a while, but no, they chased him back out into the oncoming storm. Fuckin' Masshole. Although, he was one too, but at least he had the decency to let people stay dry before he tried to rob them.

He could go back to the gym, but his boss was there, and he didn't want to deal with any of them. So he'd just wait out the storm in the dark, trying not to get too soaked, and hope that it passed fast enough...

"Jeremy!" Gavin was shaking him, enough to rattle him out of the memory that crashed over him like a wave. Was he sweating? He felt damp, but maybe it was just the memory.

"Huh?"

“Bloody hell,” Gavin retorts, shaking his head in relief. “I was gonna slap you next if you didn’t answer. You just went comatose on me there, man. You look sick, what the hell’s the matter? You need me to call Jack?”

Jeremy allows Gavin to manhandle him towards the couch, feeling like he was walking through a dream. He keeps trying to look back out the window until Gavin, frustrated, throws the curtain and blocks the view of the rain and lightning outside.

Michael abandons his attempt to get the stove to restart, swearing, and they all jump again as the whole place illuminates with a flash of lightning. "Fucking thing's dead until the power comes back," he grunts. "Guess we're having crackers for dinner. What the fuck's up with J?" He turns to look at the two of them with his concerned snarl, where you weren’t quite sure if you were in trouble or if he was going to angrily ‘mom’ you.

“Spooked of something,” Gavin frowns, sitting beside Jeremy on the couch and gently taking one of his hands, in an uncharacteristic show of comfort outside the bedroom. “Talk to us, J. Are you hurt?”

Jeremy seems to shrink into himself as the lightning continues to crash around them, obvious even through the closed curtains, flashes of light flickering across his face before plunging them back into darkness. They can barely see if it wasn't for the light of Gav's phone.

"I'm fine," he finally says roughly, shaking his head and seeming like he was snapping out of his trance. "I’m just gonna go to bed." He tries to stand up, to shy away from them. Maybe sleep would make him not see the memories flash before his eyes. The trauma that curled like a snake in his gut.

The lulls in the storm always were what got him. That moment when you thought that the rain was over and everything settles, silent, sparkling. When he could come out from wherever he was hiding, start moving down the street, looking for better shelter.

And then the rain comes again, harder, the sky screaming and crashing, whipping across the ground out of nowhere. He's soaked and freezing, trying to run to shelter, but people don't want him around.

Gavin and Michael exchange worried glances but both move to follow him, not wanting to leave him alone like this. It takes a bit of fumbling in the dark to find the bed, using the lightning flashes to direct them. Jeremy still jumps with every one, and even more with the roaring thunder.

Ignoring the others and really trying to swallow back the embarrassment in his throat at all of this, Jeremy just toes off his work boots and climbs into the bed, hoping in the warmth of the covers and blankets he could avoid the thoughts leaping out from where he thought he had banished them. It’s hard, though. They keep piling over each other to take up space in his brain. He wishes they would just go away, thought that by moving to a desert city he wouldn’t have to deal with storms of Boston caliber ever again. It’s certainly been a long time, but every place needs rain once in a while, and the roof can hardly hold up against this monstrosity. The wind howls around the corners, whips through the cracks, screaming and howling as it tries to shake the whole apartment loose from its foundation.

Despite trying to be, though, Jeremy isn’t alone. Almost as one, Gavin and Michael are quick to curl into the bed with him. Neither were the most tactful “cuddlers” — their current relationship was mostly confined to wild sexcapades — but damned if they weren’t going to try when they see one of their own so distressed. Michael yanks Jeremy into his arms as Gavin wraps his spindly arms around from behind, cocooning Jeremy in a bundle of limbs. “Fuck, Jeremy,” Michael frowns. “You’re shaking.”

It’s awkward and a bit poky, but Jeremy can’t help but relax, the feral part of his brain knowing these boys are his boys and trusting them to somewhere deeply instinctual to keep him safe. A primal part of him saying that it’s ok to draw comfort from them. “...’m fine,” he grunts. A lie, but it feels good to pretend.

“I don’t want you to lie to us,” Michael frowns, laying his chin on his head and dropping a rough kiss there. “You don’t have to. Let us help.”

The thunder cracks again and instead of responding, Jeremy just makes a low noise from somewhere deep inside and shrinks deeper into their embrace. He doesn’t answer, because what would he say? He can't describe a life of trauma in a few minutes. He knows the boys with him won't judge him, that they'll understand and both had shit of their own, but he doesn't even know where to begin.

Gavin just holds him tight, shushing him softly and rubbing his back. “Just breathe, luv,” he murmurs. “We’re here. You’re ok.” It’s easier for him to be comforting without gaining anything from it, a warmth blooming inside him to know he’s helping Jeremy.

"Don't like thunder," Jeremy grits through clenched teeth, somewhere inside the pile. Michael snorts a bit at the obvious.

“That’s alright,” Gavin hums, somewhat more respectful. “We gathered that. Just take deep breaths and we’ll get through the storm together, alright?”

“Aren’t you gonna make fun of me?” Jeremy retorts darkly. Normally it’d be something they’d do, none of the Fakes are above a lot of casual teasing. “I’m — fuckin’ — a bank robber and I can’t handle a little thunder.”

“Gav’s a fucking bank robber too and he gags at wet bread,” Michael teases. “Geoff’s fucking scared of heights every time Jack flies, to the point where he has to sit in the middle of the cargobob or he’ll piss himself. We all have our shit. Doesn’t mean you’re not still part of the team.”

Jeremy’s quiet for a moment before he turns to glance over at Michael, flushing a bit. Despite their … carnal relations… Michael is rarely so affectionate. But it’s nice. “I guess,” he says roughly after a second. “Seems fuckin’ dumb, though.”

“Brains can be stupid,” Gavin chuckles. “But fear is fear. Just means we’re here to help you through it.”

“You gonna let us help you through wet bread?” Michael chuckles as Gavin squawks. The rain continues to rap sharply on the roof and the window and Jeremy is almost thrown once again into another memory of a similar room, a similar rainstorm, being shoved out and alone, his whole world disappearing, but…

Gavin’s arms tighten just gently, the warmth surrounding, and they ground him, connect him to the world around him. Michael can feel him starting to spiral again and wraps his arms again over both of them, only adding more warmth and pressure for Jeremy, like a human weighted blanket. Gavin continues to rub his back and the panic eases, making breathing a bit easier.

He leans against them both as they hold him. “Thanks,” he squeaks. “Appreciate it.”

“We can stay here until the storm passes,” Michael hums. “The good news is they don’t last too long here.”

“I’m not going out in that,” Gavin says immediately. Instead, he burrows farther into the pile, as if it can protect him. “Listen to the wind, and I’ve got my clothes to worry about.”

“No one’s moving from this bed,” Jeremy agrees quietly. “We can put some music or videos on our phones?” Michael suggests. “Help block out some of the sound.” But he makes no move to untwine himself from the comforting pile. There’s something so warm and safe here that even he can feel.

Jeremy sinks against them, glancing out what parts of the window he can see to watch the pounding rain. But this time, he forces himself to realize, he’s inside with the warmth of his two favorite people flanking on either side of him.

He wasn’t alone, in the dark and the wet.

He was safe. Loved.

Both hold him tight, stealing a kiss or two, just trying to provide as much comfort as they can. It’s not hard to see that they all enjoy this. Maybe this was something they could do often. Not only using each other’s bodies for pleasure, but cuddles too. More soft things. They can be soft, which is a luxury not many in Los Santos can afford.

Jeremy just closes his eyes and releases a sigh, letting them hold him tight against the pounding of the rain. Grounding and protecting him. It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks. “I was kicked out of my old gang during a thunderstorm,” he finally says, more to the ceiling than to the others.

Michael instinctively holds him a little tighter. “Fuck them. Leaving you in the fucking rain. You’re better than them.”

He snorts. “Maybe. Found you guys cuz of it though, so it must not have been all bad.”

“You found where you’re supposed to be,” Gavin agrees fimly. “Though, I wish it had been a kinder road to get here.”

“None of us had kind roads to get here, Gav,” Michael retorts.

Gavin sighs. “I know. But at least we’re here now.”

That statement seems to echo through the old apartment. In different safehouses across Los Santos, the Fakes were shaking off a stressful heist, celebrating in whatever way they wanted, and finding their own beds. And here, three men — a bit rough around the edges but still looking and finding that comfort we all crave — cuddle together. Warm and safe, away from the horrors of the world.

Here now, together.

#fahc #fake ah crew #ragehappy #michael/gavin/jeremy #ah #my writing

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