#which crack gavin and matt up so goddamn much

[vagrantblvrd]

Communication Breakdown (1/1)

Summary: Matt fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

Gavin is staring at him in shock and the rest of the crew is in various states of panic and alarm and Matt’s really fucked up now.

Notes: For @queen-bitchiest​  who asked for something based on this post that kind of sort of got away from me and is somewhat similar. /o\

(Read on AO3)

Matt fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

Gavin is staring at him in shock and the rest of the crew is in various states of panic and alarm and Matt’s really fucked up now.

(To be fair, Gavin’s been pissing Matt off for the last forever, doing the stupidest shit and thinking it’s just fine and dandy and all of that and Matt has had fucking enough, okay? So much enough he doesn’t have the words for how much enough.)

“...What?”

Matt clears his throat, glancing at the others – still confused as hell and trying to make sense of the scene in front of them - and Matt’s bad knee is not enjoying any of this, okay.

So not.

“I said,” Matt says, clearing his throat again because that goddamn cough is acting up again. “Will you marry me, you piece of shit.”

There’s -

“Wow,” Jack says, first to recover. “Just. Wow, Matt.”

Michael has this look on his face like he’s been sucking lemons, hand clamped on Jeremy’s shoulder tight enough that even he’s wincing. Hissing at Michael to ease up a bit, Jesus Christ, Michael.

Matt has no fucking clue what that’s about, but hey whatever. He’s busy staring Gavin down like the idiot has a gun on him and fuck him anyway.

Idiot looks like he’s been through a meat-grinder, all bloody and beat up. Those fucking gold-framed sunglasses of his hooked into the collar of his shirt, lenses cracked and broken and goddamn him anyway.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what you said before,” Ryan points out, quibbling just to quibble.

Geoff looks like he wishes these assholes he recruited could stop with their bullshit for like, five goddamn minutes for once.

Lindsay snaps a picture of Matt down on one knee in front of Gavin on her phone and sends it to someone. (Odds are good it’s Trevor who took Alfredo and Fiona out of town for a job because they have an agreement.)

And, okay, yes.

The first time Matt didn’t call Gavin a piece of shit – out loud, at any rate – but they all know he was thinking it. Especially after Gavin’s little adventure today.

“Matt,” Gavin says, strained note to his voice. “Could I have a word with you in private?”

Matt opens his mouth to tell him no, no he can not because he knows what Gavin’s about to say, but this being Gavin, eh doesn’t give him the chance.

No, Gavin pulls Matt to his feet and drags him along behind him as they head for the conference room, catcalls and Geoff’s despairing, “Don’t fuck in my conference room, you assholes!” following them.

========

The décor in the conference room is very...bland.

No-nonsense hardwood laminate and this odd off-white paint for the walls. Glass-topped conference table with brushed-steel legs.

The view’s nice, looks out over the city. You can see the mountains in the distance, and if it’s a clear day you can almost see Chiliad.

“Matt,” Gavin says, a little shaky. “What. What was that?”

Matt staring out the windows, but it’s the opposite of a clear day. Fat, heavy rain clouds with lightning and thunder out over Vinewood and moving towards the penthouse.

Supposed to be one hell of a storm rolling in, at least a couple of inches of rain before night rolls around.

Matt looks over at Gavin, who still looks like shit, by the way, and crosses his arms. (Gavin almost got himself killed today, and Matt is not okay with  that in any way, as though that will change things. Make the reckless idiot think twice before pulling those stunts of his.)

“What?” Matt asks, frown on his face and just enough confusion thrown in there that for a moment Gavin looks like he’s doubting himself, what he thinks he heard in the penthouse’s living room. “I didn't say anything.”

And, alright.

That's pushing things a little too far because Gavin’s eyes narrow, all the stupid, reckless decision making abilities he has shoved aside to make way for the sharp-eyed bastard that enjoys playing dumb too damn much.

“There was a plan,” Gavin says, although which one he’s talking about is up for debate. “We had a plan, Matt.”

They did, didn’t they.

“Oh?” Matt says. “Which one might that be, Gavin? The one where you were supposed to stick with Ryan, and not go off on your own? Or maybe you mean the one where you avoid the pack of guards with itchy trigger fingers? Ooh, or maybe - “

God, there are so many plans Gavin could be talking about. And true, they’re all smaller components to the master plan for the heist, but still.

“Uh,” Gavin says, like he realizes he’s stepped into a mine-field here. “None of the above?”

Matt stares at Gavin.

Look, he knows, okay. Matt knows this...thing they’ve been doing the past few weeks is a farce. Knows none of it was real, was just Gavin being Gavin, trying to get the others off his back about his dating dry spell. (And it’s not like there’s a dating site for criminals or anything, so Matt doesn’t know what they were thinking, but whatever.)

Matt drew the short straw and he was fine, just fine with pretending to be Gavin’s plus one because hey, why not?

It was funny at first, watching the others react to the news Gavin was dating him. That he and Matt were a Thing. The expressions of horror and disgust as he and Gavin tried to out-do one another with pet names at every available opportunity, Matt trying to hold his shit together while Gavin simpered at him over the comms and just.

He kind of forgot for a while it wasn’t – look, he knows it will never happen, just.

Matt forgot, let himself get swept along in Gavin’s chaos and had fun. Enjoyed himself a little too much and -

Point is, point is, for the last few weeks Matt’s life has been a super crappy romcom, and he just made things worse.

There was supposed to be this dramatic breakup after the heist, just enough to have everyone else fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Get them to buy it the way they thought someone like Gavin would be interested in someone like Matt – great joke, right? - but Matt fucked that up.

Saw Gavin standing there after everything that happened giving him this look, all well? Get on with it then, we don’t have all day like he hadn’t come so damn close to dying, and Matt snapped.

Just.

Fucking snapped the way the betting pool Jack’s got going Matt’s not supposed to know about says he’s bound to one day with all the shit the crew gives him.

Matt snapped and instead of breaking up with Gavin he proposed to him.

Gavin’s still watching him.

Head tipped to the side and this little frown on his face, puzzling out what the hell’s gotten into Matt.

“Matt,” Gavin says, oddly formal about it. “While I know it can be confusing, breaking up rarely involves a marriage proposal.”

They kind of do? (Or maybe Matt’s lived a very different life from Gavin, because yeah. He's seen shit go down like this before.)

“Shows what you know,” Matt mutters.

Gavin sighs, and shuffles over to one of the conference room chairs. Makes this pained little noise as he sits down, winces just the tiniest bit.

“Matt,” he says, and gently pats the table. “Sit the hell down and talk to to me.”

Oh, such sweet nothings.

“I’m good where I am, thanks,” Matt says, always too stubborn for his own good.

Several minutes go by while Gavin studies him, wheels turning in that head of his.

Alright then, love,” Gavin says, and Matt’s fingers dig into his arm at how the term of endearment just slips off his tongue so easily.

Light and soft and not Matt’s alone because Gavin’s just as likely to call one of the others that or someone he bumps into on the street than Matt, so.

Yeah.

Not his, and he’s fine with that, but the past few weeks have fucked with Matt’s head a little too much. Gotten everything he used to keep (somewhat) neat and orderly in and locked down tight in his head all jumbled together and he’s just.

He’s tired.

“Matt,” Gavin says, concern creeping into his voice. “Are you okay?”

Matt kind of wants to laugh, or is it cry?

“I’m fine, Gavin,” he says, because he always is, right? Good old Matt Bragg, always there when the others need him, even if it’s to play fake boyfriend for some dumbshit. “Just fine.”

Gavin sighs, and when Matt looks over he realizes Gavin looks tired too.

Gotta be hurting like a son of a bitch too, after the day he’s had. Too many close calls and an unhealthy amount of explosions in his vicinity and all that.

“You should have someone look you over,” Matt says, done with this conversation. “You look like shit.”

Gavin’s mouth twists, but Matt’s not in the mood for his bullshit anymore.

“I’ve got...stuff to do,” he says. He trusts B-Team to have things in hand, all the post-heist work they have to do to keep the authorities off their backs, but he needs to be doing something. Cant’ just stand around with his thumb up his ass reliving one of the worst days of his life in his head while Gavin sits there staring at him like he doesn’t get it. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He leaves before Gavin can say anything else, pushes past the cluster of idiots outside the conference room doors and ignores the looks they give him as he does.

========

Matt hides out as much as he can for the next week, makes up excuses and flat-out lies to avoid facing the others in any capacity. (Thank God for B-Team running interference or he might have had to talk about his feelings.)

But then, you know.

The food poisoning hits, and he’s vulnerable like a turtle turtle turned on its back. Or is that tortoises?

Whichever one it is, he’s too sick to run when Trevor finally catches him.

“There you are.”

Matt doesn’t cringe, no.

That would just tip Trevor off as to Matt’s horrible life choices even more. No, Matt just feel his stomach clench up on him. (Could be the food poisoning, but he doesn’t get the accompanying nausea, just this all-over dread, so. Probably the feelings thing.)

“Matt?” Trevor asks, and then when Matt pretends he can’t hear him what with his headphones in, sternly, “Matt Bragg”

Matt would keep pretending he can’t hear Trevor, but then the asshole yanks the cord of his headphone out of Matt’s computer and he has to slap at the keyboard to mute the volume before it’s too late and Trevor hears what he’s listening to.

“Is that...Matt. Is that Sarah McLachlan ?”

Matt winces, and doesn’t deny it. (But oh, would he love to.)

“It’s a scientific fact,” Matt says, trying to hold on to whatever dignity he has left. “It's a scientific fact that listening to sad music after a breakup is beneficial.”

He’s pretty sure he just pulled that out of his ass, but whatever. The saddest song he can think of is from that one damned humane society commercial, God knows he feels like shit just thinking about it.

And...you know, the thing where he and Gavin weren’t actually dating, but. Uh. Details?

Trevor stares at him for a moment before shaking his head.

“Okay, whatever the hell that’s all about aside, I came to check on you.”

Well, obviously, what with Trevor picking the locks on Matt’s front door, yes.

“And!” Trevor continues, “I brought you a gift.”

That’s...concerning.

Deeply, deeply concerning.

Trevor’s smiling.

“Uh - “

Trevor’s smiling and Matt’s known him too long not to recognize the warning signs, and yet he’s still caught by surprise when Trevor reveals said “gift”.

“Bring him in!” Trevor calls out, like a demented game show host ushering in a contestant.

Behind Trevor Matt’s front door swings open to show Jeremy and a reluctant looking Gavin. Jeremy all but dragging Gavin inside, this manic grin on his face as he gives Gavin a little shove towards Matt and then blocks the door.

“Hey, Matt!” Jeremy says, and bright and cheerful and not a little terrifying. “Look who we found!”

Would you look at that? The nausea’s back, because Gavin’s not looking at him.

Is, in fact, looking at Trevor and Jeremy, everything thing about him screaming that he doesn’t want to be here, dear God you two, please let him leave,.

Trevor’s smiles kicks up another notch as he leans around Gavin and pins Matt with a look.

“You two kids play nice now,” he says with a wink. “We’ll be right outside.”

What.

“What?”

But Trevor borrows Matt’s earlier trick of selective hearing because he just waltzes right on out of Matt’s apartment with Jeremy and shuts the door behind them.

“Uh,” Matt says again, because what the hell? “Hey, Gavin.”

Gavin flinches, which is never a good sign.

He flinches, and turns to look at Matt.

Still looks like shit, but like. Less so.

The bruises are fading, no longer that dark, ugly purple Matt remembers from the penthouse. The cuts on his face and neck have scabbed over, should heal without scarring.

But there are dark marks under his eyes that weren’t there the last time Matt saw him, and he looks. Tired. Not the way he normally looks, burning the candle at both ends and thriving off it, no, he looks exhausted.

“You look like shit in a completely different way,” Matt says, because he’s never had a whole brain-to-mouth filter, and boy has that gotten him into trouble in the past. “No offense.”

Gavin makes a face at that, mouth quirking into the tiniest of smiles.

“Oh, no offense taken then since you said that, Matt,” he says, dumb little in-joke with them.

And then you know, an awkward pause.

Neither of them want to be here having the discussion they’re about to have because Trevor and Jeremy are assholes.

“I have a fire escape?” Matt offers, waves a hand more or less in the right direction. “But I have a feeling they roped Alfredo into this mess, and you know Alfredo.”

No doubt set up in a sniper’s nest in case they try to sneak out the back.

“Oh, they did,” Gavin says, eyes darting to Matt’s living room windows. “Fiona’s out there too.”

Jesus.

That’s something Matt didn’t need to know considering she has to be itching to take him down for all the shit he gives her.

“Awesome,” Matt says, because really.

Awesome.

Gavin’s watching Matt, this little frown between his eyes. All concerned and shit.

“You look terrible,” Gavin says, takes a step towards Matt before he stops himself, pulls the hand that was reaching towards him back with a jerky little motion. “Are you alright?”

Matt is super not alright, because the food poisoning. (And also his terrible life choices, but mainly the food poisoning at this point.)

“Well, you know,” Matt says. “Food poisoning will do that to you.”

Interestingly enough, Gavin winces. Opens and closes his mouth a few times like he’s got something to say and just doesn’t know how.

Like maybe he knows something Matt doesn’t, or just. Who even knows.

“Gavin?”

Gavin does the thing he does when he’s trying to translate from Gavin to English and failing, so he settles for vague hand gestures and words that are kind of sort of almost right with random noises thrown in.

It sounds like gibberish, and Matt can never tell if it’s some kind of British slang or Gavin’s brain shorting out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

Gavin sighs, looking at Matt like he’s the idiot here.

“I said,” Gavin says. “You should be nicer to Sarah.”

Matt’s positive that isn’t what Gavin said, but sure.

Also.

“Wait.”

Gavin raises his eyebrows, corner of his mouth ticking up like he thinks something is hilarious but he doesn’t want to look like an asshole. (Too late, but Matt appreciates the attempt.)

“Wait.”

Matt likes Sarah, he does. Gives her a lot of grief because he likes her, because like everyone else in the crew it’s how he shows affection or some shit. (They’re all a fucked up.)

Problem is, Sarah is a monster of a human being.

Plays all sweet and nice, but Matt knows she’s plotting behind his back, waiting for the right moment to   lay him low so she can take his place and rule with an iron fist or some shit.

Or, you know. Just lay him low because he gives her shit and she’s not someone who takes kindly to that, whichever.

“She brought me my lunch,” Matt says, feeling like a detective in some shitty Vinewood movie putting the pieces together.

Sarah brought Matt his lunch, and the  the food poisoning happened and he was too busy trying to puke up his guts to ponder overmuch how the food poisoning happened, or question if it was intentional.

“Oh my God,” Matt says, impressed despite of himself because she was so smooth about it, all happy smiles and kind and generous to get lunch for B-Team, just doing a good deed and dear God she’s far more devious than he gave her credit for. “Oh my God.”

Gavin bites his lip, looks away. Doesn’t laugh at Matt while struggles to come to terms with this most heinous of betrayals, no.

God no, Gavin would never.

“If it helps,” Gavin says, shoulders shaking just the tiniest bit. “I’m certain Trevor put her up to it.”

That...yeah. That doesn’t surprise Matt as much. Trevor would thinking giving Matt food poisoning would give him the perfect opening to instigate this...whatever this is.

(Oh, everyone thinks Trevor’s the nice one. All polite and shit, but no. Trevor is the worst one in the entire crew, including Sarah.)

“Of course he did,” Matt mutters. “It’s Trevor.”

Gavin clears his throat, shuffles his feet.

Catches Matt eye for a moment, this smile on his face before he looks away again just as fast.

Looks awkward as hell and Matt can’t figure out if that little flicker of guilt he saw on his face before he did was real or just a figment of his imagination.

And then -

“I bollocksed everything up between us, didn't I?” Gavin asks, staring at the ugly little garden garden gnome statue Jeremy stole for Matt on a dare with a frown on his face. “Did everything all wrong.”

Matt says nothing. He’s not sure what he can say, so he lets Gavin talk it out since that seems to be what he needs right now.

Something about the crew giving him grief over his non-existent romantic life and Gavin having enough. Wanting just a little bit of peace and quiet on that front as he wrestled with crew business and gearing up for the heist and a million and one other things.

Matt makes noises in the appropriate places because knows all about that, remembers Gavin explaining it to him when he made that indecent proposal of his. (Should have been a warning sign he did it over dinner, took Matt out to one of his favorite places to sweeten the deal. Butter him up, all that stuff.)

“It just...” Gavin sighs, gives Matt this wry smile. “It all got out of hand.”

That’s one way to put it.

“I thought,” Gavin sighs again, frustrated. “I thought I had it under control. Figured it was just for a little while, that I wouldn’t...wouldn’t lose sight of things.”

Matt’s stomach does this little flip, a dip and roll and the nausea is...doing something. Has him sinking down on his couch and giving Gavin a wordless shrug as he mimes food poisoning kind of sucks at him, or something close enough that Gavin seems to get it.

Matt watches as Gavin takes a seat in the crappy arm chair on the other side of Matt’s coffee table. Sees him fiddle with the strings on his hoodie, worrying the knot between his fingers.

“Michael told me it was a bad idea,” Gavin says, mumbles almost. “Said I was playing with fire, going to get burned and all that, but I didn’t listen to him. Told him he couldn’t say anything, and you know how he is.”

Oh, Matt knows.

Asshole would have either gone to Matt the moment he figured everything out to fuck with Gavin or he’d have Gavin’s back the whole way. (Or a little bit of both, give Matt more shit than usual and drop little comments here and there that were confusing as hell at the time, but now? Yeah. That whole hindsight thing is a bitch.)

Gavin makes a face, waves his hand in even more vague gestures.

“Can’t keep a secret from Michael to save my life,” he says. “Bastard’s good at sniffing ‘em out.”

Or maybe he just knows Gavin that well. (Also, Matt’s will pass on the nose jokes because the mood in the room is all wrong. Noble sacrifice on his part right there.)

Gavin shrugs, like he knows what Matt’s thinking.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go the way it did,” Gavin says, fingers moving on to picking the hoodie string apart, undoing the knot and unraveling the string. “But it was just too much bloody fun messing with the others, but then it...”

Gavin trails off, frowning at the bits of fabric stuck under his nails like he doesn’t know where they came from. Scowls as he sets to pulling them free, making a messy pile of shredded fluff on Matt’s coffee table like an asshole.

“It got complicated,” Matt finishes for him. Because it did. He knows what Gavin means, because it really was fun at first.

The two of them fucking with the others, and just enjoying the ride. Getting the chance to know one another better, which was the main problem. Kicked that crush Matt had on Gavin into overdrive. Made him realize that hey, wow, that little crush he’d had on Gavin since he joined the crew wasn’t middle school infatuation with the guy. That he had feelings for Gavin even though he damn well knew better than that.

Knew perfectly well what a piece of shit Gavin was and he still liked him. (Liked-liked, even.)

But by then it was too late to keep himself from getting hurt and he knew that, he did, he just didn’t give a damn.

Gavin plucks the last bit of cloth out from under his nails and sighs.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding tired and defeated and guilty as Matt’s ever heard him. “That.”

Which, okay, great. Nice to know and everything, but -

“I like you,” Gavin blurts out, still staring at his hands, his nails. “A lot, Matt. I like you a lot.”

Matt doesn’t know what that means in this context.

“Well,” he says. Stops. Thinks, or tries to, but he’s kind of an idiot. “That’s great to hear, Gavin. I like you too.”

God, they sound like toddlers.

No, worse, because toddlers can express their emotions. What the two of them are doing is just sad.

Gavin looks up at him, like Matt’s not understanding him.

“No,” he says, insistent. “I like you, Matt.”

...Okay?

Gavin stares at Matt, who looks back feeling like he’s missing something but no clue what it could be and oh, Jesus, he hates moments like these, okay. Really, really hates them because they end with Matt being used as bait or conned into doing something he super doesn’t want to be part of. (See: Pretending to Date Gavin-fucking-Free as just one example.)

“Oh my God,” Gavin says, laughter a little hysterical at the edges. “Oh my God, Matt.”

Matt freezes when Gavin shoves himself to his feet and climbs over Matt’s coffee table - “Hey, my coffee table!” - to stand in front of him.

Looks down at Matt with that frown on his face again, the puzzle-solving one and sighs as he gives Matt this smile.

Soft and warm and too...too much.

Has Matt trying to move, back away from him because no>, but there’s nowhere for him to go. Can’t climb over the back of the couch because his balance is shit at the moment, and also he’s not the athletic sort.

Also, he might puke if he tries it.

“Matt Bragg,” Gavin says, and gets down on his knees in front of Matt to put them on even ground.

...Even-ish.

“You’re kind of an idiot, Matt Bragg,” Gavin says, and the way his voice sounds is all kinds of unfair, just as soft and affectionate as that damned smile of his. “And I’m not sure why, but I like that about you.”

That’s. Wow. Flattering?

“Um, thanks?”

Gavin rolls his eyes, because Matt isn’t a hundred percent on board with whatever it is he’s doing here – giving Matt backhanded compliments while confusing the hell out of him maybe? - and shakes his head.

“I’d like to date you,” Gavin says in one big rush. Breathes. “Properly, I mean. Take you out to all your favorite...restaurants and to movies and all that.”

Matt squints at Gavin.

He knows that that hesitation regarding Matt’s “restaurants” was all about. Knows everyone in the crew cannot fathom how he hasn’t died of scurvy or malnutrition yet with the way he eats. Knows what Gavin thinks about all of it, and yet here he is being mildly insulting about it.

That’s Gavin making an effort, really trying. More than Matt ever hoped for, and it’s -

Matt likes it.

Likes that Gavin’s making an effort here, letting Matt see him like this when he’s always so guarded about things. (Laughs and jokes, sure, and always, always deflecting.)

He’s still having a hard time buying someone as brilliant, as vibrant as Gavin would be interested in someone as – well. Someone like Matt, but there’s this part of him that wants to because Matt knows Gavin’s a piece of shit, sure, but he’s not someone who’d knowingly set out to fuck with Matt’s feelings.

Leap of faith, trust fall. Something like that.

“Wow,” Matt says, and he doesn’t know if the way his heart kicks him in the chest is related to the food poisoning or something else, or if it’s anything to do with how nervous Gavin looks right now. “That really hurt you to say didn’t it.”

Gavin’s eyes widen, and Matt can see him jumping to all the wrong conclusions, so he just.

“Okay,” Matt says, and laughs at the way Gavin chokes a little bit between trying to apologize harder and the confusion at Matt’s easy agreement. “Yeah, okay. We can do that. The dating thing. I’m super on board with that.”

Gavin’s not wrong about Matt being an idiot, because talk about smooth, but hey. Gavin’s the idiot who wants to date Matt, so what does that say about him?

And yes, for the record Matt knows he’s insulting himself there, but seriously.

Gavin could have anyone he wanted and he’s choosing Matt.

And sure, there’s every chance this won’t work out between them, but that’s the risk anyone takes when they date someone, isn’t it?

Give him a little hope and he goes all optimistic, doesn’t he? Because it’s possible this can still blow up in their faces, but Matt’s trying to ignore that for the moment. Wants to believe it can (it can) work between them if they’re both willing to put in some effort, be a little more honest with one another.

“...I feel like you’re laughing at me, Matt Bragg.”

Matt pastes on an innocent expression, because good lord no, Gavin. He would never dare do such a thing.

“Perish the thought,” he says, and laughs at the look Gavin gives him because they’re both idiots and this is such a bad idea, but that’s kind of what they do, so there’s that.

Gavin sighs again, but there’s a smile playing on his lips and he looks. He looks happy, like he can’t believe Matt’s giving him a chance, second one or whatever this is, and that can’t be a bad thing.

“Hey,” Matt says, leans forward and waits until Gavin does the same. “I kind of like you too, Gavin.”

#braggvin #mattvin #ragehappy #fahc au #queen-bitchiest #Prompt Fills #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic #this was supposed to be short and sweet?and yet here we are #lol #XD

[ganglylimbs]

Geoff’s Very No Good, Bad Day

Fandom: RT/ Fake AH Crew

Summary: Geoff wakes up with a headache. The headache’s name is Trevor. His day does not get better from there. 

Notes: In an effort to ge me to write more, I’m doing the Writer’s month challenge. This is for day 1, the prompt: Annoyance

Warnings: Lots of swearing. Geoff also makes a lot of humoristic comments towards suicide. 

Geoff wakes up with a headache. Whether it’s from sleeping at his desk, bones cracking as he sits up , or because Trevor slams open the door, startling him enough that he jumps back in his seat, he’s unsure. The sudden shift in weight is enough to over tip his chair, sending Geoff to the ground. 

Geoff takes a moment to reconsider his life and the many bad decisions that had led him here. Then he picks up his gun and points it vaguely in the direction of Trevor’s voice. 

“Leave.” 

Trevor, the fucker, doesn’t even blink. “Hey Geoff. Having fun down there?” 

“I will not hesitate.” 

“Cool, cool,” Trevor nods. “I have those reports you need to sign.” 

“The Schnuer ones?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I will put a bullet in you, don’t test me.” 

Trevor has the gall to laugh at him, as if Geoff’s finger isn’t twitching over the trigger. He is not in the fucking mood. “I see someone hasn’t had their coffee yet.” 

“Trevor.” 

“Did you sleep here? That must of been uncomfortable.”

“I’m going to count to three.” 

“I guess that explains it. Do you want me to book you a massage? Want a happy ending?”

“One.” 

“Are you embarrassed that you can’t get up? Do you need Life Alert?”

“Two.” 

Trevor laughs again, setting the papers down. “Ok, ok. I’m leaving.” He grins all the way to the door. Geoff does not relax. 

Halfway out, Trevor turns, eyes twinkling. “By the way, you have a meeting with the Wilson Sisters in an hour. I would get going if you want to make it on time.” 

Trevor manages to close the door before the gun goes off. 

                                                                  ~

The headache stays with him all day and absolutely does not get better. 

Geoff knows he looks like shit when he arrives at the meeting, having fore gone a shower and shave and deciding that yesterday’s clothes will have to be Good Enough, but he does not give a shit. He’s here and he made it on time. 

Still the way Gavin and Ryan chuckle at him when he arrives makes a vein throb in his forehead.  

The Wilson Sisters are just as annoying as ever, with their insistence that Geoff buy his weapons only from them because they are the best around (true but fuck them if Geoff is going to agree to their terms). 

Gavin, because fuck the universe and fuck Geoff’s life, is in a Mood. He wants to play. 

And, because double fuck his life and the universe as a whole, Ryan is indulgent. 

Which means Geoff has to stand there, wishing for death, as Gavin flirts with one of the sisters (Deliah? Danny?), making her squeal with laughter. On the other side, Ryan buts in on Geoff’s conversations with randon facts that range from innocent (“Did you know a group of cats is called a clowder?”) to downright creepy (“Did you know your bones can self-destruct?”). No one besides Geoff seems to be bothered by this, so no matter how many times Geoff tells him to fuck off, Ryan ignores him. 

Geoff takes a long suffering sigh, tells the Sisters that fuck no, they will stick to the original contract, then leaves because he needs a goddamn donut. 

He gets a winky face text from Gavin and consideres, for a full ten seconds, just ramming his car into a building. 

                                                          ~

Geoff gets his donut. He does not get to enjoy his donut. 

Jeremy calls, asking for bail money. Geoff tells him to call Jack and is so close to hanging up on him when Jeremy tells him that Jack needs bail money too. 

Geoff stares mournfully at the Sun. 

The Sun gives no shits. 

It’s a long drive to the police station because the road is full of assholes and by the time he arrives, the headache is well on it’s way to being a full migraine. 

Officer McFuckFace (Geoff maybe knows his name? He sees the fucker enough he should. He just can’t be bothered to remember) sneers at him. 

“Ramsey.”

Geoff, very politely and with much restraint, does not call him Officer McFuckFace out loud. He wants this done and over with. “What did the idiots supposedly do now?” 

McFuckFace snorts at the supposedly. “Started a bar fight.�� 

Geoff nods. Suicide is looking great at this point. 

“Then, when police got involved, they lead them into a high speed chase.” 

Scratch that. Murder is the way to go. 

“The mooning was fun to add to the list, I have to admit.” 

Just a full on blood path. 

Geoff starts the long process of trying to get his idiots out. It takes a full 2 hours (even when his lawyers show up) and by then Geoff is begging for death. 

The idiots are not merciful. 

Jack has a black eye. Michael has dried blood under his nose and a ripped shirt. Jeremy is...Jeremy. A fucking disaster. 

Geoff goes to leave them on the sidewalk but they fucking bully him into taking them to the penthouse. Assholes. 

                                                            ~

Geoff has paperwork to do and a list of people he needs to contact. But first, he needs a fucking nap. 

His head hits his pillow and his door opens. He turns and hisses. 

Lindsay just blinks. “Hey, Geoff we need you.” 

“You’re big boys and girls, whatever it is, you can figure out on your own.” 

“Well.” 

Geoff immediately buries his face in his pillow because that tone means that someone is about it die. 

“There is a fire in the kitchen.” 

It’s Geoff. Geoff is going to die. 

He rolls out of bed and stomps into the kitchen before coming to a stop. Yep. That sure is a fire. 

Matt and Fiona look at him. Geoff stares at them desperately. Behind them, the fire reigns. 

“What did you do?” 

“Umm, maybe we should discuss this after we stop the fire?” Fiona says. 

By the time the fire is put out, the kitchen is a mess. The entire thing will have to be replaced. 

Geoff is so close to crying. 

“We just wanted to make some mac n’ cheese.”

“Just,” Geoff puts his head in his hands. “You’re banned. All of you, banned from the kitchen.” 

Matt seems put out but Fiona just nods. “That’s fair.” 

He makes them clean the kitchen and escapes to his office. At least there, he should get some peace. 

                                                             ~

Geoff is a fool. A goddamn fool. There is no peace. There is no rest. There is only hell. 

The entire. Damn. Crew is there. They trickle in ones and twos, grinning like the demons they are. They don’t even look at Geoff slumped in his chair, just continue to talk to each other.

Geoff’s head hits the desk. Someone eventually walks over, massaging his shoulders. As annoying as it is, Geoff finds himself relaxing. 

Someone else places pizza next to him and a drink. They continue to quietly talk to each other, about their day and tomorrow’s plans. There’s a rustle of paper and Geoff opens one eye. Trevor is talking with Fiona and Ryan, filling out the paperwork he had brought this morning. 

Wordlessly, Geoff reaches for his food and slowly eats it. Jack continues to work on his shoulders. 

Ok. Geoff guesses everyone gets to live today.

#writersmonth2019 #ragehappy #i had a lot of fun writing this

[vagrantblvrd]

Pack Dynamics (1/1)

Summary: There’s a clear hierarchy when it comes to the crew.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who asked for FAHC Myan. :D?

AO3   

There’s a clear hierarchy when it comes to the crew.

Geoff is the boss, except when he isn’t.

Jack is the boss, except when he isn’t.

Ryan is the boss -

“I’m in charge,” Ryan says, like some poor schmuck in one of Geoff’s shitty movies who’s just learned they have three months to live as he reads the note Geoff left for him again. “Jesus Christ, I’m in charge.”

-  when Geoff and Jack finally get their shit together and realize they want in each other’s pants in the romantic way and decide to go off on a “sextravaganza cruise” on Geoff’s stupid yacht.

Out of the corner of his eye Michael sees Gavin and Jeremy share a look. Barely contained glee like a couple of troublemaker kids in a different genre of shitty movies Geoff likes to torture himself with, and then they fist bump each other before running out of the room giggling.

Michael’s never really seen Ryan scared.

He’s seen him focused on the job at hand when they’re out and about wreaking havoc. Seen him determined when shit goes wrong and they’re working on flipping things around. Seen him concerned, worried, when shit really goes wrong and it’s make or break time.

Michael’s seen Ryan happy and relaxed, this little curl to his mouth as the others pull their usual bullshit and everything’s good.

Scared?

Not so much, but now -

Yeah, the fucker’s scared.

For good reason, because with Geoff and Jack out of the picture for the moment, Gavin and Jeremy are going to get the rest of them killed in some horrible way.

Dust off all their shitty little plans they’ve got saved up for days like this. (Jeremy likes to act like he thinks Gavin’s a menace like he’s not as bad. Put the two of them together on anything and you’re bound to regret it sooner rather than later.)

And since Ryan is officially in charge?

He gets to be the one to explain everything to Geoff and Jack when they get back.

“Hey,” Michael says, and claps a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, puts some cheer into his voice because the poor guy looks like he’s going to cry. “Congrats on the promotion.”

========

So the thing about Gavin and Jeremy being the worst?

Absolutely one hundred percent true.

“Oh my God,” Ryan says. “Oh my God.”

The Rimmy Turtle is chugging along a jogging path down by Del Perro Pier with cops in hot pursuit and at least one police chopper overhead.

Gavin’s got his firework launcher going - and even though the news chopper is too far away to pick it up – Jeremy’s got to be cackling his stupid head off.

The camera cuts to people running from the chaos, a few overturned cop cars that are merrily burning away, and they’ve only been gone for half an hour. Forty-five minutes at most.

Any other time and Ryan would be down there too, probably riding that hardcore bike of his with the skulls because he’s got some weird fixation.

Now, though, he’s like some poor dad in a shitty movie dealing with his adorably rambunctious kids and failing spectacularly.

“Yeah,” Michael says, fishing his keys out of the little bowl by the front door. “We should probably make sure they don’t die or something.”

It’s a rule of theirs, the Fake AH Crew, Michael’s pretty sure.

“Should we though?” Ryan asks, plaintive note to it, but he’s pulling on his jacket as he does.

========

“Look,” Gavin says, the moment they’re sure the cops have given up the chase. “What did you expect us to do?”

Parents out of town and the weird uncle in charge, so of course – of course – they were going to pull off a shitty little heist centered around a goddamned dare.

The worst they’ve got are some cuts and a handful of bruises, and the Rimmy Turtle is never going to be the same again, but hey.

No one died. (Yet.)

“I don’t know,” Ryan says, sarcasm on full. “Maybe be a little smarter about things?”

That -

Wow, yeah.

Gavin’s eyebrows shoot up, and Jeremy coughs discreetly behind his hand. Michael stops rooting around the cabinets in the shitty safehouse they’re in and glances over at the others, and Ryan.

Ryan’s massaging his temples like he’s got a bitch of a headache.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s just forget I said that. Clearly I should know better by now.”

You’d think, yeah.

Michael watches Gavin and Jeremy as they shuffle out of the room to patch each other up, and shakes his head.

“Hey,” he says, shifting over to the cabinet over the fridge where he hits pay dirt. “Aspirin or Ibuprofen?”

There’s a long-suffering sigh from Ryan and a thump-rattle as he drops down into one of the kitchen chairs at the crappy table that’s literally on its last legs.

“Surprise me.”

========

“You know,” Ryan says, like some washed-up has been drowning his sorrows in a smokey bar somewhere. “Normally I’d be out there with them.”

It’s only been one day – one (1) fucking day – since the incident at the pier, and Gavin and Jeremy are already causing trouble again.

They haven’t made the news yet, but Matt sent them a link to surveillance cameras showing those two morons breaking into a research lab. Not too alarming, because as prone to causing trouble as though two are, they’re fairly competent.

The alarming part comes in with the second link Matt sent, black vans pulling up to the research labs and Merryweather goons spilling out armed to the teeth.

“Sure, sure,” Michael soothes, taking a sharp right. “I know you would, Ryan.”

If Geoff and Jack were in town Ryan would have come up with some other horrifyingly risky  way to pass the time. Maybe fuck with the FIB or IAA directly to get a little of their own back at Agent 14 and Rackman. (He’s still upset they didn’t get to keep the jetpacks after the clusterfuck with Avon and that AI of his.)

Ryan grumbles, shooting Michael these little looks like he knows he’s being humored but not sure what to do about it without seeming more pathetic than he already does.

“I would, though,” he insists stubbornly.

It should be hilarious, this. Ryan deeply worried he’s turned into a responsible adult when it comes to this kind of shit in spite of himself, but in reality it’s just kind of sad.

Michael reaches over to pat his hand comfortingly because Ryan looks like he could use it.

========

Jeremy loses another car and Gavin sprains his ankle. (No one knows how the hell it happened, but hopefully it will slow them down.)

Ryan gets bruised ribs and this scrape on his face due to him not having an iota of common sense when it comes to his own personal safety. (Also, that part where his Zentorno is going to be in the shop for a good long time and Gavin is footing the bill.)

And Michael got a headache of  his own now. (Three of them, really.)

“Here,” Michael says, handing Ryan a can of his precious diet soda. “You look like you need it.”

Ryan snorts, mouth pulling up into a small smile as Michael sits next to him on the couch with a drink of his own.

“Hitting the hard stuff tonight, huh?” he asks, because he’s still an asshole.

Michael rolls his eyes and cracks open his own diet soda.

“Considering the kind of shit those two have been pulling, I’d rather not drink myself into a stupor just yet.”

Ryan hums, this amused little sound and Michael settles next to him, careful not to put pressure against his ribs.

“I have a new appreciation for Geoff and Jack,” Ryan murmurs, as though he’s going to remember this when they're back and he has some bright idea of his own. “Jesus Christ, do I ever.”

Michael snorts, and taps his can against Ryan’s in solidarity.

========

So the whole crew hierarchy thing is kind of bullshit when it comes down to it.

They listen to Geoff for the big ideas because he’s got some good ones mixed in there with all the shitty ones.

But when it comes to making sure everyone comes out of (mostly) in one piece, that tends to fall to Jack and Michael.

This quiet little pact of theirs born out of watching the others run riot all over town and somehow managing to scrape through situations that should have killed them. (Certainly would have killed anyone else.)

When Geoff and Jack head off on their cruise, Ryan gets a note from Geoff telling him to make sure the city’s still there for them to come back to. Make sure the crew’s still there.

Michael, though.

He gets a note from Jack, asking him to keep look out for the others. Namely Ryan, who makes for a good leader, it’s true, but Gavin and Jeremy are terrible human beings who love fucking with Ryan at times like this.

So.

Ryan tries to keep up with those assholes while Michael looks after Ryan, and like some kind of goddamned miracle, it works.

Which is great, because Michael's kind of attached to these assholes.

#myan #ragehappy #background ships #jackeoff #Prompt Fills #Anon #Kings of Nowhere #vagrant fic