#ddemonicpanda

---

Michael Jones is not the name that trails up Gavin's thigh, just before ending at the bottom of his hip. It's not the name Gavin's destined to meet, not the one he's destined to love, not the one he's destined to live the rest of his life with.

But it's the name of the person who never fails to make him laugh. It's the name of the person who understands him the most. It's the name of the person he chose to live his life with.

---

Gavin Free is eight when he realizes that soulmates aren't as wonderful as they're made to be.

In school, he's taught nothing but the good in soulmates. Every person is born with at least one little black blob on their body, and as they get older, their person's name gets easier to read. He's taught to constantly ask people's name. If it's The Name, his soulmate mark would burn brightly, and a sense of completeness would wash over him. (And Gavin's thankful for that, it would be embarrassing if he needed to look down his pants every time he asked for a name.) He's taught that a soulmate is literally the missing piece. Nothing but happiness awaits whenever a soulmate is found.

By age eight, Gavin knows that it's all a load of toss. If a soulmate meant nothing but happiness, why did his parents fight? Why did his mother cry so much, why were there some nights his father refused to come home? He asked his teacher one day. She smiled at him as she bent down, ruffling his hair.

"They're soulmates," she had said simply, "Don't you worry, they'll make up. Everything will be alright, in the end."

Except it didn't get better. His parents screamed at each other. Gavin can't understand what they're saying, he doesn't understand the meaning of the words, but he knows that it's certainly not good. Somewhere during their fights, both of them realized that their words weren't working, so they stopped talking altogether. It lasted a full month before Gavin's dad brought home the papers.

Divorce isn't illegal. It's looked down upon, sure, but it happens. Gavin's heard of it in hushed whispers around the playground, seen the dirty looks the kids would shoot at victims of it, but it's certainly never affected him. And when everything is finalized and his dad leaves, it still doesn't feel real. That wasn't how love happened in the books. Where was the part where everyone made up, like his teacher had said? Wasn't his dad supposed to rush in suddenly one day, and profess his undying love for his mom?

Gavin holds on to the thin glimmer of hope for six months, hoping, praying that his dream will come true, just like in the movies, before it withers out and dies.

-----

Michael presses a lazy kiss to his cheek on one morning. Or, at least, he tries. He's groggy from sleep and ends up kissing Gavin's eye, but Gavin appreciates the sentiment.

"'Ello," he mumbles sleepily, blinking multiple times until he can actually see Michael.

"I didn't know it was possible, but your nose's even bigger in the morning," Michael replies, much to Gavin's confusion.

"What are you on about? A nose can't just grow in the middle of the night!"

"Yours did," Michael says, before rolling over and giving a loud groan and a stretch.

Gavin rolls his eyes and watches him. It's been… god, it's been years now, hasn't it? since he and Michael had gotten together. It's almost worrying to think about all the times he's woken up in Michael's arms. Worrying, but not off-putting.

His soulmate still hasn't shown up yet, and Gavin's thankful for that. He doesn't know what he'll do if he does meet the owner to the Name. He glances at it, frowning, pondering endless what-ifs and hypotheticals he knows he won't have the answer to. When he glances up, Michael's staring at him, before abruptly turning away and grabbing some clothes.

"You getting ready soon?" He asks, as if he hadn't been looking. Gavin nods, as if he hadn't caught Michael looking, and gets up.

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbles, and begins his day.

It's always like that. Gavin pretends that there isn't a real person attached to the Name that burns on his skin, he always hopes that his soulmate doesn't just naively believe. He tries to justify his reasonings, yet every single time, he ends up the loser. After all, he was the one who chose to throw away what destiny called perfect, and screwed his soulmate up in the process.

It's my fault, Gavin thinks to himself, absolutely certain that it's the truth. But when he steals a glance at Michael, who's stolen one of his oversized sweaters, he can't help but add, But I wouldn't change it for the world.

-----

Approximately 97.37% of people have a soulmate. That's another thing Gavin's learned from school. He also knows that Michael is part of 2.63% that doesn't.

Gavin knows that little fact because he asked about it one day, completely drunk while partaking in some swimmy bevs.

He's already shared his sob story, so in his drunken state of mind, he feels Michael should do the same. "Can't, you fucking asshole," Michael groans, pushing Gavin's squirmy body of of him. Gavin flops back-first into water, though he immediately tries to get up and cling on him again, as if it would be convincing.

"Michael, why not, Michael?" Gavin prods at his cheek. "Do you not love me?"

If Gavin hadn't been wasted, he might've felt the way Michael stilled. "Course I do," Michael speaks with an easy confidence, "Doesn't mean I'm going to tell you."

"But why?" Gavin is practically draped across Michael's back. But Michael strong, and the water makes him lighter, so he's sure Michael can handle it. "I told you 'bout mine!"

"I never asked you to!" His voice rises higher in pitch, "You shared it out of your own… volition!" Drunk Michael struggles with the word.

"But it's not fair, Michael! I shared!"

"I just said no one wanted you to-"

"But I did, Michael!" Gavin insists, "I shared!"

"Oh my god, fine!" Michael lets out a huff of exasperation while Gavin cheers victoriously. But he does settle and lean off Michael as he gets up and exits the pool. Gavin frowns. Surely Michael wasn't upset with him?

"I can't share my soulmate's name cause I don't have one," Michael doesn't say it with any anger, he just states it like it's fact.

"Oh," Gavin retreats. Now he's made things awkward. Inwardly, he kicks himself for pushing Michael.

But Michael's continuing, "It's so fucking stupid, how everyone really pushes that soulmate stuff down your throat, when nothing's ever that perfect."

"Yeah," Gavin agrees softly, because that's his sentiments exactly.

"Don't pretend you understand," He hears Michael mutter under his breath.

Gavin all but flails indignantly. "I do understand!" He insists, continuing in a lower tone, "I told you, remember?! My parents are divorced!"

He turns away quickly, not wanting to look for Michael's reaction. They both fall silent, but surprisingly, it's not awkward. Gavin plops up to sit on the edge of the pool and Michael does the same, and they both stare off into the distance.

"I'm sorry," Michael says eventually. There's no pity in his voice, and Gavin couldn't express how thankful he was for that. It's not some token apology either, something to say just to fill up dead air. It means something, Gavin can feel it, so he clears his throat before replying.

"Yeah," he agrees, "me too."

-----

Months afterward, he realizes he loves Michael.

Of course, it's not phrased like that in his mind, it's more like an accumulation of little thoughts, like,  how much he likes Michael's hair, or how he really wants to make him laugh, or how he likes the way Michael's face crinkles up when he smiles, or that he just likes Michael, he really likes Michael…

And then Gavin realizes he's got it bad.

Then there's the messy problem of his Name. It burns almost painfully whenever he thinks of Michael, reminding him that, somewhere, his soulmate is waiting. And a part of him feels guilty, because what if his soulmate's actively searching for him? What would he do if his soulmate showed up?

So Gavin keeps his mouth shut, content to just ignore the problem in hopes it would go away. But despite all that, Michael's the one to confront him. "Alright so," he begins, putting down his headphones, "What the fuck is up with you?"

They're in the Achievement Hunter office, months after what Gavin dubs, 'the Pool Incident'. For once, it's quiet; everyone's gone out for lunch. Gavin (and apparently Michael) had stayed behind to finish editing some videos.

Gavin debates on whether or not he should pretend he didn't hear Michael. He had been dancing around him for the past couple weeks, for two reasons. One, he was in love with Michael. Two, he was in love with Michael.

But, like an utter fool, he finds himself glancing up to face him. He's frowning, looking pointedly at Gavin.

"What do you mean?" Gavin's throat fails him, cracking as if he were a teenager.

"You're won't stay in the same room as me, you don't answer my texts, you barely talk to me during recordings," Michael rattles off, like he prepared for Gavin's answers, "Don't give me shit excuses."

Gavin opens his mouth, but then closes it, thinking. Soulmates were utter crap, he knew that, but they were easier than confronting people. If Michael didn't like him back, then their friendship would be intensely awkward, assuming they would have a friendship at all. Keeping his mouth shut would meant that things could go back to normal. And yet…

"Okay," Gavin agrees, nodding slowly, "It's…" he begins, before trailing off.

Michael continues to stare expectantly. Gavin awkwardly clears his throat. "Um, do remember that time we were having swimmy bevs, and you told me about… you know?"

"Is that what this is about?" Michael doesn't sound angry, he doesn't have any tone at all, and that's what scares Gavin. "That happened months ago."

"No, no!" Gavin backpedals hard, "I don't mean that!"

"Then what do you mean?" Michael asks plaintively.

Shakily, Gavin stands to his feet, figuring he might as well look Michael in the eyes. "I mean… um…"

Silence. Gavin fumbles with words without even getting one out. Michael continues to stare, waiting. Softly, the old analog clock ticks.

Until finally, Michael throws his hands up. "For fuck's sake, I guess I'll do this."

And suddenly, Michael's lips are on Gavin's, more tender than Gavin could've imagined. Gavin's mind grinds to a screeching halt. He can't register what's happening, or how long they've kissed, or how his nose did not get in the way, but somehow, Michael pulls away.

"Oh," Gavin says dumbly, because  oh. Out of all the things Gavin was expecting, a kiss was not one of them. He wants to ask a lot of questions, but instead, he just settles for one. "Why?"

"I'd hope it'd be obvious," Michael shrugs. "Do I need to do it again?"

"Maybe one more time, yeah," Gavin grins dopily, because wow he was not expecting any of this and wow Michael was a bloody good kisser.

Michael complies, and Gavin feels like he's ascended to heaven. It's not as tentative as the first time,  but it's just as sweet. Gavin's nose doesn't get in the way this time either.

Things devolve from there. They don't shag in the office, (because it's the Achievement Hunter office and there are already enough suspicious stains on the carpet) but the group seem to know what's up when they enter after lunch. Geoff gives a shit-eating grin upon seeing them, Ryan and Jack share a knowing look, and Jeremy pretends to be all-knowing and wise by nodding sagely.

It's a good day.

--------

They're at Michael's pool again, and it's years after that exchange, but they're both very much sober. No bevs have been drunk, no dives in the pool were taken. They're both just sitting on the edge of the pool, with their legs absentmindedly kicking in the water. Michael's nursing a can of soda, while Gavin opts to drink no liquid, drinking in the beautiful view of the sunset instead. The sky's filled with warm hues everywhere, and Gavin can't help but soak it all in. His eyes scan everything, before settling on the wonderful view of Michael's face against the sky, staring at him dopily for a while. Michael definitely takes notice, but doesn't say anything until a couples seconds later.

"You gonna stare at me all night, or do you actually want to talk?" He asks, sounding slightly annoyed.

"I can't do both?" Gavin says nervously. Michael rolls his eyes and that reassures Gavin, but he knows if he doesn't start talking now, he never will.

So he clears his throat obnoxiously before starting, wishing he were a little drunk to be more confidant. "So, um, Michael… I love you."

He pauses, trying to think of where he's trying to go. This would be so much easier with a bit of booze in his body.

"Well, I sure hope you do," Michael breaks the silence, "It'd be kinda awkward if you didn't."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Oh, so you don't love me?" Michael feigns shock, "And after all this time-!"

"Michael, shut up you bloody tosspot, that's not what I'm trying to say!" But Gavin's grinning now, and he feels a lot more at ease.

"I love you," he repeats, softly, "I love you a lot. And I want this to last forever."

He doesn't say marriage, nor does he give him a ring, because all marriage has given him is sorrow, but he looks at Michael and he understands. And the Name burns from his side, but he doesn't care. Michael makes him happy, and he wouldn't give that up for anything.

For Gavin Free, nothing could quite compare to sailing down the main roads of Los Santos on the back of a motorbike, one arm wrapped tightly around his boyfriend’s waist, the other extended behind him firing shots at pursuing police units. The thrill of the chase, the wind whipping violently through his hair, the danger of it all--it was second to nothing, and he couldn’t get enough.

“Jesus, Gav, if you actually held onto me with both arms we might be able to get away a bit faster!” Ryan called over the roar of the motorbike engine. His voice echoed tinnily through the comm lodged in Gavin’s ear, and Gavin could pick up the distinct sounds of Michael and Geoff laughing. He grinned, aimed at a cop, and promptly shot off the man’s hat.

“You wouldn’t let me fall, Rye, I have complete faith in you!”

Ryan took a sharp turn down a sideroad and Gavin yelped, lurching forward to wrap his other arm around Ryan’s waist. He could feel the vibrations of Ryan’s deep chuckle as he flattened himself against the taller man’s back.

“Nevermind, you’re a maniac, I never want to ride with you again!” Gavin babbled, sucking in a sharp breath as a series of bullets whizzed past them. Shaking slightly--from the strange mix of fear, adrenaline, and unbridled excitement that he was absolutely used to at this point--Gavin lifted his gun arm and blindly began firing off shots behind them. The sounds of yelling and skidding tires was entirely reassuring.

“I can’t shake these assholes,” Ryan called out over the commotion as Gavin peeled himself off the older man’s back and actually tried to pick off the swiftly growing hoard of police behind them.

“Just keep going down the root, my trigger finger’s getting itchy,” Michael replied. Amid the action, Gavin spared a moment to imagine the redhead poised on a rooftop, detonator gripped tightly in his fist. The Brit grinned as he watched two cops on motorbikes collide as Ryan turned a sharp corner down a slim alleyway.

The day had been run-of-the-mill for the Fakes: bank robbery with a simultaneous jewelry store heist nextdoor. Gavin had put on the gaudiest gold from the front of the store before joining Geoff and Jeremy in the bank vaults. The metal hung warm and heavy from his neck and wrists as he helped stuff armloads of cash and valuables into crates, filling him with a particular sort of glee.

“Try not to blow the both of us up, Michael.”

“No promises, Ryan, Gavin stole my Elite controller last week and still hasn’t given it back.”

The easy banter flowing through the comms became distant background noise as Gavin focused on actually trying not to fall off the motorbike and do himself in on the rough pavement. When they emerged from the alleyway, two more groups of LSPD officers attempted to head them off. Gavin noticed several of the officers were Hybrids, which gave him immense satisfaction--if they had actually had call in Hybrid officers, the Fakes had to have every available member of LSPD on their tails.

A successful heist it was indeed.

“You’re coming up on the detonation point, head’s up.”

Michael’s voice tore Gavin from his own thoughts. Firing his last shot at a cop with rather unsightly antlers, he folded himself back against Ryan, looping both arms securely around the older man’s waist.

“Ready?” Ryan murmured, low enough that the comms couldn’t quite pick it up, and Gavin really felt it more than heard it.

“Always,” the Brit replied, grin spreading across his face.

The motorbike sped past a light pole, and then the world exploded into bright fire and noise and Gavin felt laughter bubbling up through him, roaring heat curling around him.

---

“That was bloody amazing,” Gavin said for the tenth time. Ryan smiled as he climbed off the motorbike and cracked his back. It popped with a satisfying click, and he let out a low groan--being hunched over the thing for two hours was killer on his spine.

“Shall we?” he said after a moment, offering a hand to the Brit. Gavin beamed and linked their fingers together, steering them toward the exit of the garage.

“That was insane, did you see how many cops we had following us?”

Ryan hummed in response, falling quickly into step with the younger man. Just in case, the Fakes had started storing their getaway vehicles in a seperate garage several blocks away from their main tower. Ryan didn’t mind walking the short distance back to headquarters. It gave him a chance to unwind after a heist--and usually a chance to spend some alone time with his boyfriend. Sure, they had plenty of time together, but the weeks before a heist were usually spent together as a crew, and Jack had made the two of them promise not to grope each other during another team planning session. It had been a bit since the two of them had any time to themselves.

The late afternoon sun gleamed bright, catching in the coif of Gavin’s blond hair. The gaudy gold jewelry the younger man had lifted during the heist hung off of him like part of a costume, reflecting the fading beams onto the pavement. Gavin was glowing.

“-and I shot that dude’s hat off, Ryan, it was so fucking funny, I wish you could have seen his face!”

As the two continued toward the main tower, Ryan noticed a hunched figure on the sidewalk up ahead. Wrapped in a shredded blanket and a hat with holes cut out to accommodate her large, rabbit-like ears, the homeless Hybrid looked pitiful. Ryan felt something tug at his heart. He nudged Gavin, who nearly tripped over his own feet.

“What, what is it?”

Ryan didn’t answer, as he had dropped Gavin’s hand and was already approaching the Hybrid. The woman, who had been staring blankly toward the ground, let out a high-pitched scream as Ryan came closer to her. Belatedly, Ryan realized he was still wearing his Vagabond mask and paint, which probably didn’t make him look as well-meaning as he intended.

“Please, ma’am, I don’t want to hurt you, I just wanted to help out,” he said softly, lifting up his hands, palms out. The Hybrid quieted, but her eyes remained wide and weary.

Ryan looked behind him and let out a soft, “Come here!” Gavin came closer, barely even looking at the woman.

“Gimme one of those stupid necklaces,” Ryan muttered. Gavin spluttered and grasped the chains around his neck in his fist.

“But Ryan--”

“Gavin, you have like, fifteen of them, surely you can spare one so a homeless woman can eat tonight,” Ryan deadpanned. Gavin groaned, rolled his eyes, and reluctantly began taking off one of the stolen necklaces, handing it to Ryan with a sigh.

“Thanks, fucker,” Ryan murmured sarcastically. He took a small step closer to the Hybrid, who hadn’t moved an inch. He carefully held out the gold to her, with a smile he knew she couldn’t see, but hoped she could sense.

Slowly, very slowly, the Hybrid stretched out her hand and took the offered necklace. She studied it carefully, then looked at Ryan, a calculating expression on her face.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered in a hoarse voice.

“No problem,” Ryan replied as warmly as he could. With that, he turned on his heel and took hold of Gavin’s hand, yanking him down the street.

“Jesus, Rye, what the hell was that?” Gavin yelped. Ryan rolled his eyes.

“It wouldn’t kill you to be kind to those less fortunate than you, Gav.”

“Yeah, but she’s a Hybrid, she’s just like, she’s not right, she’s a thing, yeah?”

Ryan huffed a sigh--Gavin wasn’t entirely wrong. After the virus had begun spreading into humans at a high pace a few years back, a social hierarchy had formed, with humans firmly on top. Most of the public considered Hybrids as simply intrinsically less, with a small by vocal group calling for group extermination. Ryan wasn’t sure where he stood on the whole Hybrids issue, but he figured no one should be made to starve, and certainly shouldn’t be killed for the sake of “maintaining the purity of humanity,” whatever that meant.

It was confusing as shit and Ryan often longed for the previous decade.

“Maybe I just wanted you to take off all that ridiculous bling before a crow came down to peck our eyes out,” Ryan said tiredly. Another grin spread across his face at the sound of Gavin’s spluttering.

“Hey, you take that back, this shit is fucking fantastic--”

---

“Now, that heist last week was super successful,” Geoff declared from the head of the long table. Michael let out a whoop and high-fived Jeremy, Jack shooting them a fond look. Gavin glanced toward Ryan, who was leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face.

“But, but, we’ve got some other shit to deal with,” continued Geoff. Michael sobered quickly--kiss-ass, Gavin thought--and cleared his throat.

“What’s up, boss?”

“One of the other crews here in Los Santos, the Gremlins, want to meet up to discuss a possible truce. Apparently one of the local arms dealers has been screwing them on pricing and they think the influence of Fake AH could help persuade him to lower his rates.”

Gavin perked up, eyes darting over to Ryan, then back at Geoff. Truce talks mean negotiation, and negotiation means The Golden Boy and his personal guard, the Vagabond. Tendrils of excitement fluttered in his stomach at the thought of it.

“So we need to send in Gavin and Ryan first, see what’s up and figure out preliminary negotiations. After they get back we’ll get together again and see what we can do. If we can get the Gremlins on our side, even if it’s only for a bit, we could really make some headway on regaining our San Andreas territory.” Geoff had what Gavin called the ‘evil genius’ expression on--the look he really only got when the thought of total territory control sucked him in.

“Gavin, Ryan, do you want any of us to come with you? The Gremlins have a nasty track record of showing up with reinforcements,” Jack asked. Gavin shook his head, meeting Ryan’s gaze. They could handle it together.

“We’ve got this, thanks Jack,” Ryan replied from across the table.

“Jack, you forgot, this is Gavin and Ryan’s weird sex thing,” Jeremy said with a laugh, “You don’t want to be around them when they do negotiations.”

Michael promptly burst into a fit of laughter, with Geoff close behind. Gavin let out an exasperated sigh but smiled all the same. The others often poked fun at he and Ryan spending time together, but this far in the game, it really didn’t both him. Besides, the two of them could go for a nice evening on the town after the meetup, perhaps rent a room at one of the downtown highrise hotels and order the most expensive champagne on the room service menu…

Maybe Jeremy wasn’t entirely wrong about it being a sex thing.

---

Gavin had been Geoff Ramsey’s Golden Boy for years, and he loved it. The power that came from his status filled him with a kind of personal satisfaction that was rivaled only by giving Ryan an orgasm and convincing Ryan to do dumb shit with him.

Being the Golden Boy meant putting on ridiculously expensive clothing, styling his hair with an ungodly amount of product, and wearing the most horrendous golden sunglasses he could find. It was like armour, in a way--his protection against those beneath him, who would have him destroyed were it not for the sheer amount of power Gavin held over them.

Being the Golden Boy meant talking pretty, taking no shit, and getting what he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he was pretty damn good at it. The reputation he had garnered certainly helped--

Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or he’ll set his Vagabond on your ass.

Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or he’ll make sure the next Fake AH heist is pinned on your crew.

Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or you won’t be walking around for much longer.

Power-trip didn’t remotely begin to express what Gavin experienced.

He loved living amid the whispered fear, his cold exterior proper protection against any and all who dared to oppose him. It had taken him so long, so many years to get to where he was, and he fucking loved it.

---

“I don’t like this,” Ryan murmured and he and Gavin approached the abandoned shipping port warehouse the Gremlins had requested as a meeting spot. Decked in his full body armour, assault rifle strapped to his back, Ryan felt out of place on the small pier, and a shiver of discomfort pulled in the pit of his stomach.

“They won’t try anything, Rye. And even if they do, we can handle it.” Gavin had already slipped into his Golden Boy persona, meaning his words were dripping with a elegant venom that Ryan thought was the funniest thing in the world.

(He had seen Gavin at 7 AM with wild bedhead cradling a cup of coffee, nearly drowning in one of Ryan’s shirts, looking at him with wide doe eyes glittering in the morning light like emeralds--soft, vulnerable, adorable, nothing like the sharp angles and cold metal of Gavin’s favorite presentation.)

Which also meant that he was going to be an awful prick for the next half hour, because Golden Boy Gavin was the ultimate, sure-of-himself, know-it-all asshole. It was arguably the worst part of being the muscle during the negotiation meetings.

“Whatever you say,” Ryan replied tersely, squaring his shoulders and wrenching the warehouse doors open.

They’re greeted by four members of the Gremlins sitting around a card table in the center of the warehouse, dim fluorescent lighting painting shadows along the walls. The crew members appeared to be playing some kind of game with throwing knives, with several lodged in a post several feet away. At the sound of the doors opening, a tall brunet looked up, knife poised above his head.

“Ah, the Golden Boy has arrived,” he announced, lowing his arm and indicating for the other Gremlin members to stand. Ryan scanned them quickly: two other men and a woman, all lean muscle and utterly blank expressions. Not too hard to take out if need be.

“Please, no need to stand. We’re just having a casual little chat, yeah?” Gavin said smoothly, his syllables drawn out ever so slightly. Ryan felt a sharp spike of admiration shoot through him like a lightning bolt as he watched Gavin’s controlled composure, the way he moved as if he owned the room and everyone in it. There was a reason they usually had sex after negotiation talks…

The meeting went about the same as others--the tall brunet making a request of a truce for a temporary period, Gavin explaining the usual Fake AH terms, all routine and something Ryan usually tuned out in favor of trying to intimidate the Gremlin guards.

It was slightly childish, but Ryan never claimed to not be immature, so he stood straight and proud and practiced spinning and throwing a small dagger he always kept strapped to his thigh. Gavin had gotten it for him when the two had gone on a weekend excursion to a renaissance festival in the northern part of the state, jokingly asking if Ryan could take anyone out with it before they left the faire grounds. He had refrained, but only because it was a nice weekend and it would have been a hassle to make a hasty getaway back to Los Santos.

“So that’s it then,” Gavin said loudly, signaling Ryan to be on alert just in case. Some crews would try and pull something right when they were leaving, which Ryan thought was just dirty and wrong.

“Actually, there’s one more thing,” the brunet said, standing and motioning for one of the other crew members. Ryan watched carefully as the woman nodded and walked swiftly over to one of the warehouse walls. The sound of mechanical beeps echoed through the empty space, and Ryan realized with a sinking heart that there must have been some sort of control panel on the wall.

“Nathanial, what exactly are you--” Gavin started, a hard edge in his voice. Ryan tore his eyes away from the woman to Gavin and the taller man, ready to jump in should the need arise.

“I’m so sorry, fellas,” the brunet said conversationally, reaching under his seat and withdrawing what appeared to be a gas mask, “But you see, we don’t actually have any problems with any arms dealers. We just wanted to get some Fake AH members down here so we could test out this concentrated virus sample we got our hands on. It was fucking expensive, so it’s a good thing we got ourselves the Vagabond and the Golden Boy, huh?”

Ryan was debating the relative merits of just throwing his dagger at the woman over at the wall when a faint hissing noise began emanating from the ceiling. All of the Gremlin members had donned identical masks, and the brunet’s eye gleamed from beneath his.

Not quite thinking, Ryan threw himself forward and grabbed the stunned Gavin by the wrist--unfortunately, his reaction times tended to suffer when he got into the Golden Boy headspace--and ran toward the warehouse door. He didn’t stop running until they were back in the empty lot they had parked in.

The ride back to base was silent. It usually took a bit of time for Gavin to return to what Ryan categorized as “normal,” and when things went wrong, that time usually doubled. Ryan, meanwhile, usually brooded over his own mistakes, thanking everything under the sun that Gavin hadn’t been physically injured.

“We need to check ourselves into quarantine,” Ryan finally said as he navigated the car into the garage. This seemed to snap Gavin out of whatever dimension he had slipped into, as his head whipped around to face Ryan and his mouth dipped into a deep frown.

“Ryan, the absolute last thing I need right now is to be put in a sterile room and poked at by people in protective gear,” he growled cooly. Ryan matched his frown, wishing he could let himself and Gavin curl up in their shared bed as they decompressed.

“Gavin, we were just exposed to some sort of mystery virus. This could be anything, it could be lethal, we need to get checked out and make sure we aren’t the fucking, typhoid Marys of the demon disease apocalypse or something.”

Logic rarely worked on Golden Boy Gavin, and now was no exception. Gavin remained nonplused, and Ryan let out a huff through his nose.

“I swear to God, Gavin, if you don’t come to quarantine I’ll carry you there myself.”

---

Gavin woke in stages. Everything felt hazy and weird and he couldn’t quite remember where he was. His eyes peeled open slowly, and the harsh fluorescent lights made his head pound.

That’s when the last few days came back, clear as a bell: the negotiation with the Gremlins that went wrong, the admittance into quarantine, the repeated battery of tests for foreign pathogens. Caleb and the rest of the med team couldn’t find anything wrong with either of them, but decided keeping Gavin and Ryan in quarantine for a few days wouldn’t be the end of the world. Gavin just wanted out so he could talk with Geoff about just how to get back at those lying little shits.

Then Gavin got tired--a bone-tired that felt like his entire being needed to go to sleep for years. He couldn’t tell if hours or days had passed since he let himself fall into the inky depths of sleep.  

He shifted on the cot, uncomfortable, then promptly froze. Something was sticking into his back. Something boney and angular and soft--

Gavin tilted his head and felt his entire body still.

He had wings.

He hadn’t had wings when he had gone to sleep. He certainly hadn’t had wings when he went to go talk with the fucking Gremlin negotiators.

He had wings.

Thoughts refused to process. A few moments later, stunned and angry and scared, Gavin faded back into deep, dreamless sleep.

---

Ryan stared at his reflection in the polished hospital bay mirror. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make the horns on the top of his head go away. They were stark white, curved inward, and sharp as a knife. He had nearly drawn blood when he first touched them.

The Gremlins had somehow gotten their hands on a concentrated hybrid virus sample, the bastards. Caleb had explained that, in the grand scheme of viral warfare, they could have gotten into something much worse. Ryan had just nodded and marveled at the strange experience of having a fucking tail.

It hadn’t occurred until he was alone that, for all intents and purposes, the Vagabond was dead.

For years, Ryan had been the Vagabond: the enigma, the night-terror, the masked assassin who could kill you in one hundred different ways of varying creativity. Everyone feared the Vagabond. Gavin had been absolutely terrified of him when he first joined the crew. Admittedly, he had rarely taken on off his mask around anyone, and the mask was an important element of being the Vagabond.

He had liked that power, in the same way he assumed Gavin enjoyed the power of his whole Golden Boy persona. He liked that he wasn’t pushed around, wasn’t underestimated. People feared him, yes, but respected him all the same. Everyone knew not to get on the Vagabond’s bad side.

And now the Vagabond was a Hybrid.

No one respected Hybrids. Sure, lots of people pitied Hybrids, sympathized with them and felt bad for them, but no one respected them. They were jokes, less-than, creatures. There were crowds of people calling for segregation, removal of rights, extermination--

The Vagabond was dead. The Gremlins had killed him.

---

When Gavin woke again, it was to the feeling of someone carding their fingers through his hair. The comforting gesture eased him gently out of sleep, and for a moment, everything was normal.

Then his back twinged in discomfort and everything crashed down again and dammit, he was crying.

“Gavin--” Ryan started, his hands coming to a stop on Gavin’s head. The younger man flipped heavily onto his side, back toward his boyfriend, and silently willed Ryan to go back to stroking his hair as tears streamed steadily down his face.

For a few moments, the two stayed still. Gavin watched blankly as his vision blurred, his mind entirely blank.

“Are you alright, Gavin?”

Ryan’s voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet of the room like a knife. Gavin’s still, silent meltdown shattered like glass, giving way to an intense fury and frustration that distantly shocked him. He sat bolt upright and turned to face Ryan, eyes burning and heart pounding.

“No, Ryan, I am not alright,” he said thickly, fighting around a lump in his throat, “Because I’m a bloody Hybrid and I have lost literally everything I’ve fought for. You think I can go out and be a powerful negotiator with these fucking wings? You think anyone will ever take the Golden Boy seriously if he’s got feathers flapping behind him?

No one gives a shit about Hybrids. It’s easy to take down a Hybrid. They’re weak, they’re useless, they don’t have power or glory or respect. I’ve lost fucking everything that Geoff helped me get. I’ll end up back on the streets, just like before, picking pockets and eating scraps and getting kicked and beaten because of this virus. I’ve got nothing.”

Gavin quieted as a round of heavy sobs ripped through his throat, overcoming him. He hunched forward, his crying turned harsh and ugly and raw. The entire time, Ryan remained quiet, and Gavin almost started yelling again, because Ryan always had some sort of logic to apply to a situation. His continued silence just further confirmed everything Gavin feared.

After what felt like an eon, Gavin felt himself run out of tears. It was like someone had turned off a faucet--one moment, water streamed from his eyes, the next, nothing. His breathing evened out, and his lungs ached for air and water. Through it all, though, there was an underlying feeling of relief, but Gavin stubbornly ignored it.  

“You didn’t lose everything.”

Gavin quickly looked up and blearily stared at Ryan. He had almost missed the older man’s words.

“You didn’t lose everything, Gavin.”

Suddenly, Gavin was being wrapped up in Ryan’s arms, the older man sliding down onto the bed and pulling the Brit into a tight embrace. Gavin felt his hands briefly sweep past the wings on his back, pulling away quickly each time he touched them as if they had burned him. All the same, Ryan held him, cradled him in his arms and melded their bodies together. Gavin buried his face in Ryan’s neck, sniffling.

“What do I have left?”

“Me, you idiot.”

Gavin huffed out a laugh and nuzzled into Ryan’s neck, nearly buzzing as Ryan rubbed soothing circles on his lower back. For a while, the two lay together, wrapped up in one another. Gavin felt his breathing hitch every so often, a soft hiccup catching him by surprise more than once. Soon, though, he was able to match Ryan breath for breath, and a sort of numb contentment flooded his body.

It was only then that he realized Ryan had horns.

---

Things were slow going for a while. When the others first saw them, Gavin couldn’t help but feel hurt by their stares. He knew, deep down, that the other four couldn’t give less of a shit if they tried, but deep social prejudice is hard to beat. Gavin was still struggling to wrap his brain around it.

But after a while, things returned to vaguely normal. Heists were planned, video games were played. Michael and Jeremy wrestled with Gavin after dinner, rolled around on the ground with him and Geoff egged them on and Jack rolled his eyes and Ryan ignored them in favor of cleaning his guns. But it still felt off.

(Gavin had to cut holes in all his shirts and jackets. Well, in honesty, he convinced Lindsay to do it for him, because he was notoriously bad at cutting straight lines, and he would rather not accidentally shred his entire wardrobe.

Taking showers was admittedly easier than he expected. His shower was spacious enough to accommodate the wings, and said wings were rather water resistant. He probably should have done a bit of research on birds, but the thought of doing so made his stomach turn uncomfortably, so he supposed he could figure shit out himself.

He wondered, occasionally, if he could attempt flight. But then he remembered that he wasn’t the hugest fan of heights in general.)

Gavin struggled through the foggy depression that had settled over him. Things became rather difficult, he realized, when your entire life changed. When every stigma and prejudice he once held was suddenly turned inwards. When he couldn’t walk down the street without feeling the judgmental stares of hundreds. When he caught sight of his sunglasses and hair gel and a cold, isolating hurt settled into his bones.

The Golden Boy was no more. Everything Geoff had given him, everything that he had built up and the reputation he had worked so hard to maintain, was gone. The power, the glory, the legend, it was all gone.

Because no one listened to a Hybrid. No one respected a Hybrid. No one held a full conversation with a Hybrid. The Golden Boy was a Hybrid now, and that was as good as a death sentence.

The final nail in the coffin was when Geoff sent Michael and Jack to the next negotiation talk.

“It would probably be for the best they went,” Geoff reasoned, eyes soft and pitying, making something deep in Gavin burn bright hot with anger, “We’ll figure this out Gavin, but just, for right now, let’s do it this way.”

So things weren’t great.

---

Ryan gave himself two weeks to feel sorry for himself. For two weeks, he moped around the tower, cleaned his gun repeatedly, and played through the entire campaign of Skyrim--twice. At his final count, he had consumed forty-six cans of Diet Dr. Pepper.

But after the two weeks were up, Ryan went back to his normal schedule. He woke up early, he worked out, he ate breakfast, he went about normal business. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Every time he picked up his Vagabond mask, he felt nauseous. He thought of how he horns would protrude through the top and it made his head throb. While Geoff hadn’t outright said it, Ryan could sense that they were going to need to discuss the Vagabond’s involvement in further heists. Perhaps Ryan would participate maskless...

He couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

He supposed the worst thing to come out of this whole thing was that he and Gavin had barely spent any time together whatsoever. They had both retreated to their separate rooms after being released from quarantine, but that was weeks ago, and they hadn’t said more than three sentences to each other since that afternoon in Gavin’s hospital room.

It was starting to drive Ryan insane.

The two of them had only been dating for a few months before this whole thing happened, and now, Ryan feared, it seemed like it was all over.

So he gave himself a week to wallow before resolving to actually fucking talk to Gavin so he could figure out if he needed to mourn their relationship and move on or what.

The hard part was plucking up the courage to actually talk to Gavin. It seemed as if the younger man had put up walls to go along with his wings, because he never once looked approachable. Even when Michael or Jeremy had him pinned to the floor, the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Ryan hated it. He missed Gavin like a hole in his goddamn heart, and he need him, dammit! Had he not also just gone through a huge emotional and physical trauma?

He needed the comfort of his boyfriend as much as his boyfriend probably needed him.

---

Gavin was nuzzled into the couch, tapping away at some dumb game on his phone, when he felt the cushions dip next to him. Locking his phone, Gavin turned to face his visitor and felt a bit shocked to see Ryan sitting on the couch next to him, looking nervously at his hands.

The man looked slightly gaunt. A healthy dusting of stubble had sprouted along his jaw, and his hair was mused and slightly wild, the bright-white horns nestled in it poking out proudly. Gavin realized it had probably been a week since he had focused his attention on Ryan, let alone had a conversation with him. An anxious guilt spread through him.

“Hi, Rye.”

The words shocked him as they came out, as he hadn’t thought he was going to say anything. Ryan seemed equally surprised, looking up and meeting Gavin’s eyes. A warm spark of joy bounced around Gavin’s chest at the familiar gaze.

“Hi Gavin.”

Gavin let out a soft laugh at Ryan’s soft tone.

“So, we haven’t had much of a talk in a while, huh?”

“You could say that,” Ryan said with a sigh, tilting his gaze back toward his hands. Gavin mourned the loss of it before continuing.

“Well, I guess we should talk now, then.”

“We should.”

Another bout of silence filled the living room.

“Okay, look, we’re both fucked up right now. This is just, a really fucked up situation. We’re both too inside our own heads and everything’s been turned sideways and we both just want everything to go back to normal.”

Gavin smiled widely at Ryan’s words, and motioned for him to continue.

“So I’m going to be honest. I...I don’t know how to fix this. I feel so goddamn lost right now, because I can’t be the Vagabond anymore, not the way I was before. And I know you can’t be the Golden Boy or whatever, either, because humanity sucks and people are assholes and there’s nothing we can do to fix that right now.

But I know that I really fucking miss me and you. I miss holding you and kissing you and arguing about dumb shit together. I miss my boyfriend. I miss you, Gavin.”

“I miss you too,” Gavin whispered, heart beating fast for some reason. He hadn’t realized just how alone and scared he had been for the past few weeks until Ryan said it, vocalized his fears and everything he was thinking. Gavin loved how he could do that, put things into words and make it pretty and simple, even though this situation was everything but that.

“Then let’s get through this together,” said Ryan, taking Gavin’s hands in his own and leaning their foreheads together, “Let’s stick together and figure out how we fix this because we have each other and no one can take that away from us.”

“Okay,” Gavin murmured, pulling away slightly, “Just don’t gouge my eyes out with those.” He eyed Ryan’s horns jokingly, and Ryan let out a loud laugh before pulling him into a deep kiss. Gavin groaned, eyes slipping closed, and he felt every bone in his body relax as he returned the kiss. It was passionate and slow and full of promise, love.

Even as Gavin swiped his tongue playfully against the seam of Ryan’s lips, he knew that this wasn’t a precursor to sex. It was a precursor to their new future, the new start for both of them. They could, they would get through this, together. The Golden Boy and the Vagabond would pull through.