#michael-centric

*

It is too early for this shit.

Michael’s eyes are half-lidded as he hunts for a cold RedBull. He curses when he realizes that Gavin’s stupid bragging about having the last chilled energy drink is true — the fridge is empty. Grumbling darkly, Michael slams the fridge door closed, sourly thinking to himself Gavin didn’t even need it that bad while sorely rubbing his tired eyes.

It was Friday – all he had to do was survive the rest of the day and then he could pass out at home on the couch, hopefully with Ray beside him.

They’d spent the night on the couch, co-op completing an insanity run for a video scheduled for tomorrow. Gavin had cheered them on before giving up halfway through and falling asleep on the couch. Michael and Ray eventually finished, but the cost was steep – practically no sleep and work the next day.

Hell, Ray’s probably snoozing at his desk as Michael continues to stare absently at the wall in front of him.

Cursing to himself, Michael hunts around in search of a pick-me-up. There are no Monsters or Redbulls — crunch time for the animators often left the kitchen ransacked. There is some coffee left, however. Pouring himself a big cup, Michael takes a swallow that burns a trail down the back of his throat.

“Yes,” he groans in satisfaction, the caffeine already causing his eyes to bug slightly. He sets the cup down on the counter and savors the feeling.

A light tap on his shoulder rouses him out of his doze, and he turns slowly, stifling a yawn and blinking.

He misses the view of a fist flying at his face.

Pain explodes in his nose, the shockwave from the powerful punch sending him reeling. Back hitting the front of the fridge, his hands automatically shoot up to cover his nose. Something warm and wet slicks his fingers, and curses fall freely from his lips.

Rough hands grab his shoulders and throw him to the ground, his right wrist colliding painfully with the hard tile when he tries to catch himself. As he hits the floor, feet thud by him, four men dressed in all black stampeding into the rest of the building. Screams pierce the air.

A similarly dressed figure grabs the front of Michael’s shirt and yanks him to his feet. Michael is crowded back into the front entrance hall, forcefully shoved against the wall that connects the lobby to the AH office.

The man has slick brown hair and startling black eyes, the color seeming oddly out of place in his face. The predatory bloodlust in his eyes give Michael pause, his stomach churning, palms sweating.

“Where are all the entrances?” the man demands in a silky voice. Michael glances down, spotting a firearm clipped to the man’s waist.

Michael licks his lips and tastes blood, looking back into the man’s stare with wide eyes. Despite the fear resting shrill and biting on his tongue, his voice comes out detached and cold as he says, “I don’t know.”

The man’s sharp eyes narrow, one hand releasing Michael’s shirt so he can press his forearm into Michael’s throat.

“You lyin’ to me, you little shit?” the man growls, voice gruff. “Where are the entrances to the building?”

Michael swallows, the motion tight and uncomfortable against his Adam’s apple. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them: “Fuck you, that’s where they are.”

The man looks surprised, easing up on his throat as he double-takes. He’s about to reply, but when one of his… cohorts rounds the corner, the man once more digs the edge of his forearm into Michael’s windpipe.

“Should we start rounding up?” the new man asks knowingly, looking at Michael with a critical eye. He’s tall with black spiky hair and small, brown eyes. “The upstairs and downstairs are gathered in warehouse in back. One outside entrance, no windows; the safest.”

Michael’s attacker nods in agreement, looking pleasantly surprised at this good news.

“The other men are checking the rest of the building as we speak,” the man continues. “Going through rooms.”

Michael’s heart stills in his chest. His boyfriends are holed up just feet from them, oblivious to the sudden disaster that is quickly unraveling at Rooster Teeth. Gus’ office is empty, the older man away on a trip with Burnie and Joel in Australia. If possible, Michael’s stomach sinks lower, mind working quickly and realizing that with Matt out of the office for a meeting, only Geoff is left as one of the main supervisors. The thought of his oldest lover in such a dangerous situation make Michael’s hands clench against the wall.

True to Michael’s prediction, the second man turns to leave the entrance hall but hesitates upon seeing the closed black door. He widens his stance and places one hand on the doorknob, the other unsheathing the weapon from his hip.

Michael has no real explanation for his behavior. Panic overrides him. The sight of the gun — the real, glimmering metal, the glint of cold and unforgiving steel under the lights — forces his mind out of its shocked state, and he bursts from his captor’s grip, easily breaking the light hold on his neck.

He lunges at the man, ignoring the gun entirely as he tackles him, yelling the entire time. His voice is deafening. The loud scream bounces off the walls, familiar in tone but foreign with the thick layer of actual fear, actual emotion behind what is normally mindless shouting.

He has a brief moment to wonder if his friends and coworkers thought he was dying as he and the man crash to the floor. He has no time, however, to yell out any sort of warning to his boyfriends when rough, unforgiving hands wrap tight around his throat from behind, his desperate shriek cutting off with a choked snarl. He feels the man he’d tackled moving out from under him, Michael able to do nothing but gasp for air as he scrambles for purchase on the fingers clenching around his windpipe.

Once the other man was out from under him, the hands relax, and Michael wheezes in gulps of air. The hands move to his hair, finding a good handful and dragging Michael to his feet.

His original attacker meets his eyes with a shockingly light gaze, looking more curious than anything else.

The door to the Achievement Hunter office opens with a loud bang.

“Michael—?” Gavin starts.

All goes quiet at the scene just in front of the door, confusion and terror engulfing his expression.

Geoff’s quick on his feet when he wants to be, but the time it takes him to go from his desk to in front of Gavin has to be a record.

Michael can pick out the moment Geoff realizes what exactly is happening; his eyes go flat, devoid of all emotion and looking, quite frankly, dead.

“Do not move,” the man warns, clicking off the safety and pointing the barrel directly at Geoff’s chest. Geoff doesn’t hesitate to raise his hands in a show of submission, not moving but instead watching the man closely.

The man kicks the black door open wider, exposing the rest of the AH crew in the room. It’s almost comical — their synchronized paralyzation.

“Out,” the man with the pulled gun barks, swinging the barrel towards the hallway in obvious encouragement.

No one moves, the only sound their shuddered breathing.

“Out, out,” the man demands, voice rising.

Geoff gives the man a wide berth as he steps from the room. The rest of the Hunters follow, stunned.

A sharp tug in his hair makes Michael’s breath hitch as he looks back to his own personal tormentor. As the gun-wielding man herd his boyfriends into the other part of the building, the man in front of Michael seems to have no drive to do so. Instead, he leans into Michael, pressing Michael into the wall.

“I like you,” the man decides, grinning. “I like mouthy people. They remind me of my ex-partner. Tend to have a lot of fight in ‘em.”

Michael’s voice is miraculously steady when he spits, “Get the fuck off me.”

“I killed him, so I’d know,” the man continues.

Michael jerks his shoulders, pulling against the man’s hold. His scalp burns where the man has a fist buried.

The man smiles, as if expecting that response. His hand gradually loosens, sliding the red, curly strands through his fingers as he lowered his hand. It’s creepy and disturbing — he has no regard for Michael’s personal space. He drags his hand down, toughened digits lightly grazing over Michael’s lower lip.

Michael flinches back, lip tingling unpleasantly at the unfamiliar touch. A bad feeling has settled in pit of his stomach. The look in the man’s eyes make the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

This is not seriously happening right now, is all Michael can think. This is fucking Vin Diesel meets Bruce Willis action-movie shit. This doesn’t happen in real life, not to him.

A thoughtful expression crosses the man’s face before he suddenly decides against whatever sick idea had struck him earlier. Grabbing a healthy fistful of Michael’s hair, he bodily pulls Michael through the familiar hallways.

He slams open the Warehouse door and practically tosses Michael in. His head spins and there’s been blood still dripping down his chin, but he catches himself and looks around.

The entire company is holed up in here. Everyone they could find, Michael suspects, but his stomach sinks when he realizes that it seems like everyone’s here. No one had escaped to call 9-1-1. A sea of familiar faces turn to look at him with matching, plate-sized eyes and pale complexions.

The company, which currently consists of about sixty people, is gathered at one end of the Warehouse, where the desks have been pushed against the walls to make a large, clear space in the middle of the floor.

Four men with large guns, not including Michael’s personal psycho, stand by the Warehouse’s only exit.

Michael is roughly pushed to join his coworkers. Hands grab him by the arms and he’s tugged to the back. The Warehouse is pitch black, and it isn’t until the person who’s pulling him speaks that he knows who it is.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Michael assures Barbara. She nods shakily, clearly in shock. “Fucker sucker punched me.”

“I can see that,” a different voice spits out. Barbara vanishes back into the crowd. Michael nearly melts in relief at the voice of his boss. Turning to face Geoff, it’s hard to refrain from throwing himself into the man’s tattooed arms.

“Geoff,” Michael says breathlessly. His eyesight swims, but he grins dopily.

Geoff’s mouth tightens. He pulls Michael into a suffocating, brief hug, patting his shoulder harder than normal. “Goddammit, Michael. You scared the dick out of me. Gavin opens the door and suddenly we’ve been cast in a fucking action movie.”

“You’re telling me,” Michael mutters, throat tightening. He has to take a few deep breaths to focus.

“Where are the others?” Michael asks, worried, eyes searching for the faces of their other boyfriends as they begin walking back to the front of the crowd. There’s no answer. Michael glances up.

Geoff is looking down at him, surprised and seemingly irritated. “What?” Michael says defensively.

“Why the hell are you following me, Michael?” Geoff snaps, real anger burning in his tone. Clenching his jaw and breathing through his nose, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “Go all the way to the back of the warehouse, by the wall. Jack and the others are there.”

“What? No, I’m with you—”

“I’m not fucking around, Michael,” Geoff says, and Michael suddenly has no delusions that he was. “Go sit with the others. Don’t you dare come anywhere near the front. I’m going to find Joel and we’re going to handle this. They probably just want — want money or something.”

Michael doesn’t miss the slight hesitation. “Robbing Rooster Teeth,” he hisses sarcastically. “Right. Joel’s not even here. I’m coming with yo—”

“No, you aren’t,” Geoff says, setting his jaw. He places his hands on Michael’s shoulders and the low murmur of the crowd seems to fade as Geoff’s intense stare bores into Michael’s eyes. “Go to Jack. Hold Gavin’s stupid hand and let Ray wipe the blood off your nose. Keep your fucking head low, don’t pull any stunts, and for God’s sake stay away from that freak who nearly choked you in the hallway.”

Michael deflates. He stares into Geoff’s eyes, soaking in the dark, stormy gray chaos that saturates the expression. The sight makes Michael nauseous. Those aren’t Geoff’s normal eyes; not his bedroom ones, not his AHWU ones, and not even his teasing ‘I love you’ ones. They’re his army eyes.

“Okay,” Michael whispers numbly. His chest is tight as he swallows and nods.

Shoulder’s lightening with relief, Geoff’s expression clears. Leaning down, he kisses Michael softly, only for the briefest of moments before departing from the younger with a firm pat on the head. With an unhappy expression, Michael watches him push his way through the people.

The faces around him blur into the same face of fear, fear, fear as Michael heads to the back wall. People mill around him, many counting heads, and too many familiar faces are tear-streaked and bloodied. Michael swallows down his nausea and tries to push the images out of his mind, knowing that the panic and sudden rush of this is real, this is happening isn’t going to help.

“Get over here — Christ—” curses a voice right by his ear. Michael jumps and nearly throws a fist at the person who grips his left bicep, but upon seeing Ryan’s pale, worried face, Michael stops.

“Ryan,” he sighs in relief.

Ryan, meanwhile, seems beyond words. He pulls Michael through the crowd at a much faster pace.

Gavin, Ray, and Jack pace worriedly near the back wall. Ray and Gavin are holding hands and walking together, but Jack keeps a few feet of distance between them as he makes shorter, more furious steps. Michael’s stomach flips at the sight of blood on the bearded man’s lip.

“Jack!” he calls out reflexively, beginning to rush forward. Ryan’s tight, rather painful grip on his arm nearly yanks him off his feet when the blond’s hand didn’t budge.

“Don’t make it noticeable,” Ryan hisses before letting Michael go.

“What?” Michael says dumbly as Jack, Gavin, and Ray broke from their repetitive steps and trot towards them.

“Don’t make it obvious that you care about them more just friends,” Ryan explains in a tight voice, just as Jack reaches him.

The bearded man leans down and wraps burly arms around Michael’s shoulders in a brief but heartfelt hug. He lets go almost immediately, just as Gavin flings himself into Michael’s arms. Ray physically tears them apart after throwing a sharp glance at Ryan and an even sharper glance at the men standing by the doors holding the guns.

Ray steps forward and tilts Michael’s head up with a finger under his chin. Squinting in the dim light, Ray tsks. “I dunno… It doesn’t look broken.”

“They snuck up on me in the kitchen,” Michael mumbles.

Ryan gingerly taps him on the nose. Michael winces and makes a face, but it’s only a dulled pain. Ryan nods in approval. “Definitely not broken. Come on, you’re not going anywhere near the front. You’ve had enough action for… for a lifetime.”

Michael laughs weakly and follows without complaint. He lets Gavin guide and seat him on the floor. Ray takes his chin in hand and furiously scrubs the dried blood off Michael’s chin.

“Ridiculous,” Michael mutters, looking at the ceiling while Ray worked on his upper lip. “God, even my fucking wrist hurts. What’s happening? Who are they?”

“Robbers,” Ryan says darkly, sliding onto the desk next to Michael. He’s careful to keep his distance. Catching Michael’s expression, he adds, “Not robbing RT. A few blocks over — we were unlucky enough to be the building they’ve chosen to hold hostage.”

“Hostage,” Michael echoes. He’s heard the word often, especially in video games. He never thought it would apply to him one day. “We’re hostages.”

“I don’t think we’re in much danger,” Ryan assures. “They don’t seem to want to kill anyone.”

The sentence’s spoken so casually. When Michael finally digests it, he jolts slightly. “Right,” he says in a breathy voice. “That’s… good. That’s great.”

Ryan glances at him and lifts a hand to rub his back gently. Michael leans into the touch and takes solace in Ryan’s words: “I’m sorry. It’s okay, we’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael says. “I know, Rye-bread. I’m good. What’s Geoff doing? Can you see him?”

“Geoff’s being the grown up,” Ryan replies. “He’s experienced in this. He knows what to say and not say. Don’t worry, boys, it’s fine. We’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t want Geoff to be the grown up,” Michael growls. Completely unsupervised tears spring unbidden to his eyes at the insanity of it all.

This isn’t fair. Why is this happening to them?

“Michael?” Ryan asks in concern, stepping closer. He looks faintly surprised at the sight of watery, russet eyes. “Michael, it’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael snaps, wiping the tears away with haste. “I’m just tired.”

Well, it wasn’t a lie.

“Just relax,” Ryan suggests, but it sounds suspiciously like an order.

Standing, Michael turns back to the front of the building. Two lights by the entrance silhouette the men standing there. They shift around, restless and clearly nervous.

Good, Michael mentally hisses. I hope they fucking get caught.

“I can’t see Geoff,” Michael says, voice tight with distress. “I can’t fucking see anyone, it’s so goddamn dark in here.”

“You don’t need to see Geoff, you need to keep your head down,” Jack snaps at him. Michael’s mouth clicks shut, staring at the bearded man in stunned silence. Chocolate eyes stare back at him for a long moment before melting slightly in apology.

“Jack’s right,” Ryan says calmly. “No loud noises, don’t stick your neck out for anyone right now.”

“How could you say that?” Michael blurts angrily. “This is our company, our friends—”

“I realize that, Michael, but right now you come before any of them. You, Geoff, Jack, Ray, and Gavin are my top priority.”

“And yourself,” Jack says aggressively.

“And myself,” Ryan allows.

Michael’s eyes fall to the ground, anger bubbling only inches from the surface. This isn’t fair. This is bullshit. Clenching his teeth, Michael’s eyes rake across the room again before he meets gazes with Gavin.

Despite having been infuriated with him when they first met — mainly a play-up for videos — Michael always felt inexplicably calmed when in the company of the Brit. Even now, in all the panic and chaos, even with Gavin’s eyes filled with fear and trauma and horror – Michael feels his heart unclench slightly. Gavin gazes back at him and Michael wants to think that he has a similar effect on his best friend.

Michael reaches out to take Gavin’s hand.

A scream breaks out like a siren. It’s loud and sharp, like the crack of a whip in an otherwise silent room. Michael’s coworkers — Michael’s fucking friends flinch for their life, ducking close to the floor in a simultaneous instinct.

There are a few screams that follow, most noticeably Kara’s and Emily’s, but soon Michael’s attention is drawn elsewhere. Heart lurching and having no idea what’s just happened, he starts towards the front of the crowd before anyone else had time to react. Noise explodes around him, a sudden wave of mayhem and voices and screaming crashing into his eardrums. His head aches but he ignores it, searching desperately for Geoff.

“Geoff, Geoff!” Michael yells, craning his neck to look over the heads of his coworkers. Hands scrabble at his back, tugging on his shirt, trying to pull him the right way, but Michael refuses to stop. He fights the grain, the flood of bodies suddenly trying to get as close to the back wall as possible.

A flash of red hair has him hesitating. He grabs at her arm before Michael can think better of his action.

A fist swings at his face, catching him in the jaw and sending him reeling. It makes Michael’s entire face ache. He lets go, rubbing the sore spot.

“Michael!” Lindsay gasps, her voice a strange mix of fear, anxiety, and anger. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Lindsay, Lindsay,” Michael chants, pulling her close and tucking her head under his chin in a chaste hug. His best friend shudders under his hold, body shivering.

For a long two seconds, it’s just Michael comforting his best friend.

The moment is broken when Michael turns and pushes her towards the back wall, where it was safest. She stumbles but is caught by a passing intern. They’re both gone in seconds in the crowd.

Swallowing, Michael’s eyes desperately search the rapidly thinning crowd, hoping to find a familiar head of messy black hair. It’s too dark — he couldn’t see anything, except…

A figure was making a curiously straight path towards him. Michael immediately freezes in his tracks, but he’s gone too far to back up now. The man is on him in seconds.

Michael should really stop getting punched.

His head snaps back, neck muscles protesting at the stretch. He’s hit in the left eye. Stars bursting from his eyelids, Michael hunches in shock, trying in vain to banish the dizziness from his head. The hand in his shirt is unrelenting.

“Hey!” an angry voice bellows. It echoes in the Warehouse, snapping back and forth between the walls like a slingshot. Though it rings with familiarity, it’s still unrecognizable to Michael.

“Back the fuck off!” the man above Michael roars, a click of metal causing the Warehouse to abruptly descend into an eerie silence. Michael doesn’t — can’t look up, holding his spinning head in his hands.

“Everyone on their knees,” the man orders calmly.

The dead silence isn’t a good indicator that his command is followed, but when Michael looks up at the crowd through his fingers, the entire company, all of his friends, his family by extension — fuck, his boyfriends — are on their knees with their hands raised.

It’s a sight Michael’s never going to forget.

A few clicks above his head are the only warning before something collides with the juncture between Michael’s shoulder and neck, a spike of pain radiating down from his spine to sit tingling at his tailbone. His lungs shudder with the force of holding back a scream.

There are a few stifled gasps from the group of sixty in front of them. For a moment, Michael thinks he might vomit.

Somehow, he’s yet to fall to his knees, making it rather easy for the man to shift his center of gravity too far forward. Michael stumbles and the man bodily tosses him away like a piece of trash.

His shoulder lands on the carpeted portion rather than the blunt concrete that the other half was sat upon. He rolls onto his back, luckily with no stars in his vision, though it’s still a battle to think clearly.

It’s quiet. Motionless. His chest heaves with the force of his labored breathing, the sound audible in the room, and Michael distantly wonders if Geoff can hear the slight wheeze that punctures each inhale. Geoff’s the closest, after all. Michael can see him standing only feet away.

A sudden flashback to this morning invades Michael’s thoughts, the memory of waking up looking into Geoff’s unworldly gray eyes a different reality overlapping over this one. There’s no way that was only a few hours ago. There’s no way they couldn’t have seen this disaster laying so obviously in their path.

As he lies on the floor of the Warehouse, Michael wonders if any of them were going to die.

He doesn’t hear the footsteps nearing him, but he can’t miss the insistent nudge of a large gun butting against his side. Like the sorry sack of shit he’s becoming, Michael obliges and gets to his feet. The gun neatly settles into the space between the two vertebrae at the base of his spine. It’s cold, even through his shirt. Michael’s feet move forward automatically, hands shakily rising to motion his obedience as he’s led to the doors of the Warehouse.

Where the hell am I going?

“Hey!” Geoff yells again, but it isn’t angry. Michael can hear the fucking unadulterated, visceral fear bubbling just millimeters under the words, even as Geoff steps forward. Glancing over his shoulder, Michael feels the gun’s pressure disappear from his spine.

It turns to Geoff.

Pop!

A gunshot is nothing like how it sounds through a headset of a video game. The sound is loud and sudden, sharp at the end and ear-shatteringly loud at the start. Michael has, of course, heard a gun go off before, but in the dead silence of the warehouse, it’s foreign and brutal. Like a strike of lightning. The muzzle flash burns into Michael’s eyes, and he has to repeatedly blink at the scene in front of him to understand what is happening.

He doesn’t understand why Geoff is bent double, clutching at his stomach. He doesn’t understand why people are screaming, why someone in the crowd is trying to fight their way to the front, only to be held back by two coworkers. Nothing made sense.

Nothing is making sense.

“Geoff?” Michael mumbles in confusion, watching as Geoff fell to his knees, hands tightly pressing against his gut as he did so.

Four figures skid to a halt next to Geoff.

The man shoves the gun against Michael’s back again, causing him to trip forward. Michael walks, but he repeatedly glances over his shoulder.

Geoff doesn’t get up and follow this time.

Michael is taken to the Achievement Hunter office. The familiarity of the room, the warmth the walls possessed, the lovely sight of Gavin’s messy desk, the fucked up computer chairs — none of it is enough to level his head. Nearly faint with dizziness, Michael turns to stare at his captor, confused and angry and God — he is going to throw up. He is going to puke all over this fucking prick for ruining his day.

What stumbles out of his mouth wasn’t vomit, however, which surprises him. “Geoff?” he blurts.

His question is met with a backhand to the face. His cheek throbs, and the eyesight in the his left eye goes fuzzy, but Michael stays upright. He grabs his own desk chair to steady himself.

“Don’t talk,” the man orders, and to Michael’s confusion, he begins to unlatch the Velcro strips on his vest. Somehow he manages to keep Michael in the sights of his gun as he shrugs the piece of clothing off. Under it, he’s wearing a plain black tee shirt with a v-neck.

Michael’s stomach twists with abrupt unease, the blood draining from his face as if someone had poked a hole in his chin.

“What are you doing?” he asks through numb lips. Realization leaks like molasses into his mind, his suspicion confirmed when the man placed his gun on Gavin’s desk after giving Michael a contemplative stare.

The man steps forward and shoves Michael in the chest. Michael falls but is grabbed by the upper arm. Pushing Michael to his knees, the man laughs scornfully. “You like kissing boys, faggot?”

Michael’s blood runs cold, a sudden chill descending on his neck. His breath quickens, and he’s unable to reply, instead staring dumbly up at the man.

A small, rather ineffectual smack is delivered to the side of his head. As light as it is, it still makes Michael’s vision swim. His hands grip the man’s pants in a weak attempt to balance himself, despite being knelt on the floor.

“Yeah, that’s it, slut,” the man praises. “I knew you’d like this.”

Michael grits his teeth and fights the nausea rising in his stomach. A quick fantasy passes through his mind of punching this asshat right in the dick and taking his gun.

But it’s only a fleeting idea. His muscles are frozen with fear. Michael isn’t an action hero. He’s concussed. He’s a stupid fucking kid from New Jersey who doesn’t know the first thing about actual combat, and all he wants is to live through this. He isn’t going to hit this guy in the nuts and suddenly save the day.

He’d just get his goddamn head blown off.

“Open that pretty little mouth, just like you open those legs, huh?” the man coos to him, reaching a hand down to weave strong fingers into Michael’s hair. They tighten so painfully that it makes Michael’s eyes water. “You like suckin’ dick, faggot, so you open your fucking mouth and you suck my cock. Show me how much you like my cock.”

The words wash over him like rough tides riddled with thorns, poking holes in his strong will and causing his confidence to deflate. With only one hand, the man easily unzips his pants and palms himself through a pair of black boxers, somehow managing to grab the gun while doing so. Michael’s stomach churns when he sees that the man is half-hard, and this time he does throw up, pitching to the side and retching.

I’m going to die.

The man just smirks and pushes his pants the rest of the way down.

---

Gavin’s hands press hard against Geoff’s abdomen, grimacing at the squelching sensation. The bleeding has slowed after four jackets were pressed to the wound. Jordan shivers nearby due to his donation to the Stop Geoff From Dying on the Warehouse Floor cause.

Ryan nudges at his shoulder to switch places. Gavin moves quickly, happy to relieve the tension building in his arms. Ryan presses down with a lot more force, anyway. Sitting back and tucking his knees under him, Gavin fiddles with his shaky hands, trying to stop the tremors from traveling up his arms.

It’s too quiet. When Michael had been escorted away, a small riot had broken out within the company, but the moment Geoff went down, everything had faded away. The noise, the screams, even the ringing of the gunshot are gone. The only sound is Geoff’s indiscernible mumbling.

Scooting up to sit by Geoff’s head, Gavin cards a shaky hand through Geoff’s moppy hair. He’d showered this morning, leaving the dark strands clean and smelling sweetly of strawberries — using Michael’s shampoo again. Gavin never liked having his hair smell like fruit.

There are only two men guarding the door now. Gavin doesn’t want to think about that. No, he definitely wants to focus on keeping Geoff alive and well. And that involves petting Geoff’s fruity-smelling hair, maybe patting his cheek a little to let him know he wasn’t alone, wipe away the stray tears that manage to slip from Geoff’s tightly closed eyes. Gavin doesn’t think they were emotional tears because while Geoff may be a complete wuss when it came to tear-jerker movies, Geoff is a strong man. They were probably pain tears.

Getting shot in the stomach seems pretty painful.

Taking a deep breath, Gavin leans down, thumb moving in soft circles on Geoff’s forehead. “Hi, Geoff,” he whispers.

Gray eyes flutter open to look at him. “S-Stomach… hurts,” he grounds out. “Wh-wh—?”

Gavin shushes him quickly. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t try and move.” He swallows. “You’ve been… shot.”

“Don’t s-sound so… freaking happy.”

Gavin chuckles humorlessly. “Don’t sound so strained,” he counters.

Geoff struggled to get the words out. “Excuse me for — getting—”

“Stop talking. You’re gonna be fine,” Gavin tells him firmly, adjusting so he could look into Geoff’s eyes. “It’s — it’s not that bad.”

“You’re so… confident,” Geoff pants out, face paling with the effort of speaking.

“Shut up, Geoff,” Gavin says fondly. “What is it they say in movies? Conserve your energy or strength or something.”

Geoff’s brow scrunches as he presumably tries to remember how the saying went.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Gavin interrupts. “How do you feel?”

“How do you think I feel?”

“Being the center of attention, you seem to be doing pretty well,” Gavin jokes, sniffing. “Everyone’s worried.”

“Tell them not to worry,” Geoff says stupidly. “Has anyone been able to call the cops?”

“Uh,” Gavin hesitates, a cold pit growing in his stomach. “I’m not… I don’t know. They haven’t said anything. To us or to each other, really. We have no idea why they’re here or what’s happening.”

“Well, we can guess,” Ryan says lowly, keep careful eyes on Geoff’s face.

“Guess what?” Gavin says.

“They don’t even know what we do here,” Ryan says. “They don’t know what Rooster Teeth is. They’re robbers, we’re just unlucky enough to be the building they’re taking hostage.”

“But there are no cops—”

“There will be. They just want to get away cleanly.”

“You don’t sound angry,” Gavin observes.

Ryan’s Adam’s apple bobs in a thick swallow. “I’m trying not to dwell,” he admits, adjusting his hands slightly. Geoff’s face scrunches up in pain. “Sorry, Geoff,” Ryan whispers.

Ray and Jack are quiet, watching with big, worried eyes. Ray clutches at Geoff’s hands and Jack clutches at Ray’s.

All five still sit in the middle of the warehouse floor, separated by feet from the squirming crowd of coworkers and the two guarding the door. The latter stare at them emptily. Gavin doesn’t understand how they could be so damn cold. They hadn’t blinked when that man shot Geoff, not even attempting to stop their out-of-control cohort.

And now they were down one person and missing another.

Gavin can’t deal with that right now. Can’t deal with Michael. It’s easier to focus on Geoff, who’s here in front of him.

It isn’t as bad as they’d originally thought. Ryan assures them that it isn’t life-threatening, at the very least, because the bullet hadn’t gone in that far. There was a lot of blood, but it wasn’t buckets like it had been when that one girl got shot in LOST. I’s terrifying, and Gavin feels like his heart was trying to claw its way up his esophagus, but Ryan’s reassurances keep true panic from setting in.

But we do need to get to a hospital, Ryan had said. Infection could start to set in — the warehouse isn’t exactly sterile.

“Just hold on, Geoff,” Gavin says in a watery voice. “We’re all here with you, just lay still—”

The loud bang from the door flying open interrupts him. The two men guarding the door wordlessly move to the side.

Gavin’s heart seizes at the sight. Frozen, he watches the man tug a rather apathetic Michael back into the warehouse. Many pairs of eyes, including Gavin’s, rake the redhead’s body in search of another bullet hole. He seems unharmed. Except, of course, for the bruise around his eye and the blood on his nose and mouth. His eyes carry a rather haughty stare.

Scrambling to his feet, Gavin rushes forward when Michael is physically thrown to the ground. He kneels next to him and places his hands on either side of his face, wincing at the blood. “Michael. Boi. Are you okay?”

Stupid question, but Michael nods regardless. He doesn’t say anything except for a very soft, “Geoff?”

“He’s… okay,” Gavin says unsurely. Glancing over Michael’s shoulder, Gavin pales slightly at the sight of the three men chatting together, one hoisting the gun on his shoulder like some sort of toy. “Let’s move back, Michael.”

Michael nods again and follows, hand tightly gripping the back of Gavin’s shirt. Gavin took up his spot by Geoff’s head once more, while Michael simply plunks down next to him. Ray is staring.

“Michael?” Ray ventures.

Michael’s eyes are slow to find Ray. He looks at him questioningly.

“What happened? What did he want with you?”

Michael doesn’t reply. He shakes his head.

“Not yet, Ray,” Jack says quietly, placing a hand on the brunette’s shoulder.

Allowing his eyes to fall back to Geoff, Michael shifts closer. He seems… off. Vacant. There’s more blood around his mouth than there had been when he’d first been shoved in here with the rest of them.

Ryan grunts, pulling Gavin’s attention back to him. Geoff is squirming, trying to meet eyes with Michael, causing Ryan to fumble his hold on Geoff’s wound. “Geoff, stop fucking moving.”

“Michael,” Geoff says, clearly relieved. “I thought — he was taking you—”

“Why did you do that?” Michael spits, fingers curling into fists on his knees. He keeps his head bowed. “You ran forward and got—got—”

“He’s going to be fine,” Ryan says, pushing firmly on Geoff’s stomach. His voice is tight. “We can talk about stupid decisions later.”

“Can we move back some?” Jack asks quietly, contributing to the conversation for the first time. He glances nervously at their captors. “I don’t like how close they are.”

Ryan bites his lip. “I don’t think we ought to move him.”

“I thought you said he was going to be fine,” Gavin says, voice pitching louder.

“Shh,” Ryan hisses, obviously paranoid about being overheard. “I said he’s going to be fine, not that he can start doing cartwheels.”

“If we can’t drag him on the floor a couple of feet, then he’s in more danger than you’ve let on,” Gavin snaps.

Geoff coughs wetly. “Stop arguing,” he croaks.

“Stop talking,” Gavin retorts.

“We’re not moving,” Ryan says with finality. “I — I think the bleeding stopped. I don’t want to risk reopening the wound and causing more bleeding.”

Gavin can understand that. He smiles weakly at the news and looks down to Geoff. “Hear that? You stopped bleeding.”

Geoff laughs breathily. “I was shot in the stomach, not the ear.”

“Shush,” Ryan admonishes, lifting one of the jackets to peak at Geoff’s stomach.

They spend the next twenty minutes crouching and sweating in the intense heat that had set in. The two men with guns stay with them, lurking by the door and scaring the absolute shite out of every hostage in the room.

---

Geoff wakes up with one helluva jolt.

He’s staring at a ceiling. That’s new, he thinks. Last time his eyes had been opened, all he could see was the dark warehouse.

It’s a… nice change of scenery. Geoff frowns and lifts his head, realizing he was having trouble remembering what had happened. There had been… robbers. Right. And, uh, guns. A lot of guns. Specifically, a gun aimed at him.

Geoff glances down, running his hands over the woolen blanket covering his stomach. Everything is completely numb. He can see his feet at the end of the bed, but they weren’t moving when he told them to.

“Nurse,” Geoff croaks, voice cracking. He clears his throat. “Nurse!”

The room is quiet, the low beep of the heart monitor the only sound exception. It’s four minutes until a nurse finally comes into the room, trailing in with a stacked tray of food. She has a bright smile on her face when she sees that Geoff is awake and blinking at her.

“Good morning, Mr. Ramsey. I’m Nurse Reed,” she says in a friendly tone. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, a few minutes ago,” Geoff says, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “I have a few questions—”

“Only if you answer a few of mine,” she replies, wrestling out a small table on wheels that stretched over his lap. She puts the food tray on top of it and pulls off the blue lid, revealing a small lump of meat that resembles meatloaf. “You were brought here by paramedics six days ago. Is this the first time you remember waking up?”

Geoff swallows heavily. “Y-Yeah. Because I was shot, right?”

He’s grateful her voice was professional. “Yes, in the abdomen. Luckily, it didn’t perforate any organs, only nicking your large intestine.”

“What about everyone else?” Geoff asks. “I was with about sixty other people.”

“A few minor injuries,” she answers. “A lot of concussions, but most were discharged the first day we got the call. Our staff has been harassed by Mr. Burns the past few days, so I’d say they’re in good hands.”

“Who else is in the hospital?”

“Well, the waiting room is overbooked right now—”

“Sorry, I meant who is admitted,” Geoff quickly adds.

“I don’t know, you’d have to check with the other staff members,” she says in an apologetic voice. “I’m the charge nurse for this floor, but you’ve sustained a life-threatening injury. If anyone else is admitted to this hospital, they wouldn’t be on the fifth floor.”

Geoff sighs and nods, throat uncomfortably tight. “Uh, my friends,” he starts awkwardly. “They’re probably in the waiting room.”

She studies him, smothering a smile. “Yes, the troublemaking five, I’m guessing? Not including Burns, who has been pestering me nonstop.”

Geoff distantly worries about whether or not anyone had informed Griffon of the incident. Shaking his head, he says, “Yes, the troublemaking five are definitely mine. Can I see them?”

“First we’re going to administer your medicine. I have a few questions, if you’re feeling up to it?”

“Yeah, of course,” Geoff says, pushing himself up slightly. He winces at a tug in his gut but grins sheepishly at the disapproving glare the nurse is giving him. “Won’t be doing that again,” he assures her.

“Good, because if you do, I’ll have to restrain you,” she jokes, grabbing a clipboard from the bedside table. “Alright, what would you say that your pain level is right now?”

Geoff thought about it. “Two,” he says honestly. “It was a zero when I woke up.”

“That’s good,” she nods. “We’re going to start dialing down the pain medication so we can wean you off.”

“You said I’ve been here six days?” Geoff asks. She nods. “What does that mean? When do I get to leave?”

She laughs quietly. “Sorry, dear. It’s going to be a while before you can be discharged.”

Geoff frowns, groaning as he shifts in the bed. It’s strangely difficult to move anything below his armpits, the muscles of his chest stiff and sore, but he manages to arrange his body in a sitting position.

He gives the nurse an alarmed stare when she snaps on a pair of gloves. “I’m going to check your staples,” she explains, pulling back the sheets. Geoff groans aloud at the ridiculous gown they have him wearing. “Tell me if there’s any pain when I pull the adhesive.”

There wasn’t, so Geoff is quiet while she examines the wound. He didn’t look down at it, but there’s a taunting glimmer of metal in the corner of his eye.

“Looks good,” she praises. “No redness, swelling, or heat — no sign of infection.” She straightens and removes the gloves. “These are your antibiotic pills,” she says, handing him a small plastic cup. “You’ll take them three times a day.”

Geoff tosses them back, chasing them down with ice water. “When am I going to be able to walk on my own?” he asks regretfully.

“Sooner than you think,” she says, patting his thigh. “We have patients with hip replacements walking after only two days. I’m positive your recovery will be a fast one.”

Geoff’s glad to hear that, almost dizzyingly so. He relaxes into the pillow and says, “Thank you. I don’t suppose you know what happened? Before I got here?”

“All I was told was that it was a hostage situation at a local building,” she says. “Four shooters, but only one shooting victim.” She points playfully at him.

“Did the police come, or…?” Geoff asks, desperate to fill in some holes.

“II’m afraid I don’t know,” she says apologetically. “We weren’t told.”

Geoff bites his lip. “In that case, can I see my friends? The five idiots?”

She laughs. “I’ll go tell them that you’re awake.”

Unsurprisingly, Geoff doesn’t have to wait long. He hears them before they got there, the five practically stampeding down the hall and bursting through the door. Jack is the first one to lock eyes with him.

Jack smiles gently, throwing an arm out to slow Gavin’s sprint.

“Hi,” Geoff whispers, chest shuddering. The relief nearly overwhelms him, flooding his stomach with warmth and causing his toes to tingle. Funny that he can feel that despite the drugs.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks as they all enter. Geoff’s eyes can’t take them in fast enough.

“Not bad,” Geoff says, grinning. “Though, they have me on enough drugs to not feel anything.”

“That’s sort of the point,” Ray says, smiling unsurely as if afraid he was talking too loud.

Geoff hums and shut his eyes. Soaking in the presence of his lovers, Geoff can’t help but feel significantly calmer. “What happened?”

“You — you don’t remember?” Jack says, glancing at Ryan.

“No, no,” Geoff interjects quickly. “I remember most of it. But, on the floor, I fell asleep and don’t remember how we got out of there.”

“Oh,” Jack breathed, clearly relieved. “Well, they had us sit there for a little while. After you were — after what happened, they didn’t say anything else to us. Just waited.”

“For what?”

“No idea,” Ryan says, shrugging. “I’m guessing for some brilliant idea to strike, but they gave up pretty quickly when the police finally showed up.”

“Who called them?”

“Someone a few blocks over heard the gunshot,” Ryan answers. “The moment we heard sirens, they just hightailed it and ran.”

“Glad to hear there wasn’t an epic shootout while I was gone,” Geoff mutters, rolling his eyes.

“You weren’t gone,” Gavin says sharply. He looks uncomfortable when everyone’s attention turns to him, and his concerned expression shifts to an annoyed one. “You scared us, you big idiot.”

Geoff is suddenly struck with the memory of why he’d been shot in the first place and looks at Michael, fear striking his heart. “Are you alright?” Geoff asks, eyes examining the crude bruises covering the redhead’s pale skin. He feels a surge of anger but tries to reign it in. “They sure hit pretty damn hard.”

Michael smiles weakly at his concern, and Geoff makes a face at the grotesque picture. Michael’s lips are cracked and bruised, obviously battered from the punches he’d endured. Geoff is angered to see that they were still just as prominent even six days after the fact. The smile the redhead wears is shaky and rather horrific. “I’m good.”

“Did they treat you?” Geoff pushes, gesturing to the hospital.

Gavin beats Michael to the punch. “Yeah, he was hospitalized for a few hours after we got here.”

“Injuries?” Geoff requests.

“The guy kicked my ass,” Michael confesses, scratching the back of his head. God, there are bruises up and down his arms, too. Geoff tenses. “You… you didn’t have to—”

“I did exactly what I wanted to,” Geoff says firmly.

“You wanted to get shot?”

Geoff rephrases himself. “I wanted you safe. I was trying to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, well, that was fucking stupid, wasn’t it?” Michael bites out. “I can’t fucking believe you did that. You just ran forward like that, waving your arms around.”

Jack clears his throat, resting a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I think we can talk about that at a different time.”

Michael’s eyes cut to the side and he falls silent. Geoff stares at him, confused and slightly worried. Michael looks like absolute hell, anger and what looks like paranoia broiling in his dark eyes. He’s dressed in normal clothes, but Geoff can see the hospital band around his wrist.

“I meant what I did, Michael,” Geoff says. “And I’d do it again.”

Michael looks away, and Geoff can see his jaw clenching.

“We can move onto a less morbid conversation now,” Ray mutters.

Geoff sighs. “Anyone want my Jell-o?” he asks.

Jack jumps at the offer while the others settle around the bed, pulling up chairs and getting comfy. Ryan ruthlessly quizzes Geoff on how he feels, what his pain level is, and even whether or not the medication is working. Geoff begins to think perhaps Ryan would be better suited as a nurse or doctor than a Rooster Teeth employee.

A different nurse comes in hours later with more medicine. She eyeballs the group sitting at his bedside, but says nothing in regards to them as she checks his temperature and blood pressure. She leaves quickly, but her presence reminds them that they’re seated in a hospital.

“Did the doctor say when you’ll be able to come home?” Jack asks after a long, sober pause in conversation.

Geoff hums into the straw of the ice water he’d been sucking on. “I haven’t talked to the doctor, but the nurse said it was going to be a while.”

Gavin snorts. “Good, because no offense to anyone sitting here, that would be some seriously crap room service.”

“Excuse me, even when I do get discharged, you’re expected to wait on me hand and foot.”

“If we just put you in the living room, next to the kitchen, you should be fine,” Gavin says dismissively.

Geoff glares at him. “You’re going to be the one holding my bedpan.”

“No, I’m n—”

“Mr. Ramsey?” a nurse says gently from the doorway. “Your guests can stay as long as they want, but the doors lock after eight PM. You’ll have to go through the ER to get into the main parking lot.”

“Okay. Thank you,” Geoff calls after her. He looks at Jack, who’s presumably driving the rest of the boys home. “When are you leaving?”

“How late do you want us to stay?” Jack asks instead.

Geoff rolls his eyes. “Right. I want you to stay here, all night, and sleep in these uncomfortable chairs and hurt your backs, so you can complain about the back pain all while I’m immobile in bed.”

“That we can do,” Ray grins, stretching out and kicking his feet up in Michael’s lap. The redhead sends him a disgusted look.

“Ray, get your fucking nasty, flea-bitten shoes out of my face,” he says. “We’re in a fucking hospital; I could catch the plague from what’s on the bottom of those.”

“A hospital is sterile and clean,” Ray scoffs. “Probably cleaner than our house.”

“Sick people go to hospitals,” Ryan points out. “Which means there’s going to be more germs here than the average public place.”

“But they also clean more than the average public place,” Gavin argues. “They sterilize everything.”

Ryan takes a long moment to chew over Gavin’s answer. He doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t think that’s true,” he says finally.

Geoff breaks up the debate before it can really get started. “Anyone want to get me more pudding?”

“I will,” Michael volunteers immediately, standing up before the words were fully out of Geoff’s mouth. “What flavor? Another chocolate one?”

“Please” Geoff says sincerely, stomach growling. “They don’t feed grown men enough.”

“Yeah, or you just eat too much,” Michael mutters as he left the room.

“Is he okay?” Geoff asks the moment the door closes.

Jack and Ryan trade glances. “We don’t know,” Jack admits. “He won’t talk to us.”

Oh, great.

“What?” Geoff demands. “What the hell happened? Did I miss something when I was—?”

“No, he sat by us the whole time,” Gavin whispers, as if Michael might hear them from down two stories. “He — the guy who shot you, I mean — took him out of the warehouse for ten minutes. Michael won’t tell us what happened.”

“He’ll tell me,” Geoff says confidently, despite the rising sense of unease. Something flutters uncomfortably in the back of his mind.

Ray sends him a doubtful glance that clearly says, no, he won’t.

“He will,” Geoff insists. “I fucking got shot for his ass, he better tell me.”

Gavin’s face darkens and he bites out a sarcastic response of, “Don’t be so persuasive, Geoff, I doubt he’ll be able to restrain himself from telling the truth if you sweet talk him like that.”

“You know me, I’m good with my mouth,” Geoff taunts before turning the topic serious once more. “Well, something’s wrong with him,” he says worryingly, pushing the food tray away from him. His appetite has vanished. “He’s all twitchy and flustered.”

“He’s always—”

“No, he’s not,” Geoff says with an exhausted sigh. “He’s not always about an inch from biting our heads off, not like this. Not even with Gavin.”

“And I haven’t even done anything,” Gavin agrees.

“Maybe he’s just freaked out like we are,” Jack suggests quietly, leaning back in his chair and linking his fingers together. “I’ll be honest: I haven’t been able to get a good night’s rest since.”

Geoff resists the urge to argue with the bearded man. Jack probably just didn’t want to believe it. Michael is strong, but there was something wrong. He needs help, needs support, but if he’s already refusing to talk about it, Geoff knows that bigger problems are on the horizon.

“Haven’t you been sleeping at the hospital?” Gavin asks tiredly, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up,” Jack says. “You spent the night here just yesterday.”

Gavin sneers at him.

“I think we all just need a good night’s rest,” Geoff says bracingly. “Go home before you have to carry Gavin through the E.R.”

“They only had vanilla,” Michael says, appearing at the doorway and tossing Geoff his snack pack. “I asked and I think they somehow managed to tell me to ‘fuck off’ but politely. And in medical terms.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Geoff says gratefully, opening his second dessert up and digging in.

Michael hums in acknowledgement and sits back down, plopping into his chair with enough force to make the wood creak. Geoff doesn’t like the way his hands shake as he rests them on the arm rests.

“Like I was saying, go get some sleep, guys,” Geoff says.

“We just got here,” Michael says, sounding annoyed. “Why are you kicking us out?”

“You’ve been here for hours,” Geoff points out with a raised eyebrow. Michael seems confused before he looks at the clock. His eyes widen. Geoff sighs. “Go home. Get some sleep. And then tomorrow, bring me back real food.”

---

Michael coughs up the missing piece to his chipped tooth nearly twelve days after the hostage situation at Rooster Teeth.

Standing in the bathroom cupping the small piece of white enamel in one hand and his toothbrush in the other is probably the second most traumatic thing to happen to him in his life. His throat burns from where it’d scraped along the walls on its way back up, and there are even a few drops of blood in the sink.

“What the actual fuck,” he announces, dropping the toothbrush back onto the counter. His hands are shaking too much to hold it right, anyway.

His reflection stares back at him, unimpressed. It had every right to. Not only did he look half-dead, his temper’s fuse has dwindled down to a few centimeters. Just a few minutes ago, he’d snapped at Gavin for moving his shoes to the other side of the bed. Gavin had looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, and… yeah, he might be right.

“I should tell them,” Michael says over the sound of the shower running. It waits for him to get in, but Michael knows once he was under the water, he wouldn’t be able to stop turning it up until it scalds him. He’d done it three times this week.

“I’m just tired,” Michael tells himself, and it’s true. He’s exhausted.

You have PTSD, he thinks.

Michael scoffs. “I’m not a veteran coming back from the war,” he tells himself. “I don’t deserve to have leeway like that. What this is called — is being a pussy.”

Michael looks at the shower and back at his reflection. The glass is beginning to fog up, obscuring his image. Without another word, he abandons the frustrated picture of himself and ducks under the spray, but it’s too cold, like ice on his skin. He nearly shouted in shock before hastily turning the handle closer towards the ‘H’.

He washes his hair as fast as possible and scrubs his body until the skin was bright red. His wrists bleed in a few places. The water went cold quicker than he thinks possible, and soon the dial was all the way up to HOT, but he can’t feel it.

Despite getting done in record time, he remains in the shower well over half an hour. While toweling himself off, he finds he can’t remember what exactly he’d spent so long doing. The pain in his wrists distracts him.

His reflection stares at him, looking disappointed as it watches him comb out the tangles in his hair.

Ryan looks up from his computer when Michael walks into the living room, glasses sitting on the very tip of his noise. “Good morning,” he says.

“Morning,” Michael greets. The kitchen is empty. “Where is everyone?”

“Hospital,” Ryan answers nonchalantly. Michael sighs.

“Are they going to stay long?”

“Probably,” Ryan says. “I was planning on joining them later. I was waiting for you to wake up.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Michael murmurs. He isn’t sure if Ryan even heard him. Louder, he says, “When did they say Geoff could come home? Tomorrow?”

“Day after tomorrow,” Ryan replies. He shuts his laptop and stands up. “Want some coffee? There’s still some left in the pot.”

The thought of coffee makes his stomach turn over. He’s jittery enough, thanks, and a heart attack isn’t exactly on his to-do schedule. “I’m good.”

Ryan smiles at him from the doorway. Great. There’s a concerned glint in the steely blue eyes. “Did you sleep?”

Michael doesn’t miss the absence of the word ‘good’. “Yeah, of course. Next to you, if I recall correctly.”

“You tossed and turned next to me,” Ryan corrects gently. “Didn’t feel much like sleeping.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining to Gavin, who kicks like a fucking mule in his sleep,” Michael says, crossing his arms.

Ryan’s gaze softens as he steps away from the door and closer to Michael. “At least he’s sleeping,” he says quietly.

“If you have something to say, Rye-bread, I’m standing right here.”

Ryan frowns. “I’m not trying to confront you—”

“You leering over me and breathing down my neck sure feels like a confrontation,” Michael snaps.

Ryan looks alarmed. “Michael, I’m just standing here.”

Michael bites his tongue. Right. Boyfriends stand close to each other sometimes. Have conversations. That’s… utterly reasonable.

“I just want to make sure you’re alri—” Ryan continues.

“I’m fine,” Michael says, exasperated. He leans back slightly. “I’ve been asked that like seven times already. My answer isn’t changing.”

“Are you sure it’s the truthful answer?”

“You’re saying I’m lying?”

Ryan laughs in disbelief and takes a step back. “Michael, do you hear yourself? When did you get so damn defensive?”

Michael takes a deep breath and tries to calm his rising anxiety. His skin itches. He needs another shower. “I’m not defensive, I’m annoyed! I’ve been getting grilled constantly and no one seems to believe me when I say that I’m okay.”

Ryan opens his mouth but stops himself from saying whatever was obviously on the tip of his tongue. He snaps it shut before running a hand through his sandy hair. “Your track record isn’t exactly squeaky clean, Michael. You’re very sneaky when you’re quiet and the past week and a half, you’ve barely said a word.”

“So you think I’m hiding something?” Michael is surprised how scared he is at the thought of Ryan being so close to solving what Michael actually is hiding.

Ryan stares at him before answering plainly. “Yes.”

Michael gapes at him before closing his mouth with an audible crack. “I don’t want to talk about it, is that so hard to understand?”

Ryan’s hard expression falters slightly. “I can understand that,” he says softly. “Of course I can. I don’t want to think about it either.” Ryan seems to deflate entirely, broad shoulders slumping a few inches as he leans against the cabinets. “It scares me, too, Michael. I have dreams every night about opening endless doors to see one of you being executed.”

Michael’s skin rises in goosebumps. That is a far stretch from his own fears, but when Ryan puts his into words, Ryan’s was much more selfless and noble. Michael just relives his own fucking memory over and over again.

“I’m sorry,” Michael whispers, not knowing what else to say.

“I wasn’t asking for sympathy, idiot,” Ryan chides lovingly. “We were all there. We can come back from it.”

‘We were all there.’ Michael’s heart skips a beat. You weren’t in that room with me. While he — While I was…

“Right,” Michael says breathlessly, nodding too fast to be normal. “Come back from it.”

Ryan is probably looking at him in concern, but Michael turns away before he can catch sight of his expression. He doesn’t miss Ryan’s sigh.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?” Ryan asks, changing the subject.

“No,” Michael says truthfully. He cringes. “I mean — not right now. We’ve just — we’ve been there every day for most of the day. He comes home soon, anyway. I’m sure he wouldn’t miss me for just one day.”

“That’s not true,” Ryan immediately rebukes.

“Yeah, well,” Michael says unsurely. “You should go ahead and leave, Ryan. Tell Geoff I said hi and to get his ass back home. I’m tired of the frequent car trips.”

Ryan still looks uncomfortable, but he nods. “Alright. Call me if you change your mind and want me to pick you up.”

As if. “Will do.”

Ryan leaves only minutes later, as if he’d been waiting for Michael to give him the go-ahead. He calls out a hasty I love you! before the door closes behind him.

Plopping down on the couch, Michael stretches out and allows his sore muscles to loosen up.

His mouth hurts. Throat, specifically. The back of it, the walls, fuck even his stomach hurt. His tongue feels as if he’d stretched it out and skipped rope with it. Though it isn’t quite what he focuses on when he looks in the mirror, he knows by his boyfriends’ reactions that ugly bruising still mars his skin. His lips are still bruised and bloody, splitting open every few hours because Michael has trouble following doctor’s orders to stop talking already.

They’d heal in their own time. He wishes a similar scar tissue would form over the memories he’s harboring unwillingly. They, however, are still as raw and painful as they’d been when he’d been taken to the hospital.

He remembers it vividly. He wasn’t tended to first, not like Geoff was. And he hadn’t wanted to be. He refused medical aid at first, pushing away the many nurses who approached him with a napkin for his bleeding nose. Unhappy, the nurses had forced him out of the waiting room and onto a cot at the ER, but he hadn’t been treated until Geoff was out of surgery. By then, Michael was throwing up because he’d been swallowing the blood dripping down the back of his throat.

A sprained wrist. Ten stitches on the inside of his lip and seven on his scalp, hidden in the hair. A few fingers that had been dislocated were set back into place and a concussion.

Brain damage would account for a lot of his recent behaviors: the time loss, the panicky feeling he constantly has. Michael is half-convinced that the scans lied, and that he cracked his skull open. There has to be something wrong with his brain to be suffering this level of anxiety.

The nightmares are the worst, by a mile. He can forget about the pain in his lips, he can ignore the poke of stitches in his mouth. But he can’t get away from the dreams. They come to him even while he was awake: vivid images flashing behind his eyelids at every blink. The moment Michael begins to drift off, the moment an actual inkling of peace began to trickle into the corners of Michael’s broken mind — a sudden hand weaved into his hair, something is slamming into the back of his throat, tears are running down his cheeks, and his knees are being rubbed raw against the carpet.

He was back there. Back in that room.

Rooster Teeth hasn’t kicked back into gear yet. Burnie, Gus, and Joel had caught the earliest flight back from Australia the moment they heard about the shooting, but the company is taking some much needed time off. Everyone was on leave. Michael isn’t sure when they’re due back, but he dreads it.

The day passes with Michael lying uselessly on the couch. He turns on the TV around four and mindlessly watches the pictures, but he doesn’t hear a word.

He goes to bed around eight, too tired from doing nothing to stay up any longer. While he didn’t want to dream, Michael can’t drive himself to true exhaustion. Crawling into bed, his eyes are half-closed by the time his head hits the pillow, but his brow furrows in confusion. The pillow is wet. It doesn’t take long to realize that it’s from his tears.

He falls asleep alone.

---

“Gavin does not get to guide the wheelchair.”

“But Geo–”

“Gavin does not get to guide the wheelchair.”

“I can’t crash it that bad—”

“Hey, Jack? You know who doesn’t get to guide the wheelchair?”

“Who’s that, Geoff?”

“Gavin. Weren’t you listening? I said it, like, two or thirteen times.”

Geoff lets loose a giggle at the frustrated noise Gavin produces when the Brit finally relents. Glancing over his shoulder, Geoff shoots Ray a grin, which is returned with a snicker.

It’s only two weeks after he was shot in the stomach, and he can already walk to the bathroom and bathe himself. He no longer needs the damn catheter, too, which was always a plus.

It’s his release day, which meant he could get the IV out of his arm. He can also wear his civilian clothes, but he will need someone to pull up his pants. That’s gonna be fun. Geoff doesn’t get embarrassed, but Gavin sure does.

“Jack gets to push the wheelchair,” Geoff decides as he’s helped over to the contraption itself.

“Why him?” Gavin demands.

“Because I made fun of him for your expense, so I’m making it even. Besides, Gavin, he’s three times your size,” Geoff answers. “If I happen to drift too close to a flight of stairs, then Jack will be able to pull me back up.”

“Good thing you won’t be doing any drifting,” Ryan says pointedly.

“We’ll be taking elevators,” Ray adds with a sharp nod.

Geoff rolls his eyes. “No shit. Alright, losers, wheel me away. And no funny business, Jack. You deliberately aim for speed bumps, and I’ll deliberately aim for your toes.”

“Don’t worry, Geoff,” Jack says sweetly as he begins to push. “We’ll only hit the potholes.”

They pack into the car with little difficultly. Geoff is smiling the entire ride, excited to be back at home.

Geoff is beside himself with happiness as he’s wheeled through the front door.

“Home fucking sweet home,” he shouts in bliss, arms spread joyously. The stretch only tugs at his wound a little. There isn’t even pain. “Michael!” Geoff calls.

Michael greets him in the kitchen, face pale but smiling nonetheless. He bends, hugging Geoff gently, careful not to jostle him.

“It’s been too quiet,” Michael drawls, pulling away.

“Hell yeah it has,” Geoff agrees.

“Where is—?”

“Giving us a moment,” Geoff says, smug, even when Michael’s face falls.

“A moment?”

“Alone,” Geoff nods.

Michael’s upper lip curls, but he’s still cautiously smiling. “Er, why?”

Geoff doesn’t immediately reply. He pushes himself out of the wheelchair, clearly surprising Michael, who’s hands shoot out to help. “Stop, stop,” Geoff rebuffs, waving him off. “I’m good.”

“The hospital gave you a free wheelchair?” Michael questions, eyebrow raised.

“I mean the company paid for it,” Geoff grins. “But I don’t need the wheelchair.”

“Yeah, well I don’t need you bleeding all over the kitchen floor either,” Michael mutters, but he keeps his hands to himself. His expression, already bordering on fragile, takes on a surly edge.

“Hi, buddy,” Geoff says, smiling serenely. He takes a moment to just look at him.

“Hi, Geoff,” Michael says, reluctant. The bags under his eyes look like a physical weight.

Geoff studies him, smile fading. “You still look like hell,” he points out.

“‘M working on it,” Michael mutters incredibly unconvincingly.

“Working on what, exactly?” Geoff says, looking away casually. Ryan’s mentioned that Michael’s been as high-strung as a new violin. A neutral approach to his hot-tempered boyfriend was probably the only way to crack his shell.

“Healing,” Michael shrugs.

Geoff sets his teeth. There’s a long pause.

Michael just stares back at him.

“You’re a horrible liar, dude,” Geoff says bluntly.

“I’m not lying when I say I don’t want to talk about what happened,” Michael says bracingly. After a thick swallow, he falters. “I mean — if you want to talk about it, about what happened to you, that’s — I’m here for that. For you.”

Geoff’s shaking his head before Michael’s even finished. “Michael, I was shot.” Michael flinches. “But I’m dealing with what happened.”

Michael’s mouth twists. “Implying I’m not?”

Geoff opens his mouth to reply, but a voice from the kitchen doorway beats him to it.

“You’re not,” Ray says, voice hard.

Michael’s russet eyes dart to him, narrowing. “I’m working on it. We all had a hard time.”

“You’re fucking hiding something, Michael,” says Ray.

“I’m a grown man!” Michael exclaims. “I’m not keeping secrets or whatever, I’m dealing with my goddamn trauma.”

“Let us help!” Ryan damn-near shouts.

“You can’t!” Michael says before he realizes he sounds like a complete brat. He gives himself a little shake. “I mean — you are helping. Of course you’re helping me. I’m just trying to deal with it, okay?”

“Repressing and denying what happened is not dealing with it,” Jack says carefully.

Michael’s eyes dart around the house, like he’s looking for a safe place to glare.  He backs away, and Geoff can tell he’s feeling increasingly cornered.

“Wait, wait,” Geoff says quickly. “Michael. Please. Just talk to us?”

“I’m talking,” Michael says stubbornly. The twitching of his chin is more telling than Michael knows.

“Not to us,” Gavin pushes. “You’re being an asshole.”

“I mean that’s who you’re dating,” Michael says, trying for a weak joke.

“We’re trying to fucking help, Michael,” Jack sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “If you aren’t going to open us to us, maybe we should take Burnie up on his offer of a therapist—”

“Absolutely not,” Michael growls.

“Well if you’re not dealing with it, and you’re not letting us help, and you won’t accept help from someone else, then…?” Ray trails off, staring at Michael.

Michael stares back at him, eyes brimming with mistrust. His jaw is clenched hard, the bruises on his face standing out more as his complexion grays.

Finally, something in him seems to concede.

“You don’t want to know.”

The words make Geoff’s skin ice over. It’s not only a confirmation that Michael has been hiding something, but the coldness in his tone makes Geoff think it’s worse than what he’s been suspecting.

The others seem to have the same feeling. They shift with discomfort, a tension thickening the atmosphere. It stretches for an immeasurable amount of time.

“He…”

Michael stops short. He doesn’t choke, mostly just bites down in the middle of his confession. His cheeks, colored with fading purples from the residual bruises, have gone from flushed with embarrassment to a sickly pallor. Geoff stands perfectly still, watching and waiting. Geoff forcibly smothers the ache in his heart, knowing that Michael needed to come to terms with sharing by himself.

“You’re all staring at me,” Michael suddenly snaps, withdrawing.

Dammit, Geoff thinks. He bites down on the verbal curse, though, and stays quiet. The other four men in the room seem content to follow his lead, letting Michael work through his thoughts.

“I’m trying to deal with a few different things,” Michael tries after a pause. He seems resigned with honesty, though he continues to skirt around whatever thing he’s obviously trying to bring himself to say. “Dealing with you, Geoff, getting — getting shot. For me. I’m not a martyr, so I wouldn’t say it was my fault, but it was for me. That’s — a lot to take in.”

Maintaining eye contact, Geoff nods slowly. He tries to convey his sympathy through the stare-down Michael’s forcing him into, to communicate his encouragement without completely scaring him off.

“Plus, I mean — c’mon,” Michael says, laughing unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck and then reaching around to cup at his throat. He’s wrought with nervous energy. “I think I deserve some credit. I’ve never been in a fight fight before, and that was — not really a fight, more like a beating.”

Geoff nods in sympathy, waiting for Michael to finish.

Michael licks his lips. His eyes dart from Geoff’s open expression, to the four men behind him. Luckily, all seem to sense that Michael shouldn’t be approached. Michael’s personal space was coveted even in normal circumstances.

“He — uh—” Michael starts and swallows. He takes a moment to think, to put words to his thoughts. He raises his eyes to meet Geoff’s waiting gaze. Visibly steels himself, as if expecting a backlash.

Backlash ended up being not being a ridiculous expectation, not with the next words that Michael grates out.

“He made me suck him off.”

---

Michael doesn’t cry much. When he is brought to tears, it’s usually a result of something he’s ingested. The barbecue sauce bet comes to mind; all that spice had easily made him tear up. The pixie sticks, too, had brought his eyes to a burn. Emotional tears are fairly rare for him.

Despite this, he’s damn close to them now. He can pin down the source: humiliation. It burns like a molten pit in his chest, bubbling up his throat like hot vomit. In fact — he’s pretty close to throwing up. His stomach rolls, churns, and for scary moment he gags.

It’s a sacred reprieve when no one approaches him. Michael can’t really chalk it up to them knowing what he needs — he needs not to be touched right now, not be to coddled or petted or hugged — but he wants to pretend. They’re most likely in intense shock, frozen in place.

“I’m — I don’t know what else to say,” Michael finds himself saying. And just like that, his floodgates open. “I feel so fucking sick. All the time. My throat still — still feels like there’s something in it—” and here Michael’s throat convulses, and he has to swallow hard, “—and I can’t stop dreaming about it. So now I can’t sleep.”

He breaks off, licking his lips compulsively and breathing. The air tastes like semen and blood. “I hate this,” he says with no small amount of anger. “I fucking hate this — I hate what happened to me, I hate that I can’t deal with it, and I hate that I can barely talk about it.”

Michael’s determined stare aimed at the far wall falters, and he glances at Geoff. Then at the four other men.

It’s like looking at five trauma patients. They stare at him. And stare. They don’t even blink and Michael can’t take this—

“Not what you were expecting,” Michael warbles out. His voice pitches wildly. “I’m not stupid — I don’t expect you to feel, like, disgusted with me or anything.”

That shocks Ryan, at least, out of his stupor. “Wha—No! No, of course not. ‘Disgusted’, please. Michael…”

“That,” Michael snaps, pointing viciously at him. “That is what I don’t want.”

“Pity?” Ryan guesses with equal vigor. “Michael — let people feel bad for you!”

“I don’t want pity!” Michael shrills out. “I want to not feel pitiful!”

“You are not — and never were — pitiful,” Jack practically snarls, jolting out of his shock. “Michael, you are the least pitiful person I have ever met.”

Gavin nods along, his sickly pallor not dampening the fire in his hazel eyes. He’s the only one to step forward, but makes no move to touch Michael. He leans, however, and doesn’t break eye contact. “Bad things happened to you. To all of us. No one’s thinking Geoff’s pitiful for being bloody shot.”

Michael’s eyes burn. He doesn’t bother screaming, That’s different! though that is exactly what sits on his tongue. Instead what slips out, utterly unintended, is, “I didn’t even fight back.”

“He had a gun,” Gavin points out shakily.

“He would’ve killed you,” Geoff says slowly, voice trembling.

“It feels like he did,” Michael whispers.

Geoff shakes his head violently. Michael can hear his teeth grind together.

“Michael,” Ray says softly, holding up his hands.

“I know,” Michael spits out. “I know, I’m lucky to be alive. I’m lucky to have you guys, to have support. To have all my fucking teeth—”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” Ray says gently, unperturbed. “I’m sorry it happened to you.”

“I am too,” Michael says, laughing harshly. “It fucking broke me.”

“It hurt you,” Jack says in a voice that’s meant to be correcting.

Michael looks away. He knows they aren’t looking at his mouth, but he feels like their gaze is drawn there, perhaps imagining the act. They have fucked his mouth before — with consent, of course — have commented huskily on how good he looks on his knees, how obscene and delicious his lips look stretched around a cock. Michael had loved it, glad to bestow his boyfriends with a pleasing sight.

And the sight had been ripped open by a stranger, exposed unwillingly to someone that revolts Michael. It makes his stomach clench and turn, and if he’d eaten a full meal today, it would no doubt be all over the tile floor by now.

“Michael,” Geoff says, drawing him out of his disassociating stare. Michael looks at him, and his gaze holds no pity — no disgust. Michael’s breath catches. Geoff simply looks… relieved. “Thank you for telling us.”

Something drops in his gut, but it’s not a bad thing — it’s what he needed to hear. It’s exactly what Michael needed to soothe the magnified burn under his skin. He gasps in a breath, one that seems to fill his lungs completely for once.

Michael’s lips quiver when he tries to reply, so he just settles for a weak nod. There are no tears, but the fresh wound that splits open Michael from hip to hip feels a little less… gaping.

Not quite healing, not yet. But Michael doesn’t need to hold it closed by himself any longer, and with so many hands willing to help him, he can’t help but feel that soon not even the scar will ruin his recovery.

It wasn’t a very interesting bet, but then again Gavin was easily entertained by Michael’s seemingly superhuman pain tolerance.

“God, it’s fucking freezing up here,” Ryan hissed, rubbing the back of his arms frantically to ward off the chill. “You regrettin’ this yet, Michael?”

Michael, with the first few inches of his shoes hanging off the ledge of the building, shrugged. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he said honestly. It reminded him of the tall playgrounds he used to climb on top of when he was in grade school. He would leap off, and more often than not, he would end up with shins covered in bruises and scrapes. And he’d smiled through that.

This didn’t seem much different, and it was definitely worth the five hundred bucks Gavin had put on the table.

Speaking of, Gavin wasn’t looking too confident now. He stared at Michael, who was perched on the ledge, and then he would stare at the ground with an equally frustrated expression.

“What? Were you thinking I’d bitch out once we got up here?” Michael guessed with a smirk. Gavin sent him an unhappy grimace.

“Yes, actually, and now that you haven’t, I’m growing a bit concerned,” he confessed, inching forward but refusing to come within a foot of the ledge.

“Concerned that you’re about to lose five hundred bucks? I would be, too,” Michael laughed.

“I was actually concerned about you bloody penetrating yourself with your femurs,” Gavin said doubtfully.

Michael rolled his eyes and looked at Ryan. “You got the contract, right, Rye-bread?”

Ryan nodded and held up the folded piece of paper. “Signed and proofread by the lovely Jack Pattillo, who could not make it today because we had coupons for Free Birds. Oh, and to add my two cents, I definitely think you’re about to lose five hundred dollars, Gavin.”

“We live together, what does it even matter?” Gavin whined, rubbing the sole of his shoe into the gravely concrete.

“Oh hell no, you’re not fucking reneging,” Michael said in disbelief. “If anyone should be chickening out, it’s me. You fucking signed the contract, Gavino, and I’m about to earn me some moo-lah.”

Gavin stared at him in a typical blank-Gavin stare. It meant he conceded, but fuck if he would ever say that aloud. And to Michael, no less.

“I can’t believe I’m the one condoning this,” Ryan said ruefully, shaking his head with a faint smile.

“But you are condoning it,” Gavin said, and the way he said it made Michael think that perhaps Gavin really was worried about Michael’s safety. His tone was clearly attempting to goad Ryan into either pulling the emergency break or getting someone who would.

Ryan, the good man that he was, couldn’t be so easily swayed. “I am.”

“See? Ryan doesn’t think it’s a bad idea,” Michael pointed out smugly.

“Oh, no. I never said it’s not a bad idea,” Ryan laughed.

“Okay, fine. Ryan doesn’t think I’m going to penetrate myself with my own femurs,” Michael amended.

Ryan’s brow furrowed. “I never said that, either.”

“You’re really not helping here,” Michael told him, but there was no heat to his tone. Glancing at Gavin, he said, “Ready, boi?”

Reaching into his pockets, Gavin took out his phone and walked towards the fire escape that had led them up here.

“Where are you going?” Ryan called the same time Michael said, “Is that a win for me?”

“It’ll be a better angle if I film from ground level!” Gavin shouted back, already making his way down the ladder.

Rolling his eyes, Michael turned back to face the ledge. A few minutes later, Gavin appeared around the corner, looking up and shielding his eyes from the sun. His phone was aimed at Michael.

Okay. He could do this.

Er… fuck.

Michael blew out a sharp gust of air, nerves sizzling like a live wire at the prospect of jumping off the building. It didn’t look as scary as it sounded, but the moment he twitched to leap, his muscles locked up in panic.

“C’mon!” Gavin yelled from below, sounding irritated.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one about to break both legs!” Michael yelled sardonically back. He glanced over his shoulder at Ryan, whose facial expression was bordering between excitement and self-doubt.

Ryan was hesitating to call this off. Michael and Gavin could both tell, and the former didn’t want to give the blond time to reconsider. Holding his breath, Ryan watched as Michael did a small butt wiggle to prepare himself, and then the redhead was pushing off from the ledge and jumping, yelling as he would in a Rage Quit.

As soon as Michael was mid-air, Ryan realized he really should have put his foot down.

It wasn’t that far of a fall, but as Ryan leaned over the edge, he felt as if he was watching Michael fall in slow motion. The roof wasn’t quite two stories towards the back of the building, where there was grass, and Ryan knew Michael was physically durable enough to land without hurting himself… much. The bet had been based more on ‘will you do it’ rather than ‘can you do it’.

And it didn’t occur to Ryan until now that yeah, Michael was definitely going to do it.

His battle scream faded off enough near the end to hear the sound he made when he landed – on his feet with bent knees, arms spread wide for balance – and it was dull and terrible. On the upside, Ryan could hear no bones breaking. Michael’s arms spun in the air in what Ryan guessed was a sad attempt to keep him upright, but within seconds Michael was toppling over on the grass.

Gavin, whose phone was still out and filming, raced over, breathless with nervousness. “Oh – my god, I can’t believe you just did that. How did you do that?”

Ryan couldn’t help the roll of his eyes. “Ask him if he’s okay!” he yelled down.

“He’s fine, he’s laughing,” Gavin waved back. He went quiet, speaking with Michael in tones lower than Ryan could hear, and the blond was forced to take the fire escape back down to be a part of the conversation.

He turned around the corner of the building, and Michael was still sitting in the grass.

What Ray called ‘protective dad mode’ instantly kicked in.

Jogging his way over, Ryan knocked shoulders with Gavin and stared down at Michael. The redhead was just looking blankly back at them. It was creepy as hell. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” Michael said slowly. His fingers were kneading the grass. “That was fucking…”

Stepping closer, Ryan kneeled in the grass beside Michael, leaning close in order to draw Michael’s full attention to him. Gavin still had the fucking phone out.

“You look a little stunned,” Ryan joked. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Michael assured, but still made no move to stand. His legs were splayed out in front of him, chest rising and falling rapidly as he came down from the adrenaline rush. “That hurt a lot more than I expected it to.”

Ryan laughed, relieved to hear Michael speaking in more complete sentences. “Knees?” he guessed.

“Ankles,” Michael said dolefully, a cringe flashing across his face when he gingerly pulled up one leg and felt around the skin just above his shoe. His lips were pursed, expression one of concentration.

“Bollocks,” Gavin sighed angrily, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “I’m out five hundies… Hey Ryan, can I borrow some money?”

Ryan sent Gavin an unimpressed look, but smiled as he turned back to Michael, who was grinning. “Well, come on then, let’s go back inside. It’s still cold out here, even if you may not be feeling it.”

“Why would he not be feeling it?”

“Have you ever had an adrenaline rush?” Ryan said. “Warms your entire body in seconds.”

“Um,” Michael coughed, pulling their attention back to him. Ryan narrowed his eyes. Michael was very nervously gripping handfuls of grass and tearing them out, a jittery habit Ryan knew well. “Okay, fuck, I think I sprained my ankle. Can you help me up?” He paused. “And then help me back to the office?”

“Sprained –” Ryan started before cutting himself off. His heart was hammering. “Oh, fuck! Geoff is going to kick my ass for this. Not as much as he’s going to kick yours, of course, but I’m the adult here. I should’ve –”

“Oh shut it, Ryan,” Michael groaned. “First of all, we’re all adults. If we weren’t, you’d have three shiny, new felonies under your belt. Second, fucking help me up, I think I’m sitting close to dog shit and my ass is getting cold.”

Grumbling lightly, Ryan very carefully hoisted Michael upright, heart pulling in sympathy when the redhead yelped and clung to him for balance.

“Fuck, both of them hurt,” Michael cursed, wincing. He adjusted so that one foot was planted firmly on the ground while the other was raised slightly. “That one hurts less.”

Weaving an arm under Michael’s to more securely steady him, Ryan took a slow step towards the building. Michael followed by hopping, but when they were about to take their second step, Gavin reluctantly took Michael’s weight from the other side.

Ryan couldn’t help but grin and rib Gavin as they made their way around the building to the front door. “This has to be the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen Gavin Free do.”

“As much as I’d like to film the two of you hopping around, it’s bloody cold and I’m going to be held responsible,” Gavin muttered. He was averting his eyes every few seconds from Michael’s strained face, and Ryan could tell he actually felt a little guilty.

“You’re right,” Ryan agreed simply. “For the most part. I have to admit, though… that was a pretty dumb bet.”

“At least I won!” Michael said with a shark-like grin.

“Congrats,” Ryan said flatly. “You get to partially pay your medical bills.”

“It’s a just a sprain,” Michael pointed out, and normally Ryan would agree, but he’s seen twisted ankles end up as more than just twisted ankles. The bones in the foot were easily damaged with impact, and jumping from nearly two stories was definitely not good for them.

“We’ll see what Geoff says,” Ryan decided to say as he pushed open the door. It was an easy way to sum up the argument in a way that left both of them knowing Ryan was right.

Kara got out of her chair and fluttered her hands nervously in front of Michael’s body, as if attempting to carry some of his weight by air bending it, but after many reassurances from the redhead himself, she allowed them to continue into the empty AH office.

Ryan helped settle Michael into his chair, eyeballing the redhead all the while. “We can either wait for them to come back from their lunch or we can call Jack now, and he can drive us to a walk-in clinic.”

Michael’s upper lip curled. Neither of those options sounded appealing. But even the slightest movement of his foot sent ridges of pain washing up Michael’s spine. “Uh – we can call him now,” he said tightly, red-faced and puffing.

Ryan and Gavin shared a concerned glance before the latter took out his phone and called Jack. He was very brisk.

“Jack, stop stuffing your gob. We need a ride.”

“We being who?”

“Me, Michael, and Ryan.”

“Can’t this wai –”

Gavin glanced at Michael, whose eyes were squinty and watery with pain. Turning his back on the redhead, he swallowed his rising guilt and said, “Er, no. Are you going to pick us up from the office or no? Aren’t you just across the street?”

He heard Jack sigh on the other line. “I’m at Free Birds,” he answered. Gavin could hear the crinkling of a burger wrapper in the background. “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Five,” Gavin quickly said when Michael hissed in pain.

“Five,” Jack growled back, “If it’s so damned urgent.”

Gavin hung up on him, which, yes, was a little rude, but his boi was hurt. And whether or not Gavin was going to own up to it, it was definitely his fault. It hadn’t been a creative or enjoyable bet at all, but it was an easy way to pass the time and earn some easy bucks. Gavin liked to talk big, but he really hadn’t thought Michael would actually do it.

When he turned back around, Ryan and Michael were arguing in low, heated tones. Michael was inching his chair away from the blond’s outstretched hands.

“It’ll be easier if we take the shoe off now, before it starts to swell,” Ryan said, raising his eyebrows. “Unless you want to cut those sneakers off later?”

Michael bit his lip, groaning in annoyance but allowing Ryan to lean forward and carefully grip Michael above the ankle. A few sharp hisses escaped him while Ryan worked off the shoe painstakingly slow. When it was finally free, Michael practically ripped his leg away from Ryan’s loose grasp.

“I have to take the sock off –”

“The sock is stretchy and will come off,” Michael countered, feeling cold all over as the sweat from the earlier thrill began to cool on his skin. He was aching for a painkiller – or twenty. “Plus, it’s a sock. Between the six of us, we have thousands. If this one has to be cut off, so be it.”

Ryan shrugged in agreement, but didn’t move from his kneeling position in front of Michael’s chair. “Can I see it?”

Michael stared at him suspiciously, foot still suspended out of reach.

“I’m not going to take your stupid sock, I just want to look at it,” Ryan said in exasperation. Michael sighed and gave in, knowing that Ryan was going to get his way regardless of what he said.

With naturally cold fingers, Ryan handled his ankle in a manner that was misleadingly professional. If he didn’t know any better, Michael would have assumed Ryan was an expert in the medical field. He poked and prodded, squeezing around his stupid, swelling lower leg until he hit a point that sent a lace of pain up the redhead’s spine.

“That hurt?” Ryan said in response to his flinch.

“What do you fucking think? I already told you that I sprained it,” Michael said in a tight voice. “I knew that. I could already feel the pain. I didn’t need you groping around to tell me that.”

Ryan didn’t seem fazed by his waspish reply, simply letting Michael’s leg relax back to hovering an inch off the ground. Michael was propped awkwardly up in his chair to take any pressure off his foot, but there was still a persistent, dull throb.

The door opened quietly and Jack walked in, a rather annoyed expression on his face. There was a crinkled back of Free Birds takeout in his fist. “I’d only been there four minutes,” Jack said snippily when Gavin rolled his eyes and muttered something nasty.

“Thank you for hurrying, Jack,” Ryan said kindly, taking the bag and putting it on Jack’s desk. He opened his mouth with the intent to say something blunt, like ‘Michael needs to go to the walk-in clinic to get his foot x-rayed’ but he immediately rethought and glanced at Michael. He was looking a little pale and not in the mood to be thrown under the bus.

“Well, where are we going?” Jack said impatiently, motioning to the door.

“What, is your lunch date waiting?” Gavin said.

“I’d like to get back to my lunch break, yeah,” Jack answered. “I spent the rest of the day trapped in this closet with you five, and then trapped in Geoff’s house with you five. This is my well-deserved time off.”

“It’s a relationship, not a job,” Ryan said, but it was weak. It was met with three very haughty stares.

“Anyway,” Gavin said, looking back to Jack. “If it’s not too much trouble for your stomach to go without eating for ten minutes, can you drive us to the walk-in clinic?”

Jack’s irritation melted, eyes widening as the frown entrapping his mouth untwisted. “The clinic? For wha–” His gaze landed on Michael, who’d been suspiciously quiet since his arrival. The concern faded somewhat when he saw it was Michael. “What happened?”

“Don’t look so worried,” Michael said defensively. His eyes cut to Gavin. “Uh – fucked up my ankle. It’s just a sprain, but Rye-bread wants to get an x-ray. Because he likes to waste money.”

“Gentle reminder that between the six of us, we spent nearly ten grand per month on video games,” Ryan muttered, though Michael had no idea if that was actually true.

“Those are job expenses,” Gavin pointed out. “This is money out of our own pocket… not that I’m opposed to going. I’ll be waiting in the car while you get a receipt for ice and rest.”

“You’re awful smug for someone who basically caused this,” Michael said darkly, glowering at Gavin.

Gavin scoffed and began gathering air for a rebuttal, but Jack cut him off. “Let’s go if we’re going. I want to beat rush hour. Do you need help?” He aimed his last question at Michael.

“I don’t need to be carried, if that’s what you’re asking,” Michael said with a laugh. He managed to struggle out of the chair and lean heavily on Ryan’s shoulder while standing. “Some help, though, yeah.”

 Ryan weaved a hand around and this time with Jack – who was a much better helper than Gavin – helped Michael out of the building and to the car. With Geoff not there to drive, Jack took the driver side, Ryan the passenger seat, and Gavin and Michael took the second row.

On the way to the clinic, Gavin pulled up the video of Michael jumping, and Michael leaned in close to watch it with him. They were both grinning.

---

“I totally told you.”

“I never said I disagreed, and besides they said a sprain can be worse than a break. It’s better to play it safe than sorry.”

“That would have been better said before I jumped,” Michael said airily, still smiling at the news that his ankle was indeed just sprained. It was now wrapped snugly with Ace bandages and on ice, and he’d been given some low grade painkillers to take the edge off. Michael felt infinitely more relaxed. Plus, he was given crutches, which he could smack at people with. Already Gavin had gleefully stolen them twice and a crutch sword fight had been initiated.

Ryan didn’t reply, a crease between his eyebrows appearing. Michael slowly lowered the crutch from where it’d been crossed against Gavin’s.

“Just kidding, Rye-bread. I would have jumped anyway,” Michael continued glibly, but there was a hint of sincerity in his tone. He could already see the symptoms of growing regret in the blond’s blue eyes, but if anyone was to blame, it was Gavin and himself.

“Like that makes me feel any better,” Ryan scoffed, pursing his lips. He gestured to the door. “C’mon, I hate this place. Last time I was here, I caught the flu. And I rarely get sick.”

Michael, who felt no urge to get sick and got sick pretty much every month anyway, agreed heartily and stood, using his one crutch to balance on while Gavin swung the other one around wildly.

“You guys ready?” Jack asked, poking his head in. “I signed us out.”

“Mm,” Michael hummed and began limping to the door.

Jack looked at Gavin with an expression of disbelief. “Give him back his fucking crutch, jackass. First you persuade him into nearly breaking an ankle and then you take his crutch away.”

Gavin snorted, handing Michael the other crutch. “He didn’t need persuading, and it wasn’t my fault. Well, not completely. Maybe a third.”

“And it was two thirds mine?” Michael  

“You’re the one who bloody jumped!”

“You paid me to do it!” Michael said, laughing. “Speaking of – I definitely expect to receive that cash, Gav-o. Don’t think that this negates anything.”

Gavin’s lower lip pushed out in a way that said he’d been expecting Michael to say that but had hoped he wouldn’t. He didn’t reply, sullenly following after the three as they walked towards the exit. The ER room wasn’t very crowded, but he made it a point to look straight ahead and avoid the other patients.

As they were walking – or limping – out, a familiar car pulled into the parking lot. Even in Michael’s faintly glazed state, brought on from both the drugs in his system and the looming exhaustion, he stopped dead in fear. Gavin, whose nose was in his phone, ran into him.

Geoff and Ray, Michael’s worst fucking nightmares, exited the car. Both were wearing awfully calm masks as they walked together up the sidewalk. The men they were heading for seemed frozen on the spot, except for Jack. Fucking Jack.

Geoff weaved through Jack and Ryan to lay a heavy hand on Michael’s shoulder, pulling him a bit closer as you would greeting an old friend. It wasn’t quite a hug, but it relieved Michael to know he wasn’t going to be immediately chewed out for jumping off a damn building.

But then Ray was marching up and raising a hand and –

Smack!

The skin of his cheek tingled and burned, just enough to be painful. Stunned, Michael rocked back on his crutches, leaning on the side to raise a hand to the cheek in wide-eyed surprise. He could only stare at Ray in shock, his mouth hanging open.

“You deserved that,” Ray said in lieu of explanation. He didn’t even seem mad now, just satisfied that his message had been sent. “Gavin sent me the video. Jumping off a building, Michael? Really? For what, a hundred bucks?”

“First of all, no, I settled for five hundred. I’m not a whore, Ray,” Michael blurted, rubbing his cheek with a slightly wounded pride. “Second, he was filming for an RT Life. Not for scaring you.”

“He asked what happened,” Gavin defended. “Jack called him but didn’t say much, so Ray texted me.”

“I didn’t say much because I didn’t want them to freak out that we were at the hospital for a sprained ankle,” Jack said easily. Michael couldn’t blame him for being able to shrug it off so simply. He, after all, had the cleanest hands out of the four.

“I’m glad you went,” Geoff said honestly. “Even if it was nothing. I had a buddy in the army fuck up his ankle for life when he didn’t get ‘just a sprain’ checked out.”

Ryan nodded, looking relieved that Geoff agreed. Even with insurance, it had cost a hefty dollar, which had come out of the shared back account.

“Are we not going to talk about how Ray just slapped me?” Michael yelped, a hand still cradling his cheek.

“Well, I would’ve been out of line if I punched you,” Ray said, spreading his palms. “But since you seem to think you’re invincible, I figured some guaranteed pain would knock some sense into you.”

“I would have fucking preferred the punch,” Michael muttered. “Why the hell are you so angry?”

Ray gaped at him. “I’m angry because I’m in a relationship with two men whose brains seemed to have gotten hitched and left the building.”

“You were all for me practically being smothered to death by that energy powder,” Michael said sullenly, but the heat in his tone was dampened significantly by Ray’s anger.

“A mouthful of radioactive spit isn’t quite the same as leaping to your death,” Ray said, irritation just barely concealed in his voice. At the look Michael gave him, he sighed and said, “Okay, maybe not death. But a two story building can seriously fuck you up.”

“And he did it for cheap, too,” Ryan added.

“How much?” Ray asked.

“Five hundred isn’t cheap,” Michael said, his underarms beginning to ache from supporting himself with the crutches. “And it wasn’t two stories.”

Ray looked divided. “How much were you paid for the BBQ sauce again?”

“The money doesn’t matter,” Geoff interrupted.

“He’s right,” Gavin said in a happy voice. “It’s the footage that’s important.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Geoff said quickly. “He doesn’t exist to cure your boredom, Gavin. Goddammit. Your safety is the most important, not the footage, not the money, and not each others fucking entertainment.”

Michael averted his eyes and nodded his understanding. He couldn’t say he disagreed. If it were, for example, Ray, doing something reckless and dangerous – with the near promise of injury – then Michael wouldn’t be very happy, either. It was scary enough for Geoff to send two of his idiots out to Immersion every week.

Looking around, it was clear that the words had gotten to everyone. Geoff, who was satisfied and very possibly enjoying the cowed look on everyone’s face, clapped his hands together and gestured to the car.

“Ride with me, Ryan, and Jack can drive Michael and the rest home in the van.”

---

Ryan pulled the passenger door shut with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Watching Michael gimp across the parking lot to the van left him with an odd urge to simultaneously laugh and sink his head in guilt.

Starting the car, Geoff was quick to pull out and lead the way home.

He spoke into the windshield. “Thanks for taking him to the hospital, Ryan. Saved me an unneeded argument.”

“’Course, Geoff,” Ryan nodded.

“So, I’m a little confused,” Geoff said casually, and Ryan wished he could just sink through the bottom of the car. “Were you overseeing the bet?”

“I guess you could say that,” Ryan said shiftily.

When Geoff spoke, it was eerily calm. Ryan felt as if he should be ducking. “And you watched, right? Watched him jump.”

“I didn’t think he’d actually get hurt,” Ryan told him, grimacing. “Michael’s just sorta indestructible.”

At his words, Geoff’s gradually growing anger was washed out from under him.

“Listen, Ryan. As… as your guys’ boss,” Geoff started, blowing out a large sigh and unclenching his hands on the steering wheel. “I have a responsibility to look after you. When you’re at the office, when you’re employed and working, your wellbeing is in my hands. Out of the six of us, I have the job that requires me trying to return you back home all in one piece.”

Ryan frowned at the sudden emotion beginning to flood Geoff’s voice. He reached forward a hand and palmed over the back of Geoff’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. The tattooed man looked grateful.

“That job is fucking terrifying,” Geoff confessed, rubbing his eyes with the air of an old, old man. “And it’s only made worse by me moonlighting as the boyfriend, too. I was worried, at first, that that would cause a conflict between home life and work life, but our jobs are so relaxed that it didn’t end up mattering.”

“Our ‘work mode’ isn’t quite the average,” Ryan smiled.

“Not really,” Geoff agreed. “But I still have that duty, and it’s turned into a twenty-four hour fucking job. You and Jack help, of course, because we’re the Gents. We look out for the morons. And theoretically Michael should be looking out for the Lads because he’s the oldest, but when shit like this happens, I forget that he and the other Lads are not as resilient as we treat them.”

Ryan swallowed harshly. “Life-threatening situations don’t usually happen,” he pointed out as reassuringly as he could, but he and Geoff knew that they weren’t talking just about today’s adventure.

“Ryan.” Geoff stated, looking him in the eye. “Michael jumped off a building today.”

“Yeah, that was pretty stupid,” Ryan admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And it was partly my fault. But Geoff – they aren’t kids. At twenty and over, they’re able to take care of themselves.”

“In the barest sense of the word ‘care’, maybe,” Geoff allowed reluctantly. “I mean… they’re still alive. But Ryan, you’re not getting it. I am in charge of you five, nine including the Thugs. If you get hurt at work, or if your safety is threatened, legally speaking, it’s on my hands. And at home – if you get hurt or your safety is threatened, it’s morally on my hands. I just – I can’t win.”

Ryan frowned. “Geoff, we aren’t pets. You’re not playing a game to keep us alive. We’re adults. In a healthy, committed relationship with you, who happens to be our boss,” he shrugged. “An accident happened today. No one was seriously injured, and we – Gavin, Michael, and myself – take the blame for it. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing.”

Geoff shook his head, furrowing his brow. “It’s not nothing, Ryan, because I get the same feeling sometimes; that Michael’s indestructible, before it comes back to me. And – I look at Gav and think he doesn’t care. I think he’s mentally unbreakable. I think any insults I throw at him will bounce off, and he’ll still be grinning. But that’s not true – they bounce, but they dent him a little sometimes if I say something too mean about something too sensitive. We have thick skin, but it’s not armor.”

Ryan couldn’t deny that he, too, felt Gavin was somewhat immune to mere words. Looking down at his feet, Ryan waited, as the older man was clearly not finished.

“And I look at Michael and I forget that he’s just as soft and squishy as I am. His bones will break just like mine. Fuck, he gets sick every damn month, and practically hacks out a lung right there in the office. He likes to pretend he’s invulnerable to shit around him, and he may have some of us fooled, but Ryan, I walk into that damn building knowing that sometimes people get hurt, and sometimes it’s one of us.”

Geoff swallowed. “I know it’s a little irrational. You’re all adults… but that doesn’t mean a damn thing, really. We work in an unorthodox work environment, where just a few months ago Michael was crashing a kart into dozens of bananas with the intent to spin out. I know that none of us are going to die or anything, but I also know that sometimes accidents happen. And it scares the living hell out of me.”

There was a long silence after Geoff poured his heart out. Nothing Ryan could think to say was good enough to be thrown out there, so he watched out the window and sighed. Ryan had never felt what Geoff was experiencing. Maybe he, too, thought himself invincible, though not in such literal terms.

“I don’t really have the right to be throwing stones,” Geoff abruptly said, scratching the back of his head. “Our job holds a certain level of ‘assumption of risk’ or whatever they call it. Bumps and bruises, usually, but sometimes a black eye or a bloody nose. It’s not often a trip to the hospital.”

“Burnie keeps us under control most of the time,” Ryan laughed. “The last blood shed was two months ago, when Miles accidentally elbowed Kerry in the nose during a RWBY Conference.”

Geoff laughed at the memory of Kerry with a large bandage over his nose, obscuring almost half of his vision. He sighed, wringing his hands on the wheel. “Guess we have to reset the timer now.”

---

Turns out that having a gimp leg at the AH office wasn’t as fun as it looked.

He was luckier than Caleb had been, because since he was Michael, he was saved a lot of mocking from Geoff and Ray. Picking on Caleb was a fun activity everyone could enjoy. Picking on Michael was harder, so he was mostly left alone.

With the beautiful exception of Gavin Free.

For the most part, he just used verbal jabs. Michael suspected he felt at least slightly guilty for being the cause of Michael struggling to get up and down stairs. Luckily, there were no stairs in and out of the AH office.

The porch stairs of their house, however, were an issue every morning.

Michael slid into the car on the fifth day with a suspicious glance backwards at Gavin. Any other time and the Brit would have taken the opportunity to steal Michael’s second row seat. The last row was hot as hell since the A/C wasn’t working on one side, something Gavin often bitched about loudly.

But Michael’s seat was left waiting for him when he finally hobbled to the car. The porch steps were his biggest foe. Once he managed to climb into the car, he was huffing with exertion.

The first day he’d been made fun of, but five days later it was old news. His crutches fell sideways into Ryan’s lap, the blond glancing at them before going back to his phone. Geoff turned up the volume on whatever song was playing on the radio – something Michael hadn’t heard before – and pulled out of the driveway.

“How much longer do you need those?” Geoff asked, meeting Michael’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“I go back in on Friday for another X-ray,” Michael said, adjusting so his foot was resting in the isle between seats. A rattle in his pocket reminded him that he hadn’t taken his morning painkiller. “And then I hopefully don’t need the crutches anymore.”

Geoff watched him swallow the pill between traffic lights. “Still hurts?” he asked lightly.

“Only in the mornings,” Michael said truthfully, grimacing. His stomach was beginning to turn with each lurch of the car.

Geoff hummed, eyes falling back onto the road as music once more filled the car. A crutch disappeared from the middle of the isle without Michael noticing. He was too busy curling in on himself in a weak attempt to curb the rising nausea.

Something tapped the back of his seat. Michael glanced over the shoulder of the seat, catching the flash of silver of his crutch as Gavin hurried to hide it. His eyes narrowed. “Gavin. You fuck, give me that back. Last time I checked, you weren’t the one who needed it.”

Gavin grinned at him, a little lackluster than usual but irritating nonetheless. He waved it tauntingly, nearly clocking Ray in the process. “Oop – sorry, Ray. Last time I checked, Michael, you don’t need to walk while sitting down.”

“I know you’re not going to give it back when we get to the office,” Michael growled, voice strained. His stomach didn’t appreciate him twisting around in his seat and his head was starting to feel a little dizzy. “Just like the other four fucking times you’ve ‘forgotten’ to hand it back. I’ve fucking had to adapt to using one crutch because you keep taking the other one!”

“I’ve helped you evolve, Michael!” Gavin crowed, looking all too proud of himself. “You should thank me.”

Michael closed his eyes to suppress the violent urges. That and the vomit.

Ray, after throwing a cautious look to Gavin, said. “Don’t you think since it’s your fault that he’s a fucking cripple now that you should at least be nice to him?”

“No?” Gavin said, like it was the dumbest question he’s heard. He waved the crutch around and rapt Michael harshly on the knuckles.

Retracting his hand quickly, Michael shook his head in annoyance and turned back around. He frowned at the familiar tight feeling in his chest, the hitching sensation that came just before puking. He paled.

“Are we almost there?” Michael asked, pained.

“Yeah,” Geoff said. “Why?”

Michael glanced down at the pill bottle still clutched in his left hand. “I feel sick.”

Everyone in the car stiffened. Geoff’s piercing eyes stared at him again in the rearview mirror, this time much wider.

“Now? Like – now? Puking now?” he asked in growing panic.

Michael swallowed thickly, stomach rolling. He groaned and leaned forward, trying to ignore how Ryan practically plastered himself against the window. “Soon – soon.” He swallowed again. “If we’re not there in thirty seconds or less, you may want to pull over.”

Geoff didn’t hesitate to flick on his turning signal and slowly roll the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road. A loud rush starting up in his ears, Michael clumsily unlocked the door and stumbled from the car. He was barely out of the car before vomit was spilling from his mouth and dripping in the webs of his fingers.

His knees hit grass, injured leg unable to support his weight. They were pulled over on the side of a single lane road with grass fields on each side. Michael was puking into that same grass, stomach completely emptying its contents onto the ground below.

Once he was finished, he sat back on his ass, wiping his mouth on the offered napkin Jack was handing him. Gavin was gagging from behind them, sitting in the running car and watching. Michael felt like punching him, but he knew it wasn’t completely Gavin’s fault. He was just as much of a moron, if not worse.

“Thanks, Jack,” Michael said gruffly, using the man’s broad shoulder to climb to his feet. Jack gripped his elbow to steady him.

Gavin was scrambling to go back to his own seat, saying something along the lines of ‘He’s not coming back in here, is he?!’ but immediately quieting once Michael slumped into in car. Ryan reached over the gap and patted Michael’s knee for comfort.

“Feeling okay?” Jack asked, still lingering in the door on Michael’s side. “Do you want to go back home?”

“At least to brush your teeth?” Gavin said behind them.

“No, I’m fine,” Michael said quickly. “There’s toothpaste in Miles’ office.”

“Are you sick? What’s wrong with you?” Geoff asked as Jack got back in the passenger seat. He pulled away from the curb and back onto the road.

“I forgot that painkillers come with a nausea warning,” Michael said pitifully, wrapping his arms around his stomach. The acidic taste of bile was on the back of his tongue, sharpening every word. His gut clenched as Geoff accelerated.

Gavin snickered, but it was subdued. He himself sounded as if he was trying not to gag. “That was bloody disgusting.”

“You’ve seen me do worse,” Michael pointed out dully.

“Like jump off a building?” Geoff said dryly, a peculiar tightness clinging to each word. Michael could see his hands visibly tighten on the steering wheel.

“What’s your problem?” Michael blurted, buckling his seatbelt.

Ryan glanced between them. “Well, that was worse,” he said carefully. Michael suddenly got the feeling he was stepping on eggshells.

Not even walking. Just stepping and crushing.

“I just don’t know why Gavin is insisting on releasing that video as an RT Life,” Geoff shrugged, and nothing about it was casual.

“What was the point of it, then?” Gavin snapped. It was definitely an argument the two had had before. “If we’re not releasing the video, then it was a damn waste from the start.”

“Funny that you call it a waste,” Geoff practically hissed. “That video is not coming out. It’s going to encourage more of your stupid-ass behavior.”

“Plus we have a younger audience,” Ryan said reasonably. “Do you really want three hundred videos of twelve year olds jumping off buildings?”

“Like YouTube isn’t filled with millions of those already,” Gavin waved off easily.

Geoff shook his head. “That’s not the point. Saying that it was a waste is complete bullshit, Gavin. Getting a video out of it doesn’t mean that it was worth it.”

Gavin’s stony silence very clearly said he disagreed, and Geoff wasn’t having his shit today.

“Gavin,” he said in his difficult voice. “Video isn’t coming out.”

Gavin grumbled something. But then, louder: “What about the other meaningless crap you said?”

“The part about censoring bets?” Geoff said incredulously. “You can’t be serious. Gavin – it was a fucking building. Clearly your judgment is similar to that of a four year old.”

Gavin ignored the insult. “I can admit that we were lacking in the research,” he said. “I didn’t realize – that’s not important, the important bit is how Michael will do absolutely anything for money, the slut.”

“It’s not even the money, it’s the satisfaction of beating you,” Michael confessed, head pressed against the back of Jack’s seat.

“Neither of those are good motive for risking your necks for a video that would probably only get 500,000 views.”

Gavin scoffed. “Want to bet on that number? I’d go with three million at the least.”

“No,” was all Geoff said to that. They pulled up to the office gate a moment later.

Michael grimaced. He honestly didn’t care if the video went up or not. Geoff was oddly touchy about the subject, however. If Michael didn’t know him better, he’d say that Geoff was feeling guilty for something he had no control over.

Oh, wait, Michael knew Geoff extremely well and that was exactly what was happening.

Once they got out of the car, Michael fell into step next to Geoff, which was saying something since he only had once crutch. “I don’t really care, you know,” he said quietly.

Geoff blew out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, I know, and that’s sorta the fucking problem.”

Michael’s brow creased, but before he could say ‘what’s up’, Geoff was already speaking.

“I’m so fucking fed up with these dumbass bets and challenges. The ghost pepper had you cranky for days. Saltine challenge. Barbeque sauce. Ketchup. The spoon of cinnamon…” Geoff trailed off, shuddering. “Then the energy powder – coughing up green goo for weeks! Flipping over the Mario Kart for a ‘good shot’. Burns all over your back and legs from the split-screen Immersion.” Geoff broke off, seemingly out of breath. Michael was sure the others could hear their conversation, but as they walked through the lot, the others kept their eyes forward. “It just never stops. Work bleeds into home life, and Gavin’s still videotaping everything.”

“You do that, too,” Michael muttered, unable to help himself.

“What, the Happy Hours?” Geoff said. “That’s not the same as jumping off a goddamn building, Michael.”

“No, but taping knives to Roombas is dangerous, too,” Michael pointed out.

“I’m there to supervise,” Geoff growled under his breath. “No one ever gets… seriously… injured. I may smear lotion in Gavin’s eye during videos, but I’m not paying him to break bones. There’s a difference and you guys crossed a line.”

Michael blew a sigh out of his nose. Geoff… wasn’t wrong. Their safety always came first, no matter what, and making a bet with the pure intention of injury was incredibly dumb in hindsight. Neither the money nor video was worth the medical costs and continuing pain.

“I’m just saying that you guys should be more careful,” Geoff said with an odd, conflicting tint of disdain. He was trying to be diplomatic. Michael’s lips twitched. “I want to be able to go to lunch without worrying about coming back to see you splattered all over the pavement.”

Michael couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about that, to be honest,” he said. “I don’t think I could survive falling five feet.”

Geoff’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “No more buildings, then?”

“No,” Michael said firmly. “Definitely not.”

Geoff deflated like a balloon, the crow’s feet around his eyes melting. “Or anything of that scale, right? Promise me.” Geoff said quickly. After a thought, he added, “Please.”

Michael rolled his eyes again, smiling. “’Course, Geoff. Once my fucking ankle heals, I’ll be a little more careful. I feel sick and all I taste is vomit right now. It sucks having to limp half-speed after everyone. That and Gavin keeps fucking taking the other crutch.”

They both looked towards Gavin, who was very obviously listening in, but also tapping along the street with the rubber sole of the lost crutch.

Geoff laughed and clapped Michael gently on the back, leaving his hand to rest on the nape of Michael’s neck. “Love you, Michael,” Geoff said, and the sincerity made Michael’s heart skip a beat.

Michael always felt a little odd around them.

His mouth would go dry when talking to one.

His heart would pound as if he’d just skipped a step on the stairs when looking at one.

His hands would tingle, fingers aching with a weird urge to reach over and touch their skin when standing near one.

He was fairly sure it was due to the vampire hormones and was just an unspoken thing between humans. Whatever. He could deal with the occasional awkward boner, even if it was in the middle of his work day with five other guys. In fact, he often abused it and took advantage of his strange fetish; having a vampire as a boyfriend or girlfriend was a tricky thing. He’d dated humans, of course, but with a vampire something was stronger. And yet, even that never lasted. The connection was more substantial than anything he’d ever had with one of his kind before, but there was still something missing.

In retrospect, Michael probably shouldn’t have asked Gavin after knowing him for only a few weeks.

“You want to what?” the Brit said dumbly, looking utterly befuddled. Michael instantly felt awkward at Gavin’s expression. Gavin was looking alarmed, as if Michael had just asked if he had a gun.

He wasn’t about to back down, however. “A – A vampire bar. C’mon, you’re a vampire! You have to know at least one,” he said, crossing his arms and internally frowning at the warmth in his cheeks. He wasn’t embarrassed about his question – he was a little flustered at Gavin’s incredulous, slightly angry look, however.

“Yes, I know many, and you sure as hell are not going to a single bloody one of them,” Gavin said, giving an angry, disbelieving laugh as he downed the rest of his drink and put it on the concrete. He scrubbed random drops of water from his face, the result of spending so long in the pool and having Michael dunk him under multiple times, and hefted himself out of the water, his soggy shorts splattering chlorinated liquid all over the pavement. Michael sighed and followed him out sullenly.

“What’s your problem?” he asked, toweling himself off. The good buzz that they’d had going had suddenly vanished with what Michael saw as an innocent question.

“I can’t believe you would ask me that,” Gavin said hotly. “What a stupid question.”

Michael stared at him, surprised at the venom in his friend’s tone. “You’re being a huge baby,” he scoffed, towel-drying his hair upside down until the damp curls were somewhat tamed. “I just wanna meet somebody. Between working with you morons and coming in on weekends, there’s not a lot of time for socializing.”

“Then go to a human bar,” Gavin spat.

Michael immediately stopped what he was doing, the towel hanging limply by his side. Gavin was shockingly upset by such an innocuous question, the Brit refusing to meet his eyes and instead glaring at the sunbag he was packing up. Angrily stuffing whatever items he’d brought into the pack, Gavin stood and faced away from him.

“Ready yet?” he said impatiently without turning.

“Oh my god, you’re being a dick,” Michael moaned before sighing, “Yeah, whatever. I’m ready. I’ll just fucking ask Geoff or someth –”

Gavin interrupted him with a snicker.

“What?” Michael said suspiciously. He could see Gavin sucking his teeth as they walked across the street together, the RT building within sight from Michael’s apartment.

“Have fun with that,” Gavin said simply, a smirk creeping up the side of his face.

Michael shook his head, rolling his eyes. “So,” he said, pursing his lips. “Why do you know a lot of vampire bars?”

Gavin side-eyed him. “Because I like to mingle,” he said sarcastically.

“If they’re so bad, why do you go?” Michael asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t go,” Gavin frowned, as if what Michael had said was offensive. “They’re hard to avoid when you’re looking for your blood slave.”

Michael cringed at the term. It was such a gross way to put it, in his opinion. Slave. Michael liked to think of it as mate. “I thought you once said not all vampires have one?”

Gavin scratched at his nose, clearly uncomfortable with the topic of this conversation. He opened the door and held it open as the redhead entered, the Brit looking thoughtful. “It’s complicated,” he finally said, sitting down at his desk, still in his wet swim suit. The rest of the guys were still taking lunch, leaving them alone in the office.

“Anyways, I thought you were dating… well…” Michael faded off awkwardly, waving a hand in the air to gesture to the room in general. Michael was no stranger to the fact that vampires were very, erm, sexual creatures and had no qualms with casual sex, even between friends. Michael didn’t ask for details despite his overwhelming curiosity, because as the only human in Achievement Hunter, that would be a little odd if he were to ask about his coworkers’ sex lives, no matter how much he wanted to know. Unsure of who slept with whom, it was easier for Michael to just vaguely include everyone in his assumption.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Dating. Right,” he said, obviously quietly mocking the human terms for it. “And yes. But a vamp can’t have another vamp as a blood slave.”

“Stop calling it that,” Michael said. “It sounds so terrible.”

“Sorry. Mate. Better?”

“Much,” Michael said smugly. “So then, what makes up a mate?”

Gavin eyed him, clearly skeptical of Michael’s line of questioning. The two had only known each other a few months, so it was understandable, but even since starting this job, Michael had been dying to ask someone these questions. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wanted to confirm, and Gavin was the perfect person to ask. Or so he’d thought. Clearly the Brit wasn’t completely willing to share this information. Maybe Michael should ask Geoff, who was very open about things such as his sexuality.

“Well,” Gavin said slowly, fidgeting in his seat. His ass left wet marks on the material. “There’s a specific human… designed for a vampire, I guess you could say. Sometimes a human can be a blood slave to a lot of vamps, and sometimes a lot of humans can be with one vampire. It’s all about the blood chemistry with the vampire’s venom. In this day and age, with over seven billion people in the world, it’s rare that a vampire actually finds his or her blood slave. Humans who get on with vamps that aren’t their mate just have to forgo being fed from because otherwise their bodies will reject the bite and get infected. Or they… take the bites and live very short lives.”

Michael hummed in thought, eyes glazing over as he stood, leaning against his desk chair. Gavin watched him with apprehension.

“Why are you asking me all of this?” Gavin asked nervously, fiddling with the drawstring of his shorts. He was beginning to fear that Michael was starting to figure out what Gavin and the rest knew from the moment they saw him.

“Because,” Michael said, shrugging. “I basically live in this room with five vampires. I should probably know at least something from your culture.”

Gavin nodded, but he continued to bit his lip and fret. Most of his worries, however, were wiped clean from his mind when Michael suddenly turned and pulled down his bathing suit, exposing his creamy, supple ass to Gavin, who promptly turned red. His eyes were trained on Michael’s ass as he stood straight up and wrung out his suit.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Gavin squeaked. His heartbeat was suddenly very loud in his head.

Michael glanced over his shoulder at him, eyebrows raised. “What? Like you haven’t seen everyone else’s butt here. Does it really matter?”

Gavin just stared at him in distress, mouth open as he floundered, unable to keep his eyes on Michael’s face for longer than a second before they started to wander down to his buttocks once more. He licked his lips unconsciously, pupils beginning to dilate as he zeroed in on the pale, plump cheeks. They were utterly smooth, begging to be marked, and his thighs were slender and milky white. As Michael shifted to retrieve a dry pair of pants from his bag, his legs parted slightly and Gavin could feel his fangs poke into his lower lips as Michael’s inner thigh was slightly revealed to him. The femoral artery; Gavin could see it just under the delicate skin, one puncture with his fangs through the thin tissue and –

He swallowed thickly, his throat feeling dry and scratchy. Forcing his gaze away, he cursed his beating heart – he felt a lot more for Michael Jones than just lust. As much as he wanted to take the boy right now, just sink his teeth right in and never let go, he couldn’t. The redhead’s blood may call to him, singing sweet, tempting lullabies to him throughout the day, but his big brown eyes and blinding smile meant more to Gavin than that.

“You can look now,” he heard Michael said sarcastically, barely peeking over and breathing a sigh of relief when Michael was fully dressed, shirt and all. Plopping down in his chair, Michael stretched and yawned.

“Glad we took a late lunch,” he commented idly, shaking the mouse of his computer to awaken the machine. Gavin nodded in agreement, still trying to reel in his defective fangs. They were elongated and deathly sharp, arousal being the cause, and Gavin didn’t dare open his mouth. Michael already asked enough personal questions about his alternative lifestyle.

“Gavin?” a sharp voice said from the doorway. Both Michael and Gavin whipped around to see Geoff giving the Brit a very cautious look, his pupils near pinpoints. He could smell the waves of lust coming emanating from Gavin.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Gavin answered, “Yeah?”

Geoff closed the door behind him slowly, glancing pointedly at Michael, who’d turned back to his computer to type in the password.

“Alright, buddy?” Geoff asked, walking over to his desk and setting down the brown paper bag full of what smelled like donuts onto the table top. His jacket was slung over one arm, sunglasses pushing his hair back from his forehead.

Gavin’s gaze slid over to Michael, narrowing when an idea came to him. He was annoyed with the redhead for asking such a dumb question. Vampire bars were dangerous and risky, STDs spread easily between members and people getting accidentally bitten in the haze of arousal. There was no way he was letting Michael, his own, albeit unknowing, mate, anywhere near one.

“Michael wanted to know where the nearest vampire bar was,” Gavin answered casually, watching as the dark-haired man tensed up instantly. Gray eyes darted to Michael immediately as the redhead wheeled around in his chair, looking expectantly at Geoff as if the tattooed man was going to give him an answer. Gavin smirked to himself when Michael’s face paled at the glower quickly seeping into Geoff’s expression.

“What?” Michael blurted, slightly nervous at the dangerous look crossing Geoff’s face.

“Absolutely not,” Geoff ground out. He stepped closer, leaning over Michael. “Those places will fuck you up.”

There was a long silence as Michael digested the odd, ringing sense of authority in his boss’s voice. Geoff stepped away, satisfied that his message had been sent and sat down in his chair.

“What does that mean?” Michael finally asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“It means that you aren’t going, Michael,” Geoff said flatly.

Michael grumbled something akin to you’re not the boss of me causing Geoff to laugh. He almost cursed himself – stupid vampire hearing. They always managed to hear whatever he mumbled under his breath.

“That’s exactly what I am,” Geoff snickered.

“Right,” Michael said, rolling his eyes as Ray opened the door, letting Jack and Ryan in as their lunch break came to an end. He was far from convinced, however. Geoff couldn’t actually stop him; he may’ve been his boss at work, and while Michael found the guy attractive, he wasn’t the boss of him outside this dank little room.

The conversation ended on a rather sour note, but Gavin was breathing easier once the topic was gone from his mind. Michael wasn’t particularly aware of it, but Geoff was the alpha in their little awkward, confusing relationship. He was scary – intimidating, even. Despite being human, Michael had to at least feel slightly under Geoff’s power. Being his mate, he should have already, but Michael was stubborn and unaware of their bond.

Gavin was at least pretty certain that Michael wasn’t going to be going out anytime soon.

---

Michael fucking despised knowing Gavin was right.

He woke with a throbbing headache, a painful ache reverberating up his lower back, and his arm feeling as if it’d been lit on fire.

Not good.

Before opening his eyes and facing whatever awaited from under his closed lids, Michael let out a soft whimper at the pain in his right forearm, the skin covered in what felt like a thousand small pricks digging into the flesh. He curled into himself, talking in the feel of soft, silky sheets under his naked body and abruptly realized he was most definitely not in his own bed.

His eyes shot open, taking in the thick, black comforter he was nuzzling. Eyes focusing beyond that point, he took a moment to process a large wooden dresser directly across from him, a mirror propped up directly behind it, giving Michael a perfect view of himself. He was swaddled in a warm, ebony bedspread, red satin sheets covering the bed. His hair stuck out in maddening curls, the wild strands messy and tangled. He had some serious bedhead.

Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, hissing between clenched teeth at the intense ache in his tailbone. His muscles felt like they’d been chewed on, stretched, and even cut in some places as he checked himself over, rubbing at a few spots where bruises were littering the pale skin. There weren’t many – just a few dark splotches around his thighs and hips – but they were darkening fast. His right wrist was tender with every motion, and Michael was frankly a little horrified at the sight of his forearm.

Two black dots on his arm were at the center of a very angry, nasty-looking bruise that covered the skin on the inside of his arm. It was puffy and red, warm to the touch as Michael brushed it with soft fingers. Pain shot up the limb at even the lightest graze and he quickly abandoned the wound in favor of finding some clothes, acutely aware that he was currently sitting naked in a stranger’s bed.

It took him an embarrassingly long amount of time to crawl off the bed. His backside felt as if it’d been stepped on by a goddamn elephant. His gut sank as he began to connect the dots. The hand-shaped bruises, the ache in his back, the sore muscles –

“Where are you going?”

Michael froze at the deep, unfamiliar voice. He managed to steady himself on shaky feet as he turned, eyes locking onto a figure standing in the open doorway. The room had a medieval feel to it, the door having a knocker on the front and an oddly shaped doorknob.

The man standing there was utterly unfamiliar. He looked upset as he looked at Michael, but as his dark, larger than normal eyes roamed up and down his figure, his anger visibly faded. Brushing a hand through his short, spiky brown hair, he hungrily let his eyes linger on Michael’s stomach and – er – lower bits.

“Where are my clothes?” Michael asked hollowly, already having reached a conclusion of who this man was and what he was doing here.

“Burned ‘em,” the guy said casually, stepping closer. He frowned when Michael backed up.

“What the fuck – you burned my clothes?” Michael repeated angrily. His voice was hoarse. “Did I – Did I come here with you or something?” He rubbed his eyes on the back of his hands. “Why don’t I remember anything – ugh –”

The guy nonchalantly shrugged. “Bad venom does that,” he said easily, tossing a pair of large jeans on the bed along with a black shirt with no design on it. They were far too big for Michael.

“Bad venom?” Michael said blankly. He looked at his arm then, realization causing his heartbeat to spike. “You bit me.”

“Sure did,” the guy said, licking his lips and leering at Michael. “You taste pretty damn good, for not being mine and all.”

“Not being – what the fuck, dude,” Michael said hoarsely, snatching the clothes from the bed as soon as the man stepped away. He tugged on the clothes in a hurry. He couldn’t get away from this guy’s gaze fast enough.

“What’s your problem?” the man said, frowning and crossing thick arms. Michael could at least understand that he’d gone for this guy – he was one helluva looker. But for some reason, his stomach felt like it was going to curl in on itself. Not out of disgust, though that was prevalent as well, but out of guilt.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” Michael demanded, throwing out his arm violently to display the large, nasty looking bite on his arm. The guy barely looked at it, shrugging.

“Usually what happens,” he said dismissively.

“What the fuck!” Michael said angrily. The guy didn’t look the slightest bit surprised at his outburst. “I don’t even know your name! Tell me what the fucking hell happened last night. Right now.”

The guy raised an eyebrow, looking distinctly unimpressed. As Michael began to puff up once more, inhaling a long, deep breath in preparation for a verbal assault on this asshole, the air was knocked from his lungs when he was suddenly shoved against the wall, the vampire in front of him moving too quickly for him to see. Heart pounding, Michael struggled against the man’s tight grip on his jaw. His head was slammed against the wall, effectively stunning him and making his grip on the hand clutching his throat go lax and fall to the side.

“Stop talking,” the man said, lips brushing over Michael’s Adam apple. Michael’s breath hitched, and the scent coming off the man in tantalizing waves made his dick twitch in his borrowed pants. “Ah,” the man hummed. “There we go. You up for another round?”

Michael still had his mind about him enough to hiss out, “No fucking way.”

The man frowned, his grip on Michael’s throat loosening. “You sure?” he said, obviously disappointed.

“Get the fuck off,” Michael said shakily.

The man sighed, but released Michael, who almost fell to the floor. His knees were close to buckling as he glared at the man.

“I slept with you,” Michael said, and just saying the words made him sick to his stomach.

The guy grinned and nodded. “I’d say we did pretty good, too,” he purred, eyes raking up and down Michael’s body. “I wouldn’t say no to a round four.”

“Four,” Michael breathed in horror. “We – we had sex four times last night?”

The guy looked faintly offended. “Of course not. I take my time, baby.”

“Then what the hell –”

“All day yesterday,” the guy said, grinning lecherously. “You came over to my place for a little fun two nights ago.”

“Two nights,” Michael whispered to himself. He felt the urge to puke. “Why the hell can’t I remember anything. Did you – did you date rape me?”

“I already said. It’s the venom,” the guy said, rolling his eyes. “Seems to have worn off. Lucky me.”

“Don’t look so disappointed,” Michael snapped seriously, face beginning to flush. “Why the hell did you burn my clothes? Where are my keys?”

“You clothes stank of who scented you,” the guy said wrinkling his nose. “And your keys are upstairs.”

“Who scented me?” Michael said blankly, shaking his head in confusion. Lights burst behind his eyes at the nauseating movement.

“Yeah, your mates,” the guy said as if Michael was dumb. “God, you weren’t this stupid at the bar–”

“I’m fucking leaving,” Michael said waspishly, face covered in a humiliated flush as he went to move around him. The man let him go, looking at Michael as if he was crazy.

Hell, maybe he was.

The guy’s house was fancy as hell. Cherry oak wood floors, large fancy chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, and glass ceilings met Michael outside of the bedroom. The man followed behind him, audibly smirking as Michael tried to navigate through the enchanting halls. Finally reaching what looked like the living room, he aggressively grabbed his keys and wallet from the living room table top. Now that he really looked around, the place did indeed stir a vague memory plagued with arousal and heat, his body feeling uncomfortably warm.

The vampire sniffed from behind him. “See? You remember at least a little.”

Michael glared at him from over his shoulder, cheeks red. “Shut the fuck up. Where’s the front door?”

“You’re still wearing my clothes,” the man growled, clearly annoyed that Michael was leaving. He pointed to a large pair of glass stained doors anyway.

“Well, you shouldn’t have fucking burned mine,” Michael snapped, forcing himself to walk quickly to the door instead of flat out run. He couldn’t leave fast enough; this guy was giving him some serious heebie-jeebies.

He slammed the door behind him, ignoring the odd look from the passing neighbor walking her dog. He clutched his wallet and jingling keys to his chest as if they were about to be blown away, his heart feeling heavy and stomach like lead.

He had a very hard time getting home. After thirty minutes of walking, he realized he didn’t have his phone and felt like banging his head on the brick wall of the nearest convenient store.

“I don’t want to do this,” Michael said to himself as he walked into the store. The tile of the floor was chilly against his bare soles.

“What was that, sir?” the clerk asked him, looking at him curiously. Glancing down at his shoeless feet, she looked startled. “You need shoes to be in here, sir.”

“Can I borrow your phone?” Michael asked.

Her mouth quirked down, but she led him behind the counter and to the old-fashioned phone hung up on the wall. He took it from the cradle and dialed a number he’d long ago memorized.

“Hello?”

“Ray,” Michael whispered.

“Michael,” Ray said slowly. “Where are you? What number are you calling from?”

“Er – hold on,” Michael rasped, holding the phone away from his mouth and asking the clerk, “What address is this?”

She gave him a weird look but rattled off a bunch of random names and numbers. As Michael was about to relay the information, Ray said, “That’s all the way across town! Where’s your cell phone?”

“Can you just pick me up?” Michael said in annoyance.

There was a sigh of frustration and a long silence before Ray muttered, “Fifteen minutes.”

Michael smiled as he hung up the phone. And that was why he’d called Ray.

---

It showed how slowed down Michael’s mental processes were when he didn’t come to think that calling Ray wasn’t his best idea. Ray couldn’t drive. He may’ve been able to keep Michael’s secret, yes, but Jack probably wasn’t going to.

They pulled up to the side of the gas station slowly, Jack squinting through the windshield as he searched for Michael. Ray was a tad more relaxed, reclined in the passenger seat and glancing every so often at Jack as if the big man was going to drive them into a wall. Michael was wary as he crept out from the store, dressed in an oversized, plain black tee and jeans that were slowly riding down his bruised ass. He looked pathetic and felt like he was about to cry as Jack unlocked the doors for him.

“Michael, where the hell -” Jack started.

“Can you please just take me back to my place?” Michael interrupted with a tired sigh. His arm was beginning to turn an interesting shade of red, his fingers going a tad numb. He didn’t dare look at the wound, afraid that he might see his arm falling off. It sure felt like it was.

Jack pouted but pulled away from the curb obediently and got on the main road back to Austin. Michael was fairly sure he’d been an entire town over, but he hadn’t a clue how he got there. He was inexplicably relieved, however, to be back in the company of his friends, the familiar scent of their van and, by extension, them soothing Michael more than what was probably normal. It didn’t stop him from snuggling into the warm presented to him in the far back of the van.

He could hear Jack and Ray talking to each other in low voices at the front of the car but the redhead ignored them. They sounded as if they were speaking mostly in growls, anyway. It was no skin off Michael’s back to simply turn his head away and into the back seat, the smell of Gavin’s hair gel and Ray’s detergent surrounding him as he slowly inhaled and exhaled. His arm continued to sting and throb, but the pain was dulled by the presence of the two vampires he hardly knew not feet away.

Technically, Michael was spanking new at Achievement Hunter. He was the last one to join, probably for a while, and he was the odd one out. He managed to make a little nest for himself regardless, making some fantastic friends in the process. Hell, he felt closer to these five idiots – who weren’t even his own species! – than anyone Michael had ever known. He supposed it was a bit sad, but they seemed to like him too, even if he wasn’t involved in their freaky sex orgies. No matter how much he wanted to be. As it was, their scent continued to warm his insides and give his head the fuzzies.

He was stirred from his drowsy state by a rough hand on his shoulder shaking him away. He had to forcibly peel his eyes open, mind sluggishly working to process the face staring into his.

Geoff.

“C’mon,” Geoff said with a surprising amount of warmth. “Let’s get you in a bed.”

Michael groaned as light spilled into the car, burning his eyes and causing his head to throb. Geoff was making a weird face as he wormed his hands under Michael’s arms and started to effortlessly pull him out, his vampire strength managing to make Michael feel as light as a plastic bag in Geoff’s arms.

“Why are you carrying me?” Michael asked when he finally realized he was feet off the ground.

“Because you weren’t moving,” Geoff answered. Michael could hear the frown in his voice.

Michael sighed sleepily into Geoff’s bare arm, the smooth, inked skin like silk against his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as something cold and heavy wrapped around his heart. To his distant horror, tears started to collect in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

There was a long silence as Geoff lugged him through the front door and into the nearest bedroom. Gently setting him down on the bed, Geoff covered him with a blanket and tucked in the corners so Michael was securely wrapped in the soft sheet.

“Yeah, I know,” Geoff whispered, brushing Michael’s hair back. The redhead hummed in comfort, and despite being fairly sure he was dreaming, he fell asleep easily anyway.

---

“Alright, assholes,” Geoff announced loudly as soon as the door was shut. “We’ve got one helluva problem.”

Jack’s fists were clenched. “He reeks,” the bearded man growled. The phrase would’ve sounded a little odd out of context, but it was enough to raise the hair on each mans’ neck.

Gavin pressed a hand to his stomach, face pale. “I think that answers where he’s been all weekend. He – he asked me where a vampire bar was.”

Ryan raised his hand to volunteer, “I’ll do a blood test,” he said. “I got some friends in the medical clinic down the road. I’ll make sure there’re no STDs or infections or anything else we need to worry about.”

Geoff scrubbed a hand over his face, nodding. “Good idea,” he muttered. “This is going to be awkward, but Ryan – can you make sure there are no puncture wounds? God forbid he was bitten. Then we’d have even more of a shit storm to handle than we already do.”

Ryan nodded and slipped soundlessly into the bedroom. Geoff could hear the water running as the blond washed his hands in the master bathroom.

“Gavin,” Geoff grit out, turning to look at the Brit. “What the fuck did you tell him?”

“Nothing! I told him there was no way he was going, same as you told him,” Gavin said heatedly. “It’s his fault; he’s a bloody idiot –”

“It’s our fault,” Ray said quietly. At Gavin’s look of outrage, he explained further. “We’ve been stupid. Humans are a bit thick, but they clearly can be aware of bonds. He’s talked to me about it – relationships with other humans don’t feel right… and while vampires felt better, they aren’t ‘it’ either. He just doesn’t realize that we’re what he’s looking for. Now he’s going out and looking for it himself, and it’s our fault. We should’ve told him from the beginning.”

There was a pause.

“Should we tell him now?” Gavin said hesitantly. None of the five vampires moved, too still to be human, as they thought over their answers.

“Let’s see if he’s alright first,” Jack said slowly, looking nervous. “Then we’ll go from there.”

Geoff nodded in agreement. There was quiet murmuring in the bedroom and Geoff, interest peaked, opened the door as noiselessly as possible.

Ryan was sitting in the middle of the bed, Michael dragged into his lap and propped up in between Ryan’s legs. His bare back was resting against the blond’s chest, his shirtless torso smooth and hairless, but Geoff’s instincts screamed at him that it wasn’t enough. The pants had to go, too. Not only because his eyes craved to see more, but because that foul, foreign stench was coating the simple pair of jeans as well.

Gavin giggled. “Is he sleeping?”

In the dim light, it was hard to tell. Michael’s head was bowed as Ryan’s firm, nimble fingers felt around his neck, combing through his overgrown curls, and softly stroked at the skin.

“Yeah,” they heard Michael breathe, voice thick with sleep.

Geoff approached carefully, trying to remind himself that Michael only saw them as friends as he laid his hands on Michael’s bare shoulders. The skin was warm to the touch.

“How do you feel?” Geoff asked softly.

“Not very good,” Michael whispered.

Geoff frowned, his stomach tightening. “Why?” he said, forcing the emotion from his tone. Michael didn’t need compassion. In Geoff’s opinion, he needed a firm ass-whooping. But not right now, so he settled for running his hands through Michael’s hair, the curls slightly damp with sweat.

“He was an asshole,” Michael sighed, shifting in discomfort. Despite his eyes being tightly closed, his face displayed pain.

An irrational fire began burning in the pit of Geoff’s stomach, anger clenching his jaw. His tone, however, was neutral. “Who was an asshole?”

Michael sighed again. “Two days,” he muttered sleepily.

Geoff shook his head at Ryan’s questioning glance. He didn’t know either. Trying a different route, he said, “Does anywhere… specific hurt, Michael?”

“My ass,” Michael frowned, crinkling his nose. After a thoughtful pause, he added, “My arm.”

Ryan and Geoff shared a look. Heart feeling as if the muscle had frozen over in his chest, Geoff gently picked up Michael’s left arm, but there was no sight of abnormalities on the pale, freckled skin. As he closely inspected the flesh, he noticed a colorful array of bruises that disappeared down his waistline. Geoff’s vision almost went red.

“Geoff,” Ryan whispered. Geoff looked up at the sharp inhale, eyes following Ryan’s horrified gaze down to where the blond’s hands were loosely cradling Michael’s right arm. Even in the dark light, Geoff’s sharp eyes could catch the slight swelling around the redhead’s wrist. But Ryan’s stare was further down, near his elbow, and his time Geoff’s vision did go red.

It was hard to make out; Michael’s tattoo obscured the colors and made it look as if the skin art was bleeding ink down his arm. But a few inches to the side of the tattoo, there was a very distinct bite mark, the skin healing over two puncture wounds with a black, thick scar tissue. Michael’s body was rejecting the venom, but it was trapped under the skin still. The bastard had healed up the two wounds to seal it in, and now a nice infection was festering.

“It’s no use draining it,” Ryan said in a gentle voice, tilting Michael’s lolling head towards the ceiling. Holding two fingers to Michael’s pulse point before moving to feel his forehead, he said, “The infection has already set in.”

Geoff could do nothing but stare dumbly at the blond. He heard the words. He understood the words.

He refused to believe the words.

“Geoff,” Ryan said in a low voice. Blue, icy eyes pierced into the side of Geoff’s face as he looked down at Michael, gazing half-lidded at the redhead’s relaxed face. He was cute when he slept. Brown eyes hazily rolled around the room unseeingly, his cupid bow lips parted slightly. He was beginning to sweat, the infection in his arm heating his body with a fever.

“I can’t do it, Ryan,” Geoff said sadly, voice barely audible. He could hear the three other men in the room shifting around behind him and he closed his eyes tightly at the smell of fear permeating off of them.

“You’re gonna have to, and soon. The fucker injected him a few times,” Ryan swallowed, adjusting Michael in his grip.

“It’s not fair… He doesn’t even know, Ryan,” Geoff breathed, brushing a single red curl out of Michael’s eyes.

“He will after this,” Gavin said. Geoff glared at him over his shoulder, but all he was met with was Gavin’s frightened gaze, and he couldn’t be mad at that. Gavin was just as scared as Geoff was. Difference was, the Brit wasn’t in charge of Michael quite like Geoff was. Geoff was the leader. The alpha. It was his duty to take care of all of these fuckers, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t a full-time job.

“Geoff, you have to,” Ryan whispered, gently breaking Geoff out of his internal monologue.

Geoff shook his head silently, distressed at the very idea of biting Michael without the redhead’s consent. However far in the future it may be, he wanted Michael’s first time with them to be slow and comfortable, hot and steamy – everything he’d ever fantasized in the short months he’d known the redhead.

Not in a rush to rid his body of a foreign poison, a reminder of being taken advantage of. Not to wash away the slate, to clean his body of a stranger’s venom that shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. It was selfish, but Geoff was angry that some fucking stranger from a bar got to taste his blood slave first. Put his grimy hands all over Michael. Left bruises down his waist, a few hickies on his neck.

That someone had left their mark, tainted and impure and completely, utterly wrong on Michael’s body.

Geoff couldn’t even breathe through his anger until a soft hand was placed on his shoulder, making the tattooed man jump and look up at Jack; the man’s eyes were glittering with something Geoff always had trouble naming; something akin to love and I trust you that always managed to make Geoff’s head spin.

“I can’t do this to him,” Geoff said, shaking his head. “What if – what if he leaves?”

“He won’t leave,” Jack said firmly. Ray nodded from behind him.

“He likes us too much to leave,” Gavin said feebly, giving a weak smile.

Geoff looked back to Michael, who didn’t seem to be tuned into the conversation at all. A little part of Geoff hoped he was, if only subconsciously. Perhaps then it would not be so hard to explain afterwards. He caught Ryan’s worried eyes as the blond stared at him.

“Geoff,” Ryan said, a bit desperately.

“Ryan –”

“You literally don’t have a choice,” Ryan interrupted, shaking his head. “Unless you want him to die. Human hospitals wouldn’t know how to treat this.”

“Die?” Geoff parroted. His heart skipped an unpleasant beat.

At Ryan’s nod, well… wasn’t Geoff’s choice already made for him?

“When should I do it?” Geoff said, rolling his eyes slightly at the exaggerated sigh of relief that Ryan released, the blond obviously pleased that Geoff was now understanding and onboard.

“Well, right now would be ideal,” he answered, tilting Michael’s head back once more when it started to loll downwards. Geoff swallowed, eyes locking onto the patch of skin that he’d already known would be the most optimal biting spot. His mouth was suddenly filled with saliva, literally drooling at the mention of finally getting his teeth into the redhead’s neck.

“I didn’t want it like this,” he said stubbornly, the insides of his eyes beginning to sting as he closed them. He was such a cry-baby – sniveling over frustration of not getting his own way. He reminded himself that he was literally saving Michael’s life. There was no alternative.

“I know,” Jack soothed, stroking the side of his face. Geoff leaned into the touch, muscles loosening at the comfort his boyfriend provided.

An idea sprang to mind, causing Geoff’s eyes to pop open. “It’s just my venom that will work, isn’t it? I don’t actually have to feed, right?”

Ryan smiled at the notion and shook his head. “Nope. Just the venom will do. But only yours – ours wouldn’t be strong enough to drive out the infection along with the foreign venom.”

Geoff nodded. “So… right now?”

“Well, we can wait a few minutes,” Ryan said nervously. “Lay him down, get you both comfortable. He was exhausted when Jack and Ray went to get him and now he’s fast asleep, so I doubt he’ll even wake up during it. Er – you’re not gonna – you know –”

“Don’t be gross, Ryan,” Geoff teased, gently easing himself away from the two and standing at the edge of the bed.

“Ryan made it creepy,” Gavin said, snickering.

“Big surprise,” Ray laughed quietly.

Ryan harrumphed in amusement as he shifted to lay Michael back on the streets, making a noise Geoff didn’t know he could make when the redhead’s hand shot out to clutch at his shirt, tugging the blond down so he was forced to lay his chest on Michael’s head. It looked supremely uncomfortable, but Michael hummed in content and caused every brain in the room to short circuit when he nuzzled Ryan’s torso, inhaling slowly as if savoring the scent.

Ryan licked his lips as he gently pried Michael’s fingers off of him, wincing at the pained whimper the other made. He looked at the others. “It’s just his body reacting to his mates’ scent.”

Geoff could watch as Gavin’s eyes lit up, the Brit grinning and stepping closer to Michael. He almost giggled at the grabby-hands motion Michael was making and leaned far enough down for the redhead to reach out and touch him, weak fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt and managing to tug slightly.

Ryan slapped him upside the head. “Stop teasing him, Gavin.”

“Not teasing at all,” Gavin said before worming his way under the sheets with Michael, tucking the older man against his body and sighing in comfort. Catching the looks the others were giving him, he smirked and said, “Jealous?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Geoff, you can go get ready now. If you want to change out of your clothes that would probably be a good idea. If you’re not going to be drinking the blood, it’s gonna have to go somewhere.”

Geoff nodded, but lingered by the door to watch as his lovers squabbled over whether or not it was morally correct of them to take advantage of this time with their unknowing mate. Gavin and Jack seemed to have no issue with it, snuggling close to the redhead and soaking up the warmth given off by Michael’s overheated body. Ray and Ryan tsked and shook their heads, obviously jealous but unwilling to steal cuddling from their sick member.

Feeling as if his stomach was tying itself in knots, Geoff slipped from the room.

His palms were cold as he poured a glass of whiskey. It was purely to calm his nerves, but he forced himself to stop after one glass. He couldn’t imagine a scenario worse than him drunkenly draining Michael completely of blood, killing the redhead in a haze of thirst.

Shivering from discomfort at the thought, Geoff put the empty glass in the sink with shaking hands. This weekend was really doing a number on him. Friday evening, he’d gotten into a small argument with Gavin over whether or not it was time to confront the issue. Having been left with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, Geoff now realized that the gut feeling hadn’t been a result of his fight with Gav, but rather a trauma happening to his other mate. He hadn’t been able to contact Ryan or Michael for almost twenty-four hours on Saturday, and then he’d fought with Ray on the phone while Jack was driving Michael home.

It had not been a fun weekend.

His Sunday, in fact, was continuing to grow even worse.

The sharp covers of his canines were beginning to extend already, just the thought of drinking from his blood slave sending pleasant goosebumps down the back of his arms. He could only imagine the taste – a human, a real, live human. The blood of vampires was inedible to other vamps, but Geoff knew that his blood would be just as wholesome and refreshing to Michael as Michael’s was to him.

The different between him drinking Michael’s blood and Michael drinking his, however, was bleak. Michael didn’t have fangs and unnatural ire to his muscles. He wasn’t as strong as them, or as fast. His hunger wasn’t as severe, just more frequent.

The difference was this: Geoff was a prey animal. Michael was not.

And Geoff was about to go chew on his neck while the redhead was at his most vulnerable.

The scent of toxin in Michael’s bloodstream was overpoweringly strong as Geoff made his way back towards the bedroom. He’d very quickly changed into the rattiest tee shirt and jeans he could find, forgoing tennis shoes. Ryan had carried in a staggering amount of towels, covering the bed with some of them and swaddling Michael in the rest.

Closing the door behind him, Geoff swallowed heavily. The scent wasn’t particularly bad, but it was so wrong that it made his stomach twist and curl. There was a sickening edge to the smell that was permeating off of the redhead, one that certainly didn’t belong. It overpowered the boys’ original scent marker – the small signal to other vampires that this human was spoken for.

Geoff wasn’t surprised his scent mark had been violated. It was just that – a pheromone that he’d subtly tainted Michael’s original smell with. It wasn’t noticeable to humans, but both Burnie and Gus had separately pulled him aside to ask why the hell the five men’s scent mark was placed on Michael.

Now, not a single one of them was recognizable through the stench of this fucking stranger.

Geoff’s fists tightened.

“Okay,” he ground out, startling the others in the room, except for Ryan, who was sitting next to Michael’s head with the redhead’s arm in his lap. He was inspecting the bite curiously, poking and prodding at the blackened flesh.

Gavin, Jack, and Ray had moved away from the bed, standing off to the side with varying expressions of anxiety. Geoff could feel the combined weight of their worry and agitation, and through the gap between bodies, he could see Gavin and Ray holding hands, while Jack’s was firmly clasped in Ray’s tight grip.

“Alright, Geoff,” Ryan said, patting the spot on the other side of Michael’s head. “It shouldn’t take too long.”

Geoff wordlessly settled on the bed, unable to keep his eyes from darting down at watching Ryan’s nimble fingers resting against Michael’s pale skin. A gaunt, sunken look was already beginning to affect the redhead’s face, the circles around his eyes looking bruised and hollow. Geoff’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. Almost as if he was able to hear the stutter, Michael opened his eyes. His brown orbs were instantly on Geoff.

“H – hospital,” Michael croaked, the words airy and disjointed. “Please take me to a hospital, I think – I think I’m dying.”

Geoff stared at him, shocked, while the others in the room tensed. “No, no,” Geoff said softly. He patted Michael’s hair in a comforting gesture, careful to keep it similar to a gesture that would be seen among two friends. His voice was hoarse as he said, “You aren’t dying. We’re fixing you. Right now. It may be a little… uncomfortable.”

Michael’s eyelids fluttered. “My arm hurts,” he said quietly.

“I know, we’re going to fix it,” Geoff reaffirmed, continuing to play with the man’s hair. Michael’s brow furrowed, but his eyes fell closed not moments later. His muscles went lax and Geoff knew he’d once more fallen into a deep, deep sleep. Looking up at Ryan, he shakily asked, “How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t think he’ll wake up during it, so don’t look so damned panicked,” Ryan told him sternly. He looked thoughtful, even with a pale face and worried eyes. “Using his neck is a good idea. The carotid artery will be the fastest entry point. Him lying horizontal should work, so you can just… you know…”

Ryan gestured to Geoff as if to get on with it. Wiping sweaty palms on the fabric of his jeans, Geoff scooted closer until he was able to fully pull Michael’s paralyzed body into his lap, the redhead’s shoulders resting comfortably on his thighs. He pillowed the head of red curls in the crook of his elbow, grimacing at how chilled Michael’s skin was. He seemed to have very quickly bypassed the fever stage and plunged into cold and clammy category. Licking his lips, Geoff glanced around the room, meeting the wide eyes of his four other mates, and leaned down.

His lips brushed the skin of Michael’s neck, the light flutter of the rapid heartbeat under his breath an aphrodisiac. It was intoxicating to be this close, just within range.

But he couldn’t forget that Michael was nearly comatose in his arms. That he didn’t have consent to do those.

And so it was with a clear head that Geoff allowed his fangs to fully extend and pierce the milky flesh. He hinged his jaw and let it hung open, pointedly leaning away so that none of the blood would touch his taste buds. His venom released like a bull waiting at the gate, excitedly washing through Michael’s bloodstream and cleansing it of the stranger’s poison. The sensitive covering of his fangs could feel the pace of Michael’s heart speed up with the sudden introduction of a foreign – but much desired – substance. Michael himself was almost completely unconscious in his arms, eyes closed and breathing shallow. His chest, wrapped in towels, was rising and falling too quickly to be normal.

Geoff’s fingers tightened around the nape of the man’s neck as he felt his fangs lock into place, his body involuntarily preparing for a feeding. His erogenous zones became sensitive, his own breathing speeding up. A powerful wave of heat abruptly rolled off Michael’s body, causing Geoff’s pupils to blow out as the scent of arousal seeped from the redhead’s pores.

Though he honestly shouldn’t have been, Geoff was caught off guard when Michael’s eyes suddenly flew open.

He definitely didn’t except the fist to come flying towards his face.

---

Michael didn’t consider himself to be a stranger to pain.

There were a lot moments in his life where he had to confront the unpleasant sensation. In the sixth grade or so, he broke his arm wrestling with his brothers on the stairs. That had brought him to his knees, crying out to his mom for help. It wasn’t too frequent, but he also had chest pain every once and a while, which could easily incapacitate him for days. He tried to strong-arm his way through it, and normally it worked.

But this was a new experience, even for him.

With sudden, renewed energy, he wildly swung his arm at whatever was latched onto his neck. He recognized the scent as Geoff’s, the faint smell of cologne and an unnamable musk, but nothing registered in his mind aside from the screaming agony in his right arm. The inside of his forearm seemed to have been lit on fire, the skin feeling as if it was eating itself alive. His breath caught on a scream, adrenaline heavy and thick in his veins. In blinding, panic, he swung at what he thought the source was.

Before he could make contact with the figure gripping the back of his neck like a vice, his arm was caught in a strong grip and pinned back to the bed. His legs, though barely twitching despite his frantic orders, were similarly held down, but he could feel their hesitation when Michael let out a pitiful cry of pain at the sudden lance of agony through his wrist. A memory sparked in his mind, and he remembered being held to a bed, arm twisted behind his back as he was mercilessly pounded into the mattress in a haze of animalistic lust.

In his panic, Michael hadn’t even noticed that there was a slight stinging in his neck until Geoff suddenly reared back. Something warm and runny traced ticklish paths down Michael’s neck and chest.

In a way, Michael had still held onto a distant hope that it wasn’t Geoff who was feeding from him, but there was no denying it was the tattooed man now that he was looking down on Michael with nothing short of a horrified expression.

With the arm awkwardly trapped between him and Geoff’s chest, Michael pushed weakly at him, heart pounding in his ears. His head swam with confusion and fear, the latter only increasing when Geoff refused to release him. He could hear himself making tiny, choked noises in between gasps.

“Michael – Michael, hold still while I seal it up –” Geoff stammered as Michael continued to struggle weakly in his arms.

“Get off,” Michael croaked hoarsely, feeling light-headed. When Geoff’s hands still remained tight around his shoulders, Michael whimpered a fearful, “Geoff, let go!”

At the sound of his name, Geoff immediately slackened his grip. The hand around his wrist was causing a searing pain to rip up his arm with every movement, even as his back hit the bed again. He rolled to the side and clutched at the hand around it, crying out something pathetic in an attempt to make whoever it was let go. It did – they pulled away as if Michael’s touch had stung them.

Something warm and moist was spreading beneath his neck, coating his skin with sticky residue. Not wanting to think about what it was, Michael simply settled for laying half-curled into the fetal position and sorely clutching at his injured arm. The burn in his forearm began to subside until it vanished completely. He couldn’t see it from where he was laying, the side of his face pressing into the sheets below him.

It was deathly quiet.

“Michael?” Gavin called softly. Michael couldn’t tell where he was in the room, but he was close.

Realizing his breathing was loud and noisy in the room, Michael made a conscious effort to calm down. He didn’t answer Gavin’s pleading tone, still very confused and frightened.

He didn’t, however, feel unsafe.

There was a hand hovering just over the skin of his shoulder. “Michael, you’re bleeding. Let me at least seal it.”

“‘M not bleeding,” Michael finally mumbled, closing his eyes. His blood felt too hot in his veins, and in the absence of adrenaline, a new thrill was beginning to register. He discreetly folded his legs to hide his erection.

“Just let Geoff fix it,” Ryan’s deep bass said soothingly.

“I’m not bleeding,” Michael articulated, shakily raising his injured wrist. There was no sign of blood there, only swelling in his wrist. Michael frowned, a buzzing in his mind. There’d been something else, hadn’t there?

There was a pause. “From your neck, Michael,” Geoff said in a strangled voice. He reached forward, cautiously as if not to alarm the redhead, and gently pressed two fingers to the side of Michael’s neck. True to his word, when Geoff pulled back his hand, it was coated in a thin layer of scarlet liquid.

Michael stared at it with half-lidded eyes, exhaustion sweeping over him. It’d returned from earlier, but he realized dimly that he no longer felt as if his insides were wilting. Earlier, he’d been fairly sure that he was dying and had asked to be taken to the hospital, but now all he requested was a good nap.

Geoff seemed unsatisfied by his lack of response. He loudly sniffed at the air and seemed to come to a decision. No longer respecting Michael’s personal space, Geoff slid his hands under the redhead’s body and gently rearranged him to be splayed out on his back. Michael’s head lolled to the side, a dull ache spreading up the right side of his neck. His breathing had slowed to a healthier pace and he was almost asleep by the time Geoff had settled him down.

“I think he fell back asleep,” came a low whisper. It took Michael’s sluggish brain a while to realize it was Ray. He felt a surge of warmth at the sound of one of his best friends.

“What happened?” another voice demanded quietly. Jack. The mental echo of the bearded man’s name sent another wave of warmth rushing through the redhead’s heart. Jack, Jack.

“I think it just startled him at first,” Geoff said calmly. A warm hand rest on Michael’s jaw and gently pushed his head up to bare his throat. “And I think his wrist is sprained, so don’t touch it, Gav.”

There was a sound of agreement before it fell quiet once more. Michael got the uncomfortable feeling they were looking at him. His worry, however, flew out the window in favor of a larger one when he felt something slick and heated brushed the sore skin of his neck.

The pain receded until his neck was simply tingling pleasantly. The feeling flooded directly to his head before billowing out to his entire body. His breathing slowed even further, muscles relaxing into limp masses until he was completely boneless against the mattress. The sound of his deep, restful exhales was the only noise to break the thick silence.

Despite Michael’s sudden exhaustion, however, he remained awake.

“Was that good enough?” Geoff whispered nervously a few moments later. There was a faint click that Michael knew by heart. It was a sound he heard many times in the office – the sudden retraction of Geoff’s fangs.

“Look for yourself,” Ryan said softly, a smile clear in the barely audible words. A weight dipped on the bed next to Michael’s hip, gently hands lifting his arm from the bed. Whoever it was, they were careful to support his wrist.

“It’s cleared up,” Geoff said in an awe-struck voice.

Ryan chuckled quietly. “Why are you surprised? Alpha venom is potent as hell.”

“Yeah, but that’s just amazing,” Ray hummed. Another weight sat on the bed, this one closer than the last. Michael could feel a knee brushing against the exposed skin of his waist. He was fairly sure it was Ray. “It was fast, too.”

“Faster than I thought,” Ryan admitted. “Faster than it normally is. Sometimes in hospitals, they have to repeatedly inject the right venom into the human.”

There was a pause before Geoff made a sound of disgust. “This way was a lot easier.”

There was a tsk of mutual agreement.

“I’m going to draw blood,” Ryan announced after a peaceful lull in the conversation. “Anyone who can’t handle themselves will wait outside the door.”

It didn’t sound like anyone moved.

Michael could hear them settling into spots around the room, casually hunkering down in one bedroom. From how close their voices sounded, Michael was fairly sure that Ryan, Geoff, and Ray were sitting on the bed, while Jack and Gavin perched themselves some other place in the room. Gavin was surprisingly quiet, almost worryingly so. Michael almost said something, but bit his tongue for fear of ruining the illusion that he was asleep.

The crinkle of plastic was Michael’s only warning before a cold, wet piece of cloth was swiped on the crook of his good arm. He couldn’t have flinched if he’d tried, his muscles far too lethargic, but it made him mentally jolt for a moment. He wondered if they still thought he was sleeping as Ryan worked methodically next to him to prepare sticking him.

Michael wasn’t horribly afraid of needles. He felt Ryan’s finger pull the skin slightly taut before sticking the needle in with barely a prick. Someone in the room took a sharp inhale of breath, but that was the only interruption on the otherwise completely silent drawing of blood.

Ryan cleared his throat in between taking samples. “Did you, ah… taste any?” he asked lightly as the third vial was being filled.

A hand rested on Michael’s thigh as Geoff spoke. “No,” he said proudly. “Not on my fangs and when I sealed him up, my venom blocked it. Not one drop.”

Michael internally frowned and couldn’t help but feel that Ryan relaxed at that. It couldn’t have been that big of a deal, to accidentally drink from someone. He was slightly offended that they were so damned worried about accidentally tasting him. Who the hell knows, maybe he tasted good!

“Alright, done,” Ryan announced a few moments later. Glass clinked together as he gathered whatever equipment he’d brought with him. Michael felt him rise from the bed, and Geoff’s weight followed with.

“I’ll take this to my guy,” Ryan said mysteriously. “Let him sleep in here. It doesn’t really matter.”

Gavin didn’t seem to like that idea. “But –”

“He won’t know,” Ryan persisted, and Michael had to frown at that.

Gavin spent a long moment of deliberation before huffing out a rather sour puff of air. “Fine,” he grumbled.

The bedroom door opened and Michael heard them pile out from the room. There was a murmur of voices right in the doorway, unintelligible to Michael, but then the door closed. He breathed out a sigh of relief and almost opened his eyes, but the sudden sensation of someone stroking his forehead almost made him jump out of his skin.

“Stupid idiot,” Gavin’s voice sighed. “You caused a fight between almost all of us, and you weren’t even there.”

Michael’s stomach clenched. Oh, great.

“You look a lot less angry when you sleep,” Gavin commented. Michael’s heart hammered in his chest at the close contact. Gavin had to be only mere inches away, and the feel of his hands running through Michael’s hair was rapidly becoming addicting. “Bloody cute idiot. Do that again, and we’ll suck you dry.”

Michael nearly smiled. That was one of Gav and Geoff’s favorite threats. He knew they’d never touch him. They wouldn’t even roughhouse with him, much less allow their fangs anywhere near his skin.

“You scared us,” Gavin whispered, and that voice was the only sound in the room. Michael had trouble thinking straight with the feel of Gavin’s nails slightly scratching his scalp. “You’re still scaring us, but you’ll be okay now. Geoff’s venom fixed you up. A mate isn’t supposed to go sleeping around, much less getting bitten, by other vampires, but your alpha mate’s venom will reverse anything bad that could’ve developed.”

Michael’s heart skipped a beat. Wait, what?

Gavin sighed heavily, palm flush against the redhead’s skull. Michael wasn’t sure if he imagined the feel of a soft pair of lips pressing against his forehead.

“Night, love.”

---

While Geoff also needed sleep, vampires only required an hour or so per night to function properly. He was out of the loop in terms of human sleeping patterns after spending so long reserving himself for his blood slave and when Michael didn’t wake up for eight hours, he grew worried.

Jack told him it was normal, so the tattooed man refrained from bursting into the room and vigorously shaking the redhead awake like he wanted to. Instead, he sat on the couch with Gavin in his lap as they played GTA V and planned a Things To Do. It wasn’t too exciting, but thinking of ways around the HeliCarrier glitch took his mind off of the bigger problem at hand.

Jack was reclined on the larger sofa with a book in his hand and Ray was sitting tangled up in his legs, using Jack’s left one as a backrest and the right one to prop up his knees. He was furiously tapping at the buttons of a 3DS and Jack was flipping pages every minute or so, but Geoff got the feeling that they had their mind on other things.

Ryan pulled into the driveway one in the afternoon. Michael had been asleep for an entire eight hours, but just as Geoff was about to wake him up, Ryan opened the front door with a tired, relieved smile.

“Nothing to worry about,” he announced. “No STDs, no infections. Blood work all came back negative.”

“How’d you get it so fast?” Gavin questioned, standing up from the couch.

“I have my ways,” Ryan said mysteriously. He glanced at the bedroom door and frowned. “Still not up? What time is it?”

“It’s one,” Geoff answered sullenly.

Ryan hummed but didn’t look particularly worried. “It’s alright,” he assured Geoff, carefully watching the other. Geoff almost rolled his eyes at the knowing look in the blue eyes. “Humans can sleep for… freakishly long amounts of time.”

“Eight hours,” Gavin muttered, sneering. “That’s ridiculous. What a stupid way to evolve. Sleep is completely useless.”

“He’s been through a pretty big ordeal, Gavin,” Jack pointed out.

Gavin’s eyes darkened. “An ordeal he brought on himself.”

Ray frowned and snapped closed his DS. Glaring at Ray lightly, he said, “We’ve already talked about this.”

“You talked about it.”

“Ugh. I’m not arguing with you about this, Gav.”

“Yeah, because you know I’m at least partially right.”

Ray rolled his eyes but wisely pursued the topic no further. His gaze darted to the door before looking at Geoff with bright eyes. “He’s awak -”

The bedroom door opened in the middle of Ray’s sentence, the Puerto Rican immediately going silent. There was a moment of shock where Michael looked at them and they looked at Michael, no one saying a word or moving an inch.

Michael was significantly better since he’d first arrived with Jack and Ray. He no longer looked two inches from death, but his hair was a rat’s nest and there was dried blood caking the side of his neck. Geoff could feel the others’ lust kick up a few notches and realized that in all the chaos, no one had thought to feed lately.

Sucking in a harsh breath, Geoff said, “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

The spell was broken. Everyone relaxed slightly with the casual tone of Geoff’s overused phrase.

“What time is it?” Michael asked grumpily, rubbing his eye. His voice was hoarse as hell. “And where is my shirt?”

Geoff could see Ray bit his lip at the latter question. “It’s one in the afternoon and you didn’t come here in your shirt,” Geoff said in a tight voice.

“I only slept a few hours?” Michael asked confusedly. He looked slightly lost as he glanced down at his naked torso. “And – and I know, I remember. Just – gimme a shirt. Can I borrow a shirt?”

As Geoff swallowed at the slightly panicked tone and felt like hitting himself on the head for not thinking of dressing Michael properly. He had no idea what had happened the night before but Michael was probably feeling slightly violated. The bruises on his hips were prominent as he thanked Ryan for the spare he was handed, pulling the plain blue tee over his head with vigor. Smoothing down the front, Michael suddenly looked a lot smaller in Ryan’s clothes.

“Do you want to change pants, too?” Gavin suggested after an awkward pause.

Michael averted his gaze. “No, I – I can do that at my house,” he answered, scratching his nose.

“How do you feel?” Jack ventured.

Michael didn’t look up. “Better,” he said tonelessly. “Tired, though.”

“You slept around eight hours,” Geoff said gently.

Michael’s eyebrows furrowed. “Oh…”

There was another awkward pause.

“Th – thanks,” Michael said in a voice not much louder than a whisper. He seemed surprisingly nervous as he shifted this weight back and forth between his legs. “I’m gonna go home and change. It’s… it’s Monday?”

“Sunday,” Jack corrected gently.

“Right,” Michael said, shaking his head. “Sunday. Good, then I didn’t miss work. Okay, well, uh… thanks. See you at work tomorrow, I guess.”

Gavin stammered out a few nonsensical syllables as Michael started edging towards the front door before finally managing, “No! No, no, you look like a horror movie prop. At least stay to clean up in the bathroom.”

Michael stopped and nodded slowly, absently agreeing. He looked horribly lost as he hesitated in the entrance hall. The blood coating his neck only added to the distressing image.

After sharing a small conversation only in glances with Ray, Geoff inched forward with his hands held out in a placating gesture. Michael didn’t react and allowed Geoff to lightly grip his elbow.

“The bathroom is this way,” Geoff said, gently directing the redhead back inside the main bedroom and into the master bath. Flicking on the light, both men winced at the bright glare. However, Geoff was more so disturbed by the sudden exposure of even more brutal love bites and bruises, the florescent light throwing the injuries into high definition. With Geoff’s heightened eyesight, it was in far too much detail.

He forced his eyes from the battered skin and instead focused on unraveling the washcloth from the mounted hook. After running the water until it was warm, Geoff carefully dipped a corner into it and glanced at Michael.

The redhead seemed out of it still, but he was looking at least a little sharper. The fog over his glassy eyes was clearing and he took to apprehensively watching Geoff wet the cloth. He didn’t question having Geoff help him, which Geoff found odd.

“Wanna sit?” Geoff suggested, pointing at the toilet.

Michael shook his head. Visibly bracing himself, he tilted his head gingerly to the side, baring his throat to Geoff. Slightly amazed that Michael would give forth such a strong display of trust, the tattooed man slowly began to wipe away the smears of blood. He felt Michael wince slightly as he stroked over the spot where Geoff had bit into him.

Geoff’s eyes widened at the pretty sight that greeted him under all that blood. Two penny-sized pearly ovals had claimed the skin directly over his carotid artery. They were blindingly white and extremely noticeable, even against skin as pale as Michael’s. Geoff flushed and ran the towel over the spot a few more times. He was oddly aroused and satisfied at the sight of his personal mark on his own human mate. Also faintly worried; when Michael was back to normal, Geoff was going to get his ass beat.

He hurried to finish up the redhead’s neck. Michael was staring mindlessly into space and luckily didn’t catch his reflection in the mirror.

When the skin was finally blemish-free, Geoff washed the cloth under the running water. Before Michael could react, Geoff steered him out of the small room, keeping an eye on the bite marks. His fangs tingled.

“And your wrist?” Geoff asked, eyeballing the swollen appendage.

Michael frowned and seemed confused. “It’s, uh… sore. I – I don’t remember hurting it?” He asked the question as if Geoff would know.

“What do you remember?” Geoff asked. Michael seemed to quickly be returning from his stunned state, and Geoff knew he was feeling better when Michael characteristically furrowed his brow in thought.

“I… I remember leaving work and stuff Friday night,” he edged. Geoff’s eyes could’ve rolled across state lines. “But anytime after, uh…” Michael’s face went bright red. “I don’t remember. I – thanks and all, Geoff, but I gotta go home. I just want to sleep.”

“You’ve slept for eight hours already,” Geoff pointed out. “And you don’t need to lie – we already know you went home with someone.” He refrained from mentioning the vampire bar after a second of hesitation, deciding that it was a conversation they needed to have a different time.

Michael side-eyed him, and even with his dead-tired gaze and crimson colored cheeks, he was able to sarcastically ask, “Wow, how could you possibly tell?”

“My vampire senses,” Geoff half-lied. While he hadn’t telepathically known Michael had been in distress, a dreadful gut-feeling had plagued him the entire weekend. The scent of another vampire had slammed into him like a brick when he’d opened the car door yesterday, confirming his worst fear, but in the back of his mind, there was a part of his brain that wasn’t shocked or angry.

Ray was right. Michael knew there was something missing in his life, and while he couldn’t see what it was, he was certainly the type of man to go out and look for it. Geoff should’ve known that.

Michael’s eyes lit up slightly and Geoff internally cringed. He’d just opened himself up to the topic of his vampire abilities, something Michael held an insatiable curiosity for. They – meaning Geoff, Gavin, Ray, Ryan, and Jack – often tried to dissuade the redhead from asking such questions under the guise of it being ‘too personal’. Geoff was the only one of the five to willingly, albeit vaguely, answer his questions.

“Are you being sarcastic?” Michael asked, a familiar excitement causing his voice pitch to rise.

Geoff couldn’t hide a smirk. “A little,” he allowed. He knew that normally he wouldn’t have divulged that particular piece of vampire trivia, but it was good to see Michael light up. In an attempt to goad him further, Geoff continued, “I didn’t actually know, but it’s like a sixth sense.”

“You have a sixth sense that tells you when someone’s had sex?” Michael asked, raising an eyebrow.

Only when it’s my mate having sex with someone other than me. “Certain people.”

Michael’s face twisted into an expression of disgust. “And I’m included in that? Why?”

Geoff swallowed. This was edging extremely close to a topic he wasn’t ready to discuss. “Not sure,” he lied. “Probably because I spend so much time around you. You’re one of the only humans I see on a daily basis.”

“Charming,” Michael rolled his eyes. “Lucky me.”

Geoff glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Michael was smiling.

“Are you feeling better?” Geoff asked.

Michael shifted back an unperceivable few millimeters, but Geoff caught it. The redhead’s eyes hardened with the change of topic and his smile disappeared.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing. “My neck is sore…?”

Geoff stared at him. It was definitely a question.

“I… I don’t remember getting hurt there,” Michael continued pointedly. Geoff bit his lip, refusing to hit that distinct line of conversation just yet. Michael needed time to relax and let his body heal itself, with Geoff’s venom as an aid.

“Bad venom will do that,” he said neutrally instead, shutting Michael down. After he said the words, he realized that Michael might remember Geoff biting him. He averted his eyes from the redhead, slightly worried that he’d just inadvertently rejected Michael.

Regardless, he still wasn’t expecting Michael to go stiff, eyes closing off. His body language changed to a slightly more aggressive stance, muscles tensing. The cords of his shoulders tightened as he turned away from Geoff with a curt nod, jaw set.

“Right,” he said coolly. “Bad venom will do that.”

Geoff was wordless with confusion and alarm.

“Thanks and all,” Michael said indifferently. Geoff stared at him in surprise, the acidic undertone of the words sounding odd in Michael’s voice.

“Michael –” Geoff started, but Michael was already walking from the room. Geoff frowned and hurried after him. He reached out a hand to catch Michael’s shoulder, but after a moment of hesitation, he let his arm drop back to his side.

All pairs of eyes landed on them when they entered the living room. They glanced at Michael before staring at Geoff, and he couldn’t help but feel there was something accusatory in their gaze.

“I’ll see you all on Monday,” he said coldly before walking to the front door. Geoff made a noise of dismay and followed after him once more.

“Michael –” he tried again in a much more pleading voice.

Michael turned to him with frigid eyes. Something unidentifiable ghosted through the russet orbs, but it was gone in seconds, and Michael was left staring carelessly at him. The words died on Geoff’s tongue.

“Thanks, Geoff.” Michael said with finality. He opened the door and glanced at the others, who were in the process of rising. “See you at work.”

The bang of the door slamming shut echoed through the house. Geoff didn’t move, staring at the oak wood of the door in shock.

“What are you doing?” Ryan demanded, turning Geoff around by a firm hand on his shoulder. “Where is he going?”

Geoff frowned. “Home, I’m guessing.”

“How is he going to get there?” Ryan asked slowly.

“I don’t know,” Geoff said honestly. His heart stung by Michael’s abrupt dismissal and he couldn’t stop the untruthful words from spilling out: “I don’t care.”

Ryan reeled from him, stepping back as if afraid. Geoff pushed passed him and, ignoring the rest of the men in the room, calmly walked to the guest bedroom and closed the door.

And immediately shred the bed to pieces in rage.

---

Michael was wearing his long-eared banjo beanie and a strong blush when they came into work the next morning. The long ears had been strategically placed to rest around his neck. The sight almost made Geoff laugh. He was far too sullen to even crack a smile, however, so after appreciating the image for a few brief seconds, he wordlessly sat down at his desk.

He wasn’t quite man-enough to formally apologize just yet. As the others lingered slightly in the doorway, Geoff found himself locked into an intense round of the quiet game between him and Michael – one that he couldn’t help but feel he’d already lost.

Coming into the room last, Gavin chucked his stuff down with a huff. He stared at Michael for a long moment before throwing any pretenses out the window.

“How the hell did you get home last night?” he asked in a normal, if not slightly agitated, tone.

Michael barely glanced at him. “Bus.” He answered shortly.

“How did you find a bus?” Gavin asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Bus stop.”

“Oh. Well, how’d you find that?”

“Looked for it.”

Gavin pursed his lips at curt replies. Trying one last time, he politely asked, “How’s your wrist?”

Michael hesitated to answer that one. “Fine,” he muttered, lowering his hand so that it was hidden under his desk. Gavin waited in silence and Michael resentfully continued, “… sprained.”

“You went to the doctor?” Jack asked, surprised.

Michael shook his head, still staring at his computer screen. “I know what a sprain feels like.”

Geoff frowned but bit his tongue against commenting.

“When did you sprain your wrist?” Gavin said. Geoff could tell he was trying to coax Michael into a conversation, most likely to subtly show the redhead that nothing had changed between them. Geoff admired Gavin’s persistence.

Michael, however, did not seem to care. He simply shrugged in response.

Gavin gave up after that. In the situation they’d been given, there was nothing he could to do to drag a sense of normalcy from Michael if the redhead wasn’t open to it.

The day went by slow. They happened to record nothing that included Michael, but even so, the energy level in whatever video they made was significantly low. Geoff was in a pissy mood all day; never directly at Michael, but the circumstances in general. It wasn’t fair to blame Michael for reacting as any human would’ve.

For a ‘superior being’, as society so dubbed it, Geoff could be infinitely stupid. While he didn’t know the exact moment in time in which he stuck his foot in his mouth, he did know that somewhere along the line he’d messed up. Said something to drive Michael away. Thinking back on the conversation, Geoff was fairly sure he’s accidentally insinuated that biting Michael had been something Geoff didn’t want to do.

He couldn’t believe how utterly wrong that was.

Geoff wanted to tell him, I’ve wanted to bite you for months.

He wanted to say, I’ve wanted a relationship for longer than that.

He wanted to whisper, I’ve been in love with you since you came into my life.

But he wasn’t sure if Michael would see those as lies, too.

And as the days progressed, he realized that Michael was completely shutting him out.

It was noticeable. Geoff didn’t exactly try his best to reconcile with Michael. He assumed that the redhead was just like any other male human he’d encountered – they didn’t need to talk about it, they just needed things to go back to normal.

It became clear that Michael needed more than that by next Friday.

An entire week of Michael avoiding them, and the redhead’s absence was a little more than haunting. The only time they heard him speak was when he recorded a Rage Quit on Thursday, and Geoff had had to stay late in the office to listen to it. He couldn’t help but notice the slight drag to Michael’s tone, as if the idiot wasn’t getting enough sleep.

It was quickly developing into a problem. It was no shock to any of the vampires when Burnie came into the office Friday morning, a somber expression on his face. Both Gavin and Michael weren’t in the room, but Geoff soon realized that Gavin was trailing after Burnie with a nervous look in his eyes. Geoff’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, Burns,” he started casually, turning to look at the man with a small smile.

“I think there’s something we need to talk about?” Burnie suggested. Geoff sighed. He was using the ‘I need to talk to you as a friend but I’m being your boss, too’ voice.

“I think there’s not,” Geoff answered lightly. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted slightly.

“I think that someone else thinks that there is,” Burnie said, eyes glancing at Gavin before darting away.

Geoff stared at Gavin. “Seriously?”

“It’s your bloody fault!” Gavin burst, uncrossing his arms in a fit of nervous anxiety. “You said something insensitive and ruined everything in a span of five minutes –”

“He freaked out at nothing!” Geoff said hotly. “I – I explained why he couldn’t remember much and he just went silent and left. How is that my fault?”

“What did you say?” Burnie said calmly.

“I told him that bad venom can be the cause of memory loss,” Geoff said truthfully. After a pause, he tacked on, “In more or less words.”

“Well, obviously something you said struck a nerve,” Burnie replied. “He’s refused Gus’ invitation to be on the podcast, which he’s never done, and Gavin won’t stop coming in my office to talk to me about it.”

“That’s a little private, don’t you think, Gav?” Geoff said almost desperately, but even he knew it was a lost cause. Burnie was one of his closest friends and this definitely wouldn’t be the first time he’d butted in on Geoff’s personal life.

Burnie knew this as well. He rolled his eyes and said, “Fine. If you want me to approach this as your employer, then so be it. Your videos have been a little subpar lately and I suggest you fix it.”

“Subpar?” Geoff snorted. “What the hell does that mea–?”

“It sounds as if you’re recording at a funeral,” Burnie said flatly. “It’s hard to listen to, if I’m being honest. Also, the fans are bitching about the lack of Michael.” Burnie paused to study his friend’s face. “Just sit him down and explain.”

“Explain,” Geoff grumbled. “That’s what caused this in the first place –”

“You misunderstood,” Burnie interrupted. “I meant explain everything.”

Geoff’s heart skipped a beat. He looked away. “I can’t do that.”

Ray cleared his throat, speaking up for the first time. “Actually, Geoff, I kind of agree with Burnie.”

Jack nodded. “I think it would solve a lot of problems,” he said, and Ryan nodded.

“Thanks, Burns, you’ve successfully turned everyone against me,” Geoff sighed sarcastically, bowing his head to run his hands through his hair. The muscles of his back and shoulders ached with the movement and he regretted not getting any sleep in the past four days.

Burnie scoffed. “I’ve turned no one,” the vampire said jokingly. He patted Geoff’s shoulder. “I’m just here to convince my stubborn friend to pull his head from his ass.”

“Thanks,” Geoff replied dryly.

Burnie hesitated. His hand rested on Geoff’s back and his voice went soft. Geoff could practically feel him shift back into concerned friend-mode. “I don’t know why you’ve waited so long. He clearly already likes you.”

“Huh?”

Burnie looked slightly confused. “You’re joking, right?”

There was silence.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Burnie squawked.

“Not completely,” Geoff said in a rush. “We don’t want to scare him off –”

“You’d think that in between five of you, there’d be at least an ounce of common sense,” Burnie said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re vampires, you fucking morons – god. I hate all of you. Have you never watched one of your own content videos before?”

Geoff felt his face growing warm. Ray answered for all of them with a quiet, “Well, duh –”

“He looks at you – all of you – as if he’s waiting for you to make a move!” Burnie exclaimed. “Goddamn, I thought you understood that. Vampires always make the first move in a relationship. Did you forget that?”

Geoff flushed fully now, embarrassment coloring his cheeks a light pink. “A little,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been with many humans in the past decade.”

“You been with none,” Ryan pointed out.

“I meant been around,” Geoff said, smiling slightly. The news Burnie had brought was beginning to lighten the weight around his heart.

“So you’re going to tell him?” Burnie asked quickly.

Geoff bit his lip. Before he could answer, a different voice piped up.

“I think you should do it, and do it now,” Lindsay said from the doorway, mouth fixed into a frown.

“Why?” Geoff said, standing from his chair. He could feel the atmosphere change into something more serious.

“Because he just left to spend another Friday night at a vampire bar.”

---

Michael had no idea how foundation worked, and now without Lindsay to help him, he was just butchering it more and more.

It was a few shades too dark and looked oily on his skin. He rubbed at it every few minutes while driving, glancing in the rearview mirror and making an irritated noise. It looked like dirt was smudged in a long line down the column of his neck. He glowered at the image, upper lip curling at the heavy bags under his eyes. That paired with his messy hair only added to the flustered image he presented.

He pushed at his tired eyes with the heel of one palm. The sun was setting over the horizon, casting odd shadows across the road he was traveling down. It wasn’t far to downtown, but he was quickly beginning to lose his earlier excitement, though his best friend had done a fair job stepping on his toes already.

Lindsay had been irritated with him all week, and for good reason.

“I can’t believe I got so unlucky,” she had sighed not half an hour before. “Being best friends with you is like being best friends with a brick wall.”

“I’m a lot more handsome than those red bastards,” Michael had joked half-heartedly, cringing when she sharply pushed his head upwards. He had rolled his eyes at the ceiling.

“This is such a pretty mark,” Lindsay had sighed, rubbing a single digit across the two points. Michael had shivered under the touch, the skin extremely sensitive ever since Geoff had… yeah. “He did a good job, at least.”

“Shut up, Lindsay!” Michael had snapped, pulling away slightly. She’d tightened her fingers around his neck to keep him in place.

“I’m serious – Geoff did a very good job. Do you know if he took blood or not?”

“I don’t think so.”

She’d tsked. “Ah, well that makes sense. Blood tends to taste like a drug, especially when it’s new and… from a mate,” she’d said, hesitating slightly. She’d known that Michael was still touchy on that topic. “A lot of vamps tend to do the ‘double bite’.”

“What’s that?”

“Getting a little too excited and accidentally chomping down a few times.”

“That’s horrific.”

“Not gonna lie, I’ve done it once or twice myself.”

“You’re horrific.”

She’d smacked him lightly and continued to work on his neck, carefully applying generous amounts of foundation and concealer before unhappily tossing a vial to the ground. It’d smashed into pieces on the warehouse floor.

“What was that?” Michael had gawked when she pulled back. He’d touched the skin of his neck nervously, grimacing when he felt the slick slide of liquid over his skin.

“It’s way too dark,” she’d explained angrily. “I’m not anywhere near your complexion type. Remind me why you need this again?”

Michael had pursed his lips. “I’m going out tonight,” he had hedged. She’d narrowed her eyes at him.

“So you’ve said,” she’d said plainly. He’d known since his initial request that she’d be unhappy with his plea for help. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Where are you going out?”

Lindsay knew him far too well. Knowing he couldn’t flat out lie to her, he’d muttered, “A bar downtown.”

She’d not been pleased with that answer at all. “What bar?”

“I’ve been to it before,” he’d said honestly.

Lindsay’s eyes had narrowed. “Oh, really?” she’d said, raising both eyebrows. “And are there vampires at this bar?”

Fuck.

“Probably,” Michael had replied nonchalantly. He’d idly wiped his slimy fingers on the table he’d been sitting on. After a prolonged silence, he reluctantly said, “Yeah. It’s the same bar as before.”

He’d been surprised to feel her arm smack him square on the bicep. He’d yelped and glared at her, the muscle aching.

“Goddammit, Michael. I hate you sometimes,” she’d ground out. “I’m not helping you with your dumb make-up project.”

“What? No, wait!” he’d protested, jumping down from the desk. Stepping over the shards of glass, he’d followed after her pleadingly, grabbing the back of her tee shirt and whining. “C’mon, Linds. The mark is… embarrassing. And the foundation’s all greasy and smeared.”

“I’m not helping you cover up that mark,” she’d said warningly. He dropped her shirt at the threat in her tone.

“What’s your deal?” he’d demanded, still walking behind her.

“You already know they are your mates,” she’d said, stopping and gesturing rather angrily towards the AH office. Michael had clenched his teeth. “And you already know what happens when you go to those kinds of places. I don’t know what you’re trying to pull -”

“I’m not trying to pull anything,” Michael had said heatedly. “They don’t want me as their mate, Lindsay.”

“So what, you’re going to find somebody at one of those bars?” she’d snapped. Michael had been shocked by the sting in her tone. “You’ll be lucky to find one clean of STDs.”

“I’m not going home with anyone this time,” Michael had hissed, cheeks reddening at the memory. “I’m not stupid enough to make that mistake again.”

“Obviously you are,” she’d told him with a dirty look. “I’ve already told you, like, a bajillion times. There’s no possible way they don’t ‘want’ you, Michael. If you really are their blood slave, then they are genetically inclined to be attracted to you.”

“Maybe physically,” Michael had muttered, and that had been the end of that. Monty had walked into the warehouse and abruptly shut down the conversation they’d already had dozens of times. Michael had practically fled from the building and to his car.

He sighed and pulled up to a stop sign, leaning his head forward to rest on the steering wheel. Why was he doing this? For attention? For them to notice that he was hurting?

He wanted to believe he was doing this for himself, though he was fairly certain that wasn’t true. As much as he wanted an apology, Michael wasn’t completely sure of who he wanted one from, or why. The best he could think of was one from Geoff for repeating the words that’d been said to him that morning after waking up in a stranger’s house, but Geoff couldn’t possibly know that.

Letting out a strong exhale, Michael sat straight up and continued through the stop sign. He’d already stopped at home to get dressed and was now heading towards the bar. He couldn’t help but feel nervous, palms slick with sweat as he turned the wheel into the parking lot. The pounding of the bass could be felt through the sole of his shoes as he walked towards the door. Bypassing the line, he went straight inside the doors with no problem, as the bouncers didn’t stop him. They didn’t stop humans.

As much as it was described as a bar, the atmosphere was nothing like one. Michael thought of it more as a club, with loud, trashy music and blinding techno lights. It was unbelievably cliché and disgusting, but the heart-stopping rhythm the entire room possessed gave Michael an adrenaline high that he quickly became addicted to. He bee-lined to the bar and ordered a drink immediately, using that as his anchor as he perched on the edge of the wooden table, eyes raking the crowd.

It was indeed very unhygienic in here. Neither Lindsay nor Gavin had been wrong when they’d warned him about these kinds of places. Strangers were rutting against one another unabashedly on the dance floor, and over in the ‘sitting down’ section of the building, Michael was fairly sure people were having sex on the couches. There were about twice as many vampires as there were humans, which wasn’t surprising, but Michael was shocked to see the amount of bite marks the humans were hosting.

Michael felt uncomfortable at the sight of these humans. They bore the marks proudly, as if presenting badges they’d earned, but Michael viewed them more as tract marks. That’s what the venom was like, after all; a potent drug. It’d affected him a lot like a drug would. There was no difference in Michael’s mind.

He couldn’t, however, understand how they were all up and walking. After a few hours with a stranger’s venom in his bloodstream, he’d been down and out for the count. If Geoff hadn’t… helped him, Michael was certain he would’ve been dead within a matter of hours. Here, there were marks that looked years old.

He was also shocked to see humans being bitten by more than one vampire at the same time. It generally seemed to be consensual, but it still gave Michael the shivers. This entire place gave Michael the shivers.

What he was doing here, he didn’t know.

Someone slid into the seat next to him. Jumping slightly at the low chuckle, Michael spun to see a larger man in his mid-thirties grinning down at him. He had tousled brown hair and pretty blue eyes, stubble coating his lower jaw. All in all, one-hundred percent Michael’s type.

And yet… something didn’t feel quite right.

“Hey, there,” the man greeted smoothly.

“Hi,” Michael said, giving a dorky little wave.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” the man said conversationally. He quickly ordered two drinks from the bartender, despite Michael’s Jack and coke sitting right in front of him. “First time?”

“Not exactly,” Michael laughed. He ran a hand through his hair. “Second time.”

The man grinned wordlessly and sniffed the air, and Michael suddenly got the feeling he shouldn’t have said that.

“Uh, I’ve already got a drink,” Michael told him when the bartender came back with two glasses. The man pushed one over to him anyway.

“It’s free,” he said invitingly. “I’m Morg, by the way.”

Michael almost choked on his newly offered drink. “Interesting name,” he snorted, taking a long swig from the cup. It tasted deliciously fruity, with a slightly bitter aftertaste.

“It’s short for Morgan,” the man explained, chuckling slightly. “What’s your name?”

“Michael. I’m human,” Michael blurted without much thought. He frowned. “Whoops, sorry.”

The man didn’t seem put off at all. If anything, he even smiled. “No worries. I’m a vamp,” he said winking. Without further ado, he opened his mouth and allowed his impressively large fangs to Michael. They were incredibly long and reminded Michael vaguely of a Saber-Tooth.

Raising his eyebrows, Michael mumbled, “Wow.”

The man smirked and retracted them. “That’s what most of the humans say,” he said, satisfied. “Wanna try ‘em out?”

Michael was surprised and slightly disappointed to feel absolutely no drive towards the man. He was handsome, that was for sure, but there was no spark. His confidence and aggressive behavior was attractive – alluring, even. And yet, Michael found himself shaking his head.

“I think I’m good, actually,” Michael said.

The man sniffed loudly once more. “I don’t smell any scent marker?” he said in a questioning tone.

“I don’t have a mate,” Michael said without thinking. He bit his lip, knowing that while this man didn’t seem like a bad guy, it was still unwise to be spouting off that he wasn’t here with anyone.

“Then why don’t I just have a little taste?” Morg said persistently. He leaned in slightly and Michael could see his fangs beginning to once again expand. “I’ve heard my venom is like heroin.”

“I’m not big into hardcore drugs,” Michael said flatly, leaning backwards. “Or strangers, to be honest.”

“Well, you don’t have to be into strangers,” Morg said with some annoyance. He leaned in closer. “I’m into you. You should be flattered.”

This guy definitely gave Michael the creeps now. Shuddering slightly, Michael slid from the barstool and stepped back, still holding his drink. “Ew. No. Sorry, but I’m not really into self-entitlement.”

Morg looked faintly disgusted. He straightened and sneered down at Michael. “Humans are so damn bratty,” he said with a roll of the eyes. “I don’t know why so many of them think they’re the ones choosing to fuck.”

“I think that’s called rape,” Michael said coldly. He left his drink on the bartop and allowed himself to be pulled into the lull of the crowd, the beat of the gyrating bodies quickly taking his mind off the rather unsettling encounter. He supposed it wasn’t horribly shocking to meet a creep like that here – this place was probably full of them, in fact – but it was unnerving to be so crassly approached by one.

His skin became warm and flushed with the sudden increase of body heat surrounding him. Before he knew it, he was sweating and breathing heavy in the midst of the pounding beat. His chest pulsed along with the rapid tempo, vibrations setting his teeth on edge. He didn’t dance much, instead choosing to roam among the many bodies. Hands slide along his sweat-slicked skin, tracing paths of flame across his pale flesh. It was intoxicating, and Michael quickly became light-headed and breathless in the influential atmosphere.

He only became aware something was wrong when he felt his the skin of his wrist nicked.

He pulled back harshly, barely noticing the song changing over the roaring in his ears. A woman was staring back at him with black eyes, her tongue darting out to swipe across her cherry red lips. She was attractive; young, thin, and blonde, with smudge eyeliner outlining her ebony eyes. Running a hungry gaze up and down Michael’s body, she moved closer, not minding the push and shove of the people around them. Her hair seemed to be shifting through colors rapidly, and it took Michael a full five seconds to realize that it was because the lights around them were changing.

“You smell so good,” she moaned and rutted against him. He felt no sexual inclination towards this woman – or any women – but his dick began to harden regardless. Recognizing this as wrong, wrong, wrong, he pulled back with a grunt.

“I don’t – I’m not…” he stammered, the words coming out slurred and fumbled. Frowning, he reached up a hand to circle his windpipe just slightly, as if that was the cause of his sudden disorientation.

“Where am I?” he asked her, blinking. A sudden rush of memories slammed into him and he abruptly felt like crying.

I’ve been slipped something, he realized as he began to disentangle himself from the crowd. Stumbling to the door, he hit the frame of the entrance with his shoulder and almost fell to the floor.

“What the hell,” he mumbled, clutching at his head. The room spun around him and it was easier to just lean uselessly up against the wood. “What the hell…”

I need to call Geoff.

The thought came to him in a wave of panic. He had to get out of here – and why were his pants so tight? He’d popped a boner without even realizing it, but now it was the only thing he could think of. His clothes were far too hot on his skin, restricting him in the most awkward of ways. Every move felt sluggish and disjointed. His tongue couldn’t sit properly in his mouth and he kept smacking his lips.

While continuing to lean heavily against the door frame, he felt around in his pockets. No phone, but he did have his keys and wallet. None of those, however, helped him call Geoff. Panting slightly, he squeezed his eyes at the onset of a headache, temples throbbing as he grabbed at the wooden frame to steady himself, though he hadn’t moved.

“Call Geoff,” he chanted quietly to himself. “Call Geoff… Call Geoff…”

“Do you need help?” a man asked. Michael almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden booming voice and spun around, almost managing to trip in the process.

His vision had gone blurry, smearing the man’s facial features together until he just seemed like a giant blob. He was tall, but his voice was friendly enough.

“Can I borrow your phone?” Michael slurred. He gritted his teeth. I sound absolutely pitiful.

“Yeah, sure,” the man said, and Michael was fairly sure he nodded. A gentle hand carefully grabbed him by the elbow and began to lead him outside. Cold air hit him like a tidal wave, washing away some of the confusion. The sun had fallen hours ago, the only light source in the alley being the sliver of moon left in the sky.

The side entrance was held open by the man’s foot as he searched his pockets, pulling out a black-cased iPhone. Handing it to Michael, he said, “Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks,” Michael said shakily and turned away. With the reintroduction of fresh air to Michael’s lungs, he was able to so speak more clearly. His headache, however, only strengthened. With trembling fingers, he dialed Geoff’s number and held the phone up to his ear.

It only rang once.

“Hello?”

“Geoff,” Michael croaked. There was a stunned pause on the other line.

“Where are you?” Geoff demanded a moment later. He sounded angry.

Knowing that he hadn’t spoken to Geoff in almost a week, he didn’t hesitate to say, “Please come pick me up, Geoff, please.”

“Where are you?” Geoff asked again. Michael couldn’t decipher the tone through the crackle of the shitty reception. He walked further into the alley to get more bars. His footsteps were loud in against the wet ground. Looking down, he thought that the water almost looked red in the dim light.

“The – The vampire bar in south Austin,” Michael answered breathily. “I – I’m in an alley on the side of it, do you want me to walk to the street? Are you coming to pick me up?”

“We’re already on the way, Michael,” Geoff assured him. Michael nodded to himself and felt his chest shuddered with heat. “No, don’t walk to the street. We’ll find you. It’s easier for someone to pick you off if you’re standing by the street corner.”

“Okay,” Michael breathed. “Okay.”

There was a slight shuffling noise as the phone was handed off to someone else. It was Ryan. “Did you take anything?” the older man asked without skipping a beat.

“No,” Michael said truthfully. He didn’t take drugs, especially ones served at clubs such as this.

His voice must’ve been more wobbly than he thought, because there was a long pause before Ryan finally asked, “Is there a possibility that someone slipped you something? In your drink or maybe in your food?”

“A guy bought me a drink,” Michael murmured. “But it’s not date rape.”

“How do you know?”

“I… I think it was an aphrodisiac,” Michael whispered, shivering slightly. A flush of heat was sent downward and his dick twitched in his pants. “Please just come and pick me up.”

“We’re coming, Michael,” Ryan said quickly.  “We’re just down the road, almost there.”

Michael felt unreasonable tears bead his eyes. He belatedly realized it was from the slight sting in his wrist and raised it to eye level, having to squint to see the small drop of blood running down his forearm. “Please hurry.”

“We are,” Ryan said firmly. There was a long pause and Michael heard more shuffling. He could hear the slam of a car door from the other end of the line. It was still Ryan, however, who spoke next. “What number are you calling from?”

I’m, uh… I don’t have my phone and I’m using someone else’s,” Michael said.

There was an even longer pause. “Who’s in the alley with you?” Ryan asked dreadfully slow.

“Some – some guy –” Michael stuttered, but he was abruptly cut off when something hit his upper back from behind. Already standing on unsteady feet, he was easily thrown off balance and went tumbling forward, reaching out his arms to grab onto something. His hands were greeted with warm flesh and he found himself with his back up against the wall, his shoulder blades digging into the brick uncomfortably hard. The phone was knocked from his hand as his wrist was pinned to the wall and he heard it clatter to the floor.

A hand wormed around his neck and pressed his head to the wall. A choked sound escaped his throat but it was quickly muffled when a mouth latched over his and swept away his sounds. He felt something pointed graze his tongue, not breaking the skin, but it sent a jolt up his spine. Something firm and warm pressed against his front, further pushing him into the wall, and a sharp nip was given to his lower lip before pulling away from the forceful kiss.

The skin of his jaw was nipped and sucked before the mouth reached the tender skin of his neck. Michael gasped, but the vampire hesitated at the spot before moving on. Traveling down the length of Michael’s arm, it instead chose a spot on his wrist and dug in. Wickedly sharp fangs easily dug pierced the delicate patch of skin on the inside of his wrist. Anger at the violation was hot and tangy on his tongue, but there was nothing he could do as the vampire buried its fangs deep into his bloodstream before withdrawing rather suddenly. It didn’t even inject its venom into him, instead sealing its lips over the wound and sucking.

Without the venom, the bite was no longer sensual or passionate. Michael screamed in pain as white-hot tendrils of fire spread through his arm and resonated up his shoulder, pinching and setting alight every nerve it could reach. He struggled in its grasp but his efforts were too weak. His wrist stung and throbbed under the harsh grip as the vampire adjusted its stance to secure Michael into place.

He could feel every disgusting pull of the thing’s mouth. The skin bruised almost instantly with each crude suck and the sensation of copious amounts of blood leaving his body was dizzying. A wave of light-headedness hit him in only a few seconds after being bitten and he felt his energy being sapped directly from his core.

For a few long, painful moments, Michael thought he was going to die.

What a stupid end. His life had been nothing so far, and to have it cut off in the middle by a stranger in an alley would’ve been the icing on top of his pitiful cake. He couldn’t let it end like this – he hadn’t apologized to Geoff yet. He hadn’t kissed Gavin on the mouth, he hadn’t grabbed Ryan’s ass playfully. He hadn’t taken Ray out on a romantic date and he hadn’t stared into Jack’s eyes long enough.

He hadn’t made a damned move yet.

He squeezed his eyes closed against the onslaught of pain and anguish, heart pounding in his chest and giving more and more fuel to this monster currently draining him of blood. Michael was going to die, alone and cold in an alleyway, and all he could think about were the things in life he’d yet to do. The leech attached to his arm readjusted its grip once more, pressing further into the two open, weeping wounds on Michael’s neck. Michael could feel the blood leaving his body in thick swallows.

But a certain group of five people had his back.

The mouth on his wrist was violently ripped away in a flurry of motion, the warm body against his suddenly disappearing. Michael’s eyes shot open but an intense dizzying sensation of relief swept through him too quickly to allow his brain to properly digest the scene. He fell sideways, one knee hitting the concrete as he clutched weakly at his arm. Blood continued to seep from the two puncture wounds, coating his hand and dripping to the concrete.

Hands grabbed at his and pulled it away from the wound. Before he could fully register what was happening, or who was kneeling in front of him, someone was leaning towards him. He closed his eyes and felt something press against the injury, stemming the flow, before an argument broke out in many voices.

“– not a hospital, I’m sure –”

“– two liters, I think?”

“That’s not two lit –”

“– doesn’t matter,” a louder, more powerful voice cut in, stopping all other conversations. The pressure against Michael’s wound didn’t falter, but he could tell someone had switched places.  Michael’s eyes fluttered open.

Geoff’s piercing gray eyes were staring intently into his. The older man was only inches away and Michael could see, even through his blurry vision, that the other’s pupils were dilated almost completely, the black swallowing up the gray.

Reading his expression expertly, Geoff studied him for a few long seconds before relaxing slightly. “You’re okay?” he guessed with a meek smile.

Michael nodded shakily. “I’m okay,” he whispered, the words barely audible. His hand weakly wrapped around Geoff’s, the one that was currently holding something soft and absorbent up to his wrist.

“I’m going to take this off and seal the wound,” Geoff warned him. Michael nodded and thrust forward his arm, waiting impatiently. The fog around his mind was beginning to clear with the arrival of his saviors. The aphrodisiac had left his system when the adrenaline from being bitten had kicked in and the blood loss had slowed. He felt dizzy as hell, but even through the haze, he could feel Geoff gently running his tongue over the two punctures. Michael couldn’t stop the shiver that passed through his shoulders.

Geoff leaned back. There was a small smear of blood on his chin, but he wiped it off hastily with the back of his hand. With his other hand, Michael reached to feel for a mark and for a moment he feared that there would be one, still have a gouge of flesh missing, but the skin was seamless and smooth. He looked at Geoff and his vision sharpened slightly.

“Geoff,” he said in a rough voice, reaching out for the man. Blood covered fingers twisted into the fabric of Geoff’s shirt, but he made no move to pull the man closer.

He knew his life wasn’t in danger any longer, but he couldn’t stop the words from coming out regardless.

“Am I your mate?”

---

Geoff laughed, slightly nervous, and unhooked Michael’s fingers from his shirt without answering. Pushing them back to the redhead’s chest, he glanced over his shoulder and directed his next statement towards Jack.

“Can you bring the car around front?” he asked, shooting the bearded man a grateful look when he immediately nodded and turned back inside the club.

Ryan moved forward and knelt next to Geoff, pushing him slightly to the side. Gavin and Ray were nowhere to be seen.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asked him, bringing the redhead’s attention back up front.

“Not as bad as last time,” Michael answered, sounding much more articulate than when he’d been on the phone earlier.

“This is the last time,” Geoff told him sternly. Michael didn’t seem to take his words too strongly to heart and Geoff knew they’d be having a more serious conversation about that in the future. But first –

“Am I your mate?” Michael asked again, in a much louder voice. Geoff flinched, glancing desperately at Ryan as if he could give him a better answer.

“Michael –” Ryan started but Michael started to shake his head.

“A yes or no will suffice,” he growled, leaning forward slightly. His glare intensified, growing impatient. “Just tell me!”

“Yes, Michael!” Geoff snapped, biting his lip and searching the redhead’s eyes nervously. “You’re our bloodsl – our mate.”

Michael’s exhale trembled slightly and he closed his eyes tightly. “That’s why the venom worked,” he said slowly. “Why your bite didn’t hurt like the other ones.”

Before Geoff could get a word in, Ryan quickly cut him off. “How many other bites, Michael?” he asked seriously, frowning.

“Just… just this one and the other one,” Michael muttered. He blinked tiredly, brow furrowing. “It’s also why he said I had a scent marker… thanks, for that.”

“What?” Geoff said, thoroughly confused.

Michael switched topics without hesitating. “Can you drive me home?” the redhead asked pitifully. Geoff had never heard him sound so defeated.

“Y – Yeah,” Geoff mumbled, hurrying to reach forward and heave Michael’s arm over his shoulder. When Michael went completely ragdoll with what Geoff assumed was exhaustion, he glanced at Ryan. Decided to steamroll right over Michael’s remaining dignity, he picked the redhead up bridal style instead and Michael didn’t complain.

The ride home was fucking awful.

Gavin and Ray got to the car late and there was blood on their knuckles. Geoff didn’t want to ask, and even felt a twinge of jealousy at what they got the chance to do, but Jack was relentless in his line of questioning. The car was filled with yelling and arguments the entire way there. Michael, who was riding shotgun for once, seemed to be passed out with his head on the dashboard, and Ryan was listing off the symptoms of shock to look out for. Despite knowing that Michael was perfectly fine at the moment, Geoff couldn’t help but imagine him pale, sickly, and clammy all over again.

He pulled into the driveway after a rather reckless journey. Being the first one out of the car, Geoff was also the one to pull Michael from the passenger seat. He was warm and breathing deeply in his arms, not even stirring as Geoff gathered him.

Jack opened the doors for him as he went through the house, heading towards the master bedroom. Gavin, who looked supremely confused, followed after him quickly while the others lingered behind.

“What are you doing?” he asked as Geoff set the redhead onto the sheets. “It’s almost midnight and I doubt he’d like waking up to… us. Shouldn’t you put him in the guest bed?”

Geoff barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Guest bed is a little unusable right now, if you don’t remember,” he said quietly. “Besides… he knows.”

There was a shocked pause. “You told him?”

“He already knew,” Geoff said as he shook his head. He frowned slightly. “I think he knew for a while.”

And even as he said the words, he knew them to be true.

“What?” Gavin said in utter befuddlement.

“He remembered that I bite him,” Geoff explained, dragging Michael’s upper body towards the higher part of the body so he was lying in a more comfortable spot. “And Lindsay is his best friend. I’m sure he connected the dots after asking her a few things about vampire culture.”

“Then why didn’t he want to be around us?” Gavin demanded. His eyes widened as he mentally answered his own question. “Does he not like us?”

Geoff shook his head slowly, though he’d yet to confirm anything concrete, even within his own mind. As he looked down at Michael’s peaceful expression, his instincts soothed his fears. “I don’t think that’s it,” he said. “His first reaction to being in a dangerous situation was to call me, and he was very out of it.”

Gavin nodded in agreement, having heard Michael’s slurred speech over Geoff’s phone when he’d set it to speaker in the car.

“Why did he go back to that bar?” Gavin questioned aloud.

“To get our attention? I really don’t know, Gav,” Geoff said, shrugging helplessly.

“You don’t seem too upset over all of this,” Gavin said with narrowed eyes as Geoff sat down on the bed.

Burying his hand in Michael’s red curls, Geoff could only shrug. A small smile curled his lips.

“I guess I just found a little peace of mind.”

---

Michael woke up with the worst hangover he had ever had.

He stumbled from the bed with little less than perfect grace, flying into the nearest bathroom he could find. Not sparing a single fuck, Michael hunched over the unfamiliar toilet and emptied his stomach’s contents into it, hands clutching the porcelain seat with desperation.

Oh, god. My fucking head.

His vision seemed to throb with each bound of his aching head. The stream of bile dwindled until he was simply dry heaving into the bowl, stomach clenching repeatedly as it emptied itself completely. Sweat broke out across his forehead and upper lip, unpleasant chills running down the back of his arms and legs.

Not exactly the perfect way to start the day.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump. Raising his head, he peered blearily at whoever was towering over him, a toothbrush sticking out of the figure’s mouth.

It was Gavin.

“Hi, Michael,” he said in his typical coo, though the words were slightly distorted around the plastic. “Not a very good morning?”

Michael glared at him. Gavin didn’t seem to hold any sympathy for him – in fact, there was definitely mirth glowing in his hazel eyes. Wordlessly, the Brit turned back to the mirror and continued to brush his teeth.

When Michael’s stomach finally stopped cramping, Gavin had exited the bathroom, giving a firm pat to Michael’s shoulder, and Jack had come in. He, at least, seemed to pity Michael to some extent and after brushing his teeth and combing down his bedhead, he reached down to hand him a cup of cold, clean water. Giving Michael an overly friendly rub on the back, Jack then excused himself and left.

Ray came in next, and he was sporting a grin before he’d even entered the room.

“Morning, Michael,” he chirped happily. Michael almost laughed at the sight of the Puerto Rican’s bedhead. Leaning over the redhead to peer into the toilet, Ray sighed in relief. “Good to see you flushed. Move over a few inches, will ya?”

And without a second thought, Ray had taken out his dick and was taking a piss.

At this point, Michael didn’t even argue. He instead took to sprawling across the floor, ignoring the loud noise of Ray’s stream hitting the toilet bowl. Ray finished, tucked himself back in, and – to Michael’s shock – planted a solid kiss on his temple.

I might still be drunk.

Why Michael was in their house, he still wasn’t sure. He had trouble thinking through the headache that hammered at his eyes and was content with not worry about it for a while, instead choosing to simply lay his cheek against the cold tile floor.

As a result, Ryan almost stepped on him.

“Oops – sorry, Michael,” Ryan apologized rather tiredly. He seemed exhausted. “Why are you lying on the floor?”

“Dunno,” Michael grunted truthfully. “Why do you look so tired?”

Ryan smirked. “Dunno,” he parroted.

“Why am I here?” Michael questioned, slitting an eye open just in time to see Ryan freeze. Slowly, the blond lowered his hand to put the glass back onto the table.

“You don’t remember?”

“I have a headache,” Michael said in lieu of an answer. “And a hangover.”

Ryan pursed his lips and reached into the medicine cabinet for an Aspirin. He could hear a brand new bottle of the small pills, pills vampires didn’t even need, being opened and Michael almost grinned. Almost.

“Here,” Ryan said, handing him two along with another cup of water. Michael took the pills greedily.

“I’ll report back when the headache goes away,” he told the blond, settling back against the cool tile flooring. Ryan rolled his eyes and left, but not without a slight smile.

Slowly but steadily, the medicine began to take effect. And when the pain receded, Michael’s memory developed, like a film on an old camera. He could see everything in blinding, unpleasant detail: the pounding bass of the club, the bodies swinging in time with the music, the man whose phone he’d borrowed shoving him up against the wall and chewing on his wrist, and even Geoff’s face was there.

And with Geoff’s face, their conversation was renewed in Michael’s mind.

Am I your soulmate?

“Why did I ask him that,” Michael moaned into the bowl, hands clenching as embarrassment flushed his face scarlet. “Why did he answer…?”

“Because you deserved an answer,” Geoff said from behind him. Michael didn’t even have the energy to jump, his hangover delaying his reflexes until they were nonexistent. He slowly dragged himself to a more regular sitting position and glanced up at Geoff before quickly averting his eyes. The tattooed man was wearing a loose, see-through white tee shirt and boxers – nothing indecent, but Michael still felt he was violating the older man’s privacy.

“Get off the floor,” Geoff laughed quietly, and Michael was surprised to hear the genuine cheer in his voice. He was in a far better mood than Michael had woken up in.

“Just leave me here,” Michael mumbled half-jokingly. “To drown in vomit.”

“That’s disgusting,” Geoff told him before cutting right to the chase. He reached down and wormed his hands under Michael’s arms and physically lifted him from the floor. Scrambling for something to hold on to, Michael ended up clutching at Geoff’s arms.

“Goddamn, give me a warning first,” Michael yelped. He stumbled when Geoff set him on his feet.

“Here’s some mouthwash,” Geoff said with a smile, shoving the bottle of green liquid into Michael’s hands. “And if you want to take a shower… you are wholeheartedly invited to do so.”

Michael shot him a dirty look but couldn’t deny that he smelled a bit ripe. “Wait,” he called when Geoff turned to leave.

Michael chewed on his lower lip for a moment, thinking over his words, before finally muttering, “Do you… just not want me as a mate or something? Because – Because I know you know, since you said yes to my question last night. But, like, you never made it clear and you never told me, and I’ve known you all for months. So… I can understand just not wanting to tell me we’re mates if you didn’t want me as your mate. But I think I should at least be told outright that it’s not going to happen if it isn’t.”

At least Michael was man enough to look into Geoff’s eyes as he made his confession. He watched with trepidation as Geoff’s gray orbs widened slightly, cheeks pinking just enough to be visible to Michael’s human eyes. His mouth fell open and Michael waited patiently for words to come out, but a budding of hope was blossoming in the redhead’s chest even as they stood in silence.

“That’s not it at all!” Geoff practically shouted when he was finally able to form the words. “God – everyone in this stupid company has the worst communication problems.”

“Including you,” Michael muttered, eyes cutting to the side. A smile was curling his lips, however, and he could help but feel excited.

“Including me!” Geoff agreed with vehemence. He stepped closer, startling Michael slightly when he was suddenly pushed against the counter. Geoff crowded him, leaning over him and forcing Michael to crane his head to look into the tattooed man’s eyes.

“I didn’t tell you because we – me, Gavin, and the rest – already found each other,” Geoff breathed, and Michael had to frown at that.

“And – and you were happy to leave it like that?” he guessed in confusion. His throat tightened.

“No, no – there were five of us. I – I didn’t want to scare you off, Michael,” Geoff admitted softly. Michael could feel the breath of the words ghost over his lips. “Five vampires as a mate – I wouldn’t have blamed you if you ran. I wanted to ease you into it.”

Michael laughed breathily. “For the most part, it worked,” he said truthfully. “It’s been an awesome few months, Geoff. And I definitely… got used to you.”

Geoff smiled and let out a small, relieved puff of air. Michael could feel his chest deflate with the tension of it releasing. “I’m glad to see my plan worked, then,” Geoff murmured and – oh.

He was leaning down.

Holding his breath, Michael’s insides warmed and wriggled as Geoff inched lower, lips hovering just over Michael’s. Giving in, Michael closed the distance and connected them, a burst of heat in his chest causing his entire body to tingle and shudder. His fingers unclenched around the countertop and his weight was instantly supported by Geoff’s hands holding Michael to his body. Their fronts were flush, but Michael could focus on nothing more than the sensation of Geoff slowly dragging his tongue across Michael’s lower lip.

Asking for permission.

Without hesitation, Michael parted his lips. He felt the sleek muscle glide in and meet with his own, rubbing sensually along the sides before roaming further into his mouth. Michael sighed in bliss and relaxed further into Geoff until the tattooed man was completely supporting his weight. His arms looped around Geoff’s shoulders and he deepened the kiss himself, sparks igniting deep in his stomach when Geoff nipped at his lower lip. The older man pulled away with obvious reluctance, but Michael was overjoyed to see the flush on the other man’s cheeks, though he was certain he wasn’t faring much better.

“If you ever,” Geoff panted, “pull a stupid stunt like that again –”

Filming Immersion was quickly becoming one of Michael’s favorite activities.

He got to hang with his boi and do dangerous things, though the amount of safety precautions that Burnie and Gus implemented was a bit of a downer. The actual build-up to filming was torturous too; all talk and no play for weeks and weeks while they planned. And sitting next to Gavin in the conference room, the Brit’s leg jiggling up and down as he mindlessly toyed with the contracts they were supposed to be signing, was probably Michael’s least favorite activity.

Despite having puked his guts out for at least an hour after riding in that stupid racecar, it had been the time of Michael’s life. Having been raised into a rather sheltered life, as Geoff so often enjoyed to tease him about, Michael had never experienced a thrill quite like driving over a hundred miles an hour around a race track multiple times while simultaneously trying to steer his own virtual vehicle. His adrenaline had been pumping, blood coursing through his body at a speed similar to that of the car. Throwing up, though disgusting and a major inconvenience, hadn’t even bothered him. He’d rationed that it didn’t matter how he felt – as long as the camera caught it, and the audience enjoyed it, his short-lived misery was worth it.

The next Immersion hadn’t required as much planning. Playing paintball wasn’t nearly as dangerous and Michael hadn’t had to worry about the technical side of the concept – he was just the one wearing the split-screen helmet. It was Gus’ job to create the contraption, and in Michael’s opinion, it was well-made, if not a little dizzying.

“How do I switch to fullscreen on mine?” Gavin asked, frowning as he wrestled the helmet over his head. It bumped on the bridge of his nose, the image flickering.

Gus rolled his eyes and reached forward to display how the controls worked. Michael laughed and batted at Lindsay, who was attempting to latch the neck of his blue Immersion suit. She knocked away his hands with light slaps.

“Barbara told me to tell you not to aim for the balls,” Lindsay told him, grinning as he turned around. She smacked the visor, causing the image to shake.

“Why would she tell me that?” Michael laughed. His breath caused the space in the helmet to warm immediately.

“Because she’s called dibs.”

“He’s my boyfriend, his balls are my dibs.”

Lindsay laughed and nodded in agreement. Gavin gave them a suspicious glance between continuing his lowly spoken conversation with Barb. Patting Michael’s shoulder, Lindsay gave the redhead an encouraging smile before reaching over and carefully lifting his paintball gun from the table. She handed it to her best friend with vigor, shoving the machine into his palms and glancing at the time. “It’s gonna get hot around noon,” she told him.

“So we should hurry?” Michael said, looking down at his gun and grimacing when he saw how distorted his depth perception was. “Fucking shit – this is gonna suck so hard.” Regardless, he was sporting a wide grin.

This is gonna be fucking fun.

Barbara was a step ahead of Lindsay, already proceeding to push Gavin away from the table they’d set up just outside of the paintball course. They’d filmed the intro early that morning, just after the sun had risen, and Burnie was hopeful that they’d be finished before the workday was officially over. Neither Gavin nor Michael were expecting that to play out true, but at least they’d be spending the day doing something fun.

The set up was damn near as torturous as the meetings were. Gavin and Michael were rushed around, shown the course inside and out, and sat down for the safety instructions. Despite the many jokes, there was nothing Burnie took more seriously than his employee’s safety.

But finally, after about two hours, Michael and Gavin were finally placed on opposite sides of the course, gun in either man’s hand and camera trained on both. The start of the match was signaled minutes later, and the game was on.

True to Burnie’s words, the hardest part in the first few moments was getting used to the rather disorientating split screen view of the other man’s camera. Michael stumbled forward the first few steps with grace equivalent to that of a toddler’s. The crunch of the dried leaves under his shoes was muffled through the foam surrounding his head, but his breathing was deafening. He held his gun at the ready, despite having no visual on Gav just yet.

He allowed his eyes to glance to where Gavin was looking. It was utterly unfamiliar to him – Gavin could be looking straight at him and Michael probably wouldn’t realize. Shaking his head, Michael kept his eyes trained on his upper portion of the screen and continued around the corner.

“Gavin,” Michael called when he heard the familiar ramblings of the Brit. “Where are ya, buddy?”

There was a cameraman in his screen for a split second before he practically dove off camera. Michael snickered and pointed his gun away from the man, eyes raking the horizon for any sign of Gavin, but there were just the dull colors of the run down buildings and trees.

His shoe stubbed on a step in front of him. Michael glanced down, startled slightly. He cursed and made an exaggerated step over the small ledge. He called again for his boi, but the moment he rounded the corner, he hesitated.

There was a blue blur in the far right corner of his screen. It was wobbling back and forth, but Michael couldn’t make out the details. He started backing up hastily, realizing that it was Gavin – the Brit was spinning around to aim his gun at him.

But before Michael could fire his own shot off as he retreated, the heel of his foot struck something solid and unmoving. He instantly tried to right himself by placing it down somewhere else but his balance had already been lost and he went falling into a small pit, arms flailing and catching onto a board that covered half of it. He distantly recognized it as the thing he’d tripped on earlier, but he had better things to worry about, such as Gavin making a loud, gleeful exclamation and firing off some shots in his direction. Michael quickly dragged himself out of the hole, aiming threateningly over his shoulder at Gavin, but the Brit was already sprinting away. Michael took the chance to run and ducked behind the cover of one of the nearby houses.

Cursing, Michael tried to control his breathing. His ankle twinged slightly with each step, but he was able to walk it off for the most part. He could hear his boyfriend making some nonsensical blurbs in the distance.

Pushing off from the house, Michael carefully stepped out from his cover. In his screen, there was no sign of the other man. He warily trekked down the small slope of land, gun held aloft as he searched for Gavin.

He ended up getting extremely lucky.

He found Gavin quickly, the Brit having already trapped himself in a small enclosure. Michael took the shot with vigor, peppering the younger man’s body with the orange pellets. Gavin fired back and took one of the small escape routes that led out the back, effectively fleeing the scene.

Michael leaned heavily against the wall, aiming his gun towards the sky as he looked at Gavin’s screen. He could see the Brit preparing a grenade and edged more inside the wall so he wasn’t hit and waited, watching as Gavin threw the small, green plastic ball until it exploded in a mess of yellow just feet from him.

“It didn’t work!” he heard Gavin yell. Peeking around the corner, Michael laughed when he saw Gavin retreating hastily, running to better cover. Taking the chance for a change of location himself, Michael skipped to the next building. He sideswiped a grenade from the top of a crate as he went, grinning to himself. Uncapping it, he frowned when the pin got stuck halfway.

“Oh, you got a grenade, huh?” he heard Gavin shout tauntingly. “Bring it!”

“If I can figure out… how to undo it – aw, fuck!” he shouted when a sudden flow of yellow burst from the lid. It showered over his hands and the front of his pants. “I grenade-ed myself!”

He wiped his hands on the back of his pants, but Gavin had suddenly rounded the corner and begun firing. He hissed when he was hit in the thigh, a sting starting up almost immediately and only enhancing as he ran backwards. He sloppily fired back and Gavin soon began to run. Michael chased after him until the Brit was trapped in a small hut. Burnie and Gus called the round after realizing Michael had won, though the redhead admittedly hadn’t gotten too many shots in on the Brit.

Round two went well enough. He heard Gavin screaming and squealing from across the course, but his confusion only lasted a few moments. He realized belatedly that there were now NPC’s firing at them. It was no longer just Gavin and Michael on the course.

It was just by chance he ended up back where Round one had started. He was following after Gavin, shooting wildly at the other’s back after the idiot threw a grenade at him and missed, laughing as he did so. Michael probably wasn’t very successful, as running tended to throw off his aim, but he chased after his boyfriend with a large grin.

He wasn’t completely sure what happened this time. His foot smashed into brick, but instead of simply doing a half-jump into the hole like he’d done before, his inertia was far greater, sending him sprawling into the small pit. He could only stretch out one hand, the gun in the other causing him to reflexively pull it inwards, and he felt an unpleasant shock wave ripple up his left arm. His fingers went numb, probably from smashing into the concrete, and soon someone was tapping his shoulder.

“You alright?” one of the camera crew asked him. Michael automatically nodded, holding up a shaky thumb as affirmative. He struggled to get to his feet and finally stood atop the board covering the other half, stumbling around for a moment before he stepped off and onto solid ground.

He became aware of the ache a little into the third match. By then, Lindsay had absolutely wrecked him. There were bruises littering his stomach – and a particularly painful one on his ass – as a testament to how many times she’d fired mercilessly into him. He’d gone down almost instantly.

But a few minutes after the signal for round three, Michael realized that it wasn’t just his fingertips that’d gone numb. His wrist was throbbing, pain radiating up the limb in forceful waves until he couldn’t bear to hold it upright. His thumb was refusing to listen to him. He’d yet to meet Gavin on the course, so it wasn’t an issue yet, but even as he walked, the pain began to make him feel dizzy. Just as he was considering calling for aid, he felt his foot slip off something irritatingly familiar and went tumbling sideways. Only one arm pinwheeled this time, and he landed on his left with a sickening crunch. His head was cushioned from the blow but stars still managed to burst in his eyes.

He lay there, propped up slightly by all the gear attached to him, with a ringing in his ears for the better part of a minute before hands were finally all over him, sitting him up more firmly and taking off his helmet. He frowned, blinking against the sudden flood of bright sunlight.

“The Go-Pro –” he started, the words alarmingly slurred together.

Gavin was staring down at him, face abnormally pale. His own helmet was off, hair matted down slightly, and there were goggle lines around his eyes.

“Michael, silly boi, did you hit your head?” Gavin asked shakily, laughing. He sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“No?” Michael said rubbing the back of his head. “I fell in this damn, fucking hole again. Three times now!”

“You stopped talking for a moment there – I got concerned,” Gavin confessed. He glanced up when the many sounds of footfalls thundered around them. Burnie was leading the small stampede, clipboard forgotten as he hopped down into the small pit and crouched next to Michael.

“What happened?” he asked without hesitating.

“Michael fell into this damn pit again,” Gavin laughed. There was an awkward pause in which Michael was supposed to joke about his own misfortune, his own clumsiness, his own mistake, something – but the redhead simply gazed at a point off in the distance with a dazed look on his face. The conversation seemed oddly irrelevant to him.

“Does he need a med check, sir?” someone asked Burnie. By the way they were dressed, Michael assumed they were one of the medical officers they had on hand in case of an emergency. The thought made him laugh.

“Maybe he does,” Burnie said in a joking tone, though there was a spark of worry in his eyes. He looked at Gavin. “You’re alright, aren’t you? Did you see what happened? I saw in the main camera, but he went out of frame for a moment.”

“I wasn’t looking at his screen, but I think he just fell. Maybe hit his head,” Gavin suggested.

“Alright, well let’s get him up,” Burnie said bracingly. He climbed to his feet and carefully pried Michael’s gun out of his hand and pulled his arm over his shoulder, hefting the redhead upwards until Michael was finally able to stand on his own two rocky feet. “Christ – you’re fucking leaning on me, Michael, support your own damn weight.”

“We can take him from here, sir,” the medical officer offered. Burnie shook his head, realizing that the man didn’t know he was saying the words only to taunt Michael into giving a proper response. Burnie was a buff guy – he could carry one dude, for heaven’s sake.

“I got him,” Burnie replied as he helped Michael walk from the hole. The redhead started pulling away after a few moments, coming to his senses slightly.

“This does not feel good,” Michael announced loudly. Gavin had to muffle his giggle at the blatantly spoken words.

“What doesn’t, Michael?” Gavin asked.

“Being held by Burnie,” Michael answered.

“As long as it’s on camera,” Gavin sang, patting Michael on the shoulder.

“Right,” Michael remembered. “Camera. What’re we doing? Immersion?”

Burnie and Gavin gave each other a glance before increasing their pace to the medical tent. Michael bumbled along beside the older man, struggling to keep up with the speedy walk that soon turned into a jog.

“Why’re you going so fast?” Michael grumbled when they finally reached their destination. He tugged away from Burnie and plopped into a chair, grinning at the larger man’s stunned stare.

“Because you sound like you’ve dropped about eighty IQ points,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes. He had a cell-phone out in hand and stepped away to make a call a moment later. Michael looked at him suspiciously, but for what, he wasn’t sure. He forgot about it in a few second anyway and turned to Burnie, scrunching up his face at the older man.

“We weren’t done, were we?” Michael asked confusedly.

“No, we’d just started match three,” Burnie said, stepping back and a certified medical officer crouched in front of Michael instead.

Michael glared at him but dejectedly allowed the man to flash a small penlight into his eyes. He then took his pulse and asked him if anything hurt. After a long moment of deliberation, Michael told him to ask him later.

Burnie found that a little funny while Gavin found it none. Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, Gavin muttered something into Burnie’s ear before he swiftly left the tent. Michael stared after him in bewilderment, slightly hurt that Gavin would simply leave when there was a good chance he was hurt. He wasn’t, but still. Gavin should stay.

“He just bumped his head against the brick step, if I had to guess,” the medic said, parting Michael’s hair and searching his scalp for any visible injury.

“He had on a helmet,” Burnie pointed out, brow furrowing.

“It probably saved him from getting a more severe concussion. I don’t think he even has a minor one – just seems a little confused.”

“My arm hurts,” Michael suddenly exclaimed, but a second later, he thrust out the wrong one. The medic immediately took hold of his arm, frowning and helping Michael shrug out of the blue labcoat. He felt up and down the expanse of Michael’s bare arm, shaking his head when he reached his fingers.

“Nothing seems wrong,” he said. “But if the pain persists, visit a doctor.” Looking up at Burnie, he said, “I wouldn’t advise continuing the shoot.”

Burnie nodded as if expecting that answer. “We’ll just say that the NPC’s won. Lindsay shot the shit out of you earlier, Michael. We were honestly thinking to award them the victory anyway.”

“I knew it was Lindsay who’d shot me in the dick,” Michael hissed. Burnie laughed.

The medic moved away from Michael, leaving the redhead to recline against the back of the chair and sigh. He sorely wished Gavin was near him, but the younger hadn’t come back yet. He wondered where the idiot was.

He spent the next thirty minutes with his head in his hands, a headache forming strong behind his right ear. As his adrenaline fell, the pain in his left arm rose until it was nearly unbearable. His breathing was labored with the effort of raising his arm to cradle the injured appendage to his chest. The tent was empty and he wasn’t sure if he could stand without just immediately passing out, so he settled on waiting for something to enter.

He didn’t count on the next person being Geoff.

Almost missing the sound of the tarp being shifted, Michael glanced up in time to see the tattooed arms pulling the white sheet to the side. His eyes widened, dread filling his stomach like ice water.

“What’s with that face?” Geoff laughed, allowing the tarp to hang open behind him. Michael could see Burnie talking to Lindsay and Barbara near the prep table.

“Uh –” Michael hesitated. Geoff’s eyes were doing that cute squinty thing when he was happy to see the redhead. Michael telling him that he was about 89% sure that his arm was broken would definitely wipe the expression off his face, not to mention get him in trouble. Ever since the fucking rib incident, he’s been in hot water, despite it having happened almost half a year ago. “Hi, Geoff,” he said weakly.

“Gav called a little while ago,” Geoff said, moving closer and running his hands carefully through the redhead’s curls. “I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I know from – ah – personal experience that Immersion can give you some pretty nasty scars, both mental and physical.”

“Right,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Sorry, does that hurt?” Geoff said, withdrawing his hands. He placed them on Michael’s shoulders instead and fucking ow. That hurt like a sonofabitch. Michael’s eyes began to water.

“How’s Gav?” Michael heard himself ask.

“Says you got him real good in the thighs,” Geoff snickered. “I gotta say – you have to be a pretty good shot to get him in the chicken legs.”

Michael chuckled breathily. “Wasn’t too hard, actually.”

“Yeah. Immersion was always fun to shoot,” Geoff said fondly. “Me and Gus were little shits on the stage, but we had a great time.”

“Yep, this is, uh… pretty fun,” Michael said lamely. He was floundering for words at this point, the only thing on his mind the pain in his arm. Geoff seemed to be in an oddly good mood, however, and a distinct sense of pride was emanating from the tattooed man.

“I doubt they’ll have any food challenges this time,” Geoff said ruefully, shaking his head and grinning. “You downed that barbeque sauce like you were born for it. Gavin would just puke off the bat. I doubt that’d be fun to watch.”

Michael nodded in agreement. His vision seemed to bounce off the top of his skull and the sudden words, medical check before bed floated through his mind. They were gone as soon as they’d come, and he was back to looking at Geoff’s concerned face.

“Are you alright?” Geoff asked after a pause. “Does your head hurt? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so quiet.” There was another pause as something darker flickered in the man’s gray orbs. “Not hiding anything, are we?” he asked in a deceivingly light tone.

Now or never. “Well… it does, a bit, actually,” Michael started, trying to answer the questions in the order they were asked. “And my ar –”

“A hole, Michael?” a voice proclaimed, Ray bursting into the tent a moment later with an odd glint in his eye. Michael wasn’t sure if the brunette was going to punch him or hug him. “If you’re going to lose, it at least should be by a human.”

“Three times is pretty ridiculous,” Ryan agreed. He held the tarp open for Jack and Gavin before walking in himself. It had suddenly become stuffy and cramped in the small space. Michael could feel his skin start to crawl, the surface of his body immediately warming a few degrees. His fingertips weren’t moving, though he was fairly sure he’d just clenched his hands into fists.

“You get befuddled by the oddest things,” Geoff said, rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t befuddled,” Michael gritted out. “It was hard to see where I was putting my feet. Gavin knows what I’m talking about, don’t you, boi?”

Gavin gave him a slight glare and reluctantly agreed. “Yeah… but three times is still ridiculous. It was literally your starting point and you couldn’t remember that there was a drop there?”

“Why’re you being pissy?” Michael asked.

“Because you shot me in the legs!” Gavin squawked. “And it hurts!”

“Good,” Michael chuckled. “Because you got me a few times, too. Paintball sucks. This is why laser tag is much more fun.”

Gavin seemed to cool off almost instantly. “I agree whole-heartedly,” he said loudly. The words seemed to pound against the redhead’s eardrum. “It was fun before that, though.”

“Before what?”

“Before you fell, you tosspot. You scared the living hell out of me. I could see from your point of view that your head hit the step and then you stopped moving!”

Michael flushed in embarrassment. “Yeah, well, I was a bit stunned,” he muttered.

“Not even a concussion,” Gavin said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “You’re a drama queen.”

Michael gulped. “Right. Uh – I actually think that I may’ve –”

“Can I come in?” a voice interrupted. Michael almost bit his tongue.

Burnie shoved his head through the opening without waiting for a response. He glanced at each Hunter’s face before looking at Geoff quizzically. “I didn’t realize Gavin was calling the cavalry.”

“Well, I only called Geoff, but everyone else came as well,” Gavin said defensively.

“No one was doing anything,” Geoff shrugged. “Except maybe for Ryan, but he can make it up tomorrow.” Ryan nodded along with Geoff’s words.

“Alright, well, we have to shoot a wrap up and then we can go home,” Burnie said, directing his statement towards Michael and Gavin. The latter nodded and at once began to follow Burnie from the tent, but Michael hesitated before he rose. Geoff’s sharp eyes caught the small flinch and he instantly was outside, talking to Burnie in low tones.

“The medic said he was fine,” Burnie said, frowning. He started to step back towards the tent as if he was going to be the one performing the next exam.

Geoff gave him a flat look. “You’ve been knocked out before, Burns, you know how shitty it feels afterwards. Does he really need to do a wrap up?”

Burnie grimaced, torn. “If he really can’t, then no, we don’t need a wrap up. But –”

Michael barreled from the small enclosure with a red face and stumbled to an unsteady stop in front of the two. “I can film a damn wrap up, Geoff. Christ – this whole thing shouldn’t be for nothing.”

Geoff looked unhappy but nodded. As he followed Burnie to the filming site, Michael vowed to tell Geoff about his slightly more serious injury after the video was completed.

His time in front of the camera was mostly spent staring at either Burnie or the lens with a doofy dumbfounded expression. The sun was blindingly bright in his eyes and suffocatingly warm on his skin, causing Michael to suffer in silent discomfort next to his lover and his boss’s boss. He lipped a few lines for the sake of the video and playfully pretended to chase Lindsay off the screen with his gun, but as soon as ‘cut!’ was called, Michael almost dropped from exhaustion.

Lindsay skittered off to the side, glancing over her shoulder to ensure that the redhead wasn’t following her and frowned when she say he’d slumped his shoulders slightly, seeming to cave in on himself. Panting, Michael lowered the gun; the weight was far too much for just one arm and his other was no longer responding.

Geoff was off to the side of the shoot, chatting it up with one of the camera crew as he chewed on a small cheese cube. He shot his two boys, injured and tired, a few glances now and again, but he was soon distracted by the arrival of Barb.

Michael frowned to himself as his eyesight began to twist sideways. Confused, he watched his vision drift to the side, the ground now becoming a wall to his right. He muttered a few curses, realizing that wow – he needed to talk to Geoff.

Now, please –

Gavin’s giggling laughing was loud in his ear suddenly as the Brit threw himself at the redhead with no warning. Michael had zero time to react before he was slammed to the ground, squished under the weight of his boyfriend. His arm – broken, bruised, and now probably bleeding – was trapped underneath his chest. He blacked out for a solid few seconds as the sudden flood of pain ambushed his neurons, ransacking his brain and leaving him without a single coherent thought.

Gavin’s weight was lifted off of him in milliseconds, though by who, Michael couldn’t say. He wondered distantly if he’d made a noise, if that was why they’d responded so quickly, but before he could even begin to question it, he was sitting up and having yet another light shined in his eyes.

Raising his good hand, he smacked it away, clutching at his forehead when it was knocked from the man’s hands. He heard a familiar nervous giggle off to his right and turned to see Gavin standing with Geoff and the rest of his boyfriends. Michael’s face flushed when he saw that the rest of the entire fucking company was stirring a few yards away. Michael had never been so thankful for Burnie’s leadership abilities – he’d managed to give Michael space before Michael had even realized he needed it.

“Sir? Sir?”

“Christ,” Michael mumbled, pulling away from the pushy guy crouching in front of him. “Go away.”

The man hesitated before asking, “Do you know your name?”

“Of course I do,” Michael huffed. He glared at the man challengingly before realizing that he was being checked for a concussion. Feeling nauseated and tired, he ground out both his name, the current president, and the date before the man could even ask.

“Do you know why you cried out for help?” the medic asked. Michael’s face went red and he rephrased his question. “Er – what hurts?”

Michael sent the others a glance before looking guiltily at the ground. “My arm,” he said. This time, he didn’t offer the man either one of his arms. Due to his rather defensive tuck of the appendage against his ribs, it wasn’t hard to guess.

The medic very carefully took Michael’s arm into his hands. He held it just above the elbow, gloved fingers careful in their inspection. When he felt downwards, he stopped as soon as he heard Michael’s sharp inhale.

“This will need an X-Ray,” he said after a moment of deliberation. “I think it’s broken. Did this happen just now?”

At the look of horror on Gavin’s face, Michael couldn’t possibly hold that over the Brit’s head. Knowing he’d be placing his own ass firmly over the fire, Michael shook his head and said, “No, I think it was when I fell… the, uh, second time.”

The medic looked confused, even as he waved over his other little blue-gloved friends. After giving them a hasty run-down of the situation, one of them scurried off to tell Burnie. The others just hovered around the original’s shoulder. “I thought you hit your head the third time?” he asked.

“It didn’t feel that bad,” Michael said, giving himself some leeway. “Maybe, like, a bruise or something…”

“Falling probably made it worse,” he nodded. “Alright. Hospital time. You’re probably gonna need a cast, so be thinking about the colors.”

Well, Michael thought. At least that won’t be hard to think about.

---

Turned out, he wasn’t allowed to choose the color of his cast.

He woke up with a pink one on.

It was the first thing his blurry eyes opened to see, the sight causing his nose to automatically wrinkle. Whatever pain meds he’d been given couldn’t mask the sense of annoyance he instantly met as soon as his brain began processing his surroundings.

“I might actually kill him,” he heard a voice murmur. “I mean… this has to be justified in a court of law, right?”

“No, Ray, sadly I think that would still count as murder.”

A flash of déjà vu struck him. He opened his eyes more and cringed against the bright lights of the hospital room. Frowning, Michael tried to recall when he’d fallen asleep, but the memory of shooting someone with paintballs was the last thing he could remember.

“Ah, sleeping beauty,” a rough voice groused. “Glad to see your upper brain functions are working, if not a bit slowly.”

“Eh, that’s still being debated over here, Geoff,” Jack called from somewhere in the room. He sounded marginally cheerier than the other men who had spoken so far, if not creepily so. Gavin had yet to speak, causing Michael to fully open his eyes and look around the room in search of the Brit.

Geoff was lounging on the edge of his hospital bed, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. The look in his eyes was something Michael couldn’t quite deal with at the moment, so he continued to some of the other gazes in the room.

Honestly, they weren’t much better. Ryan was sitting across from Ray in the table near the window, the two looking tired and desperately in need of a good punching bag. Jack was sporting the largest cup of coffee Michael had ever seen, which explained why his voice resembled a long-lost chipmunk brother. Gavin, interestingly enough, was sitting in his lap, legs slung over the edge of the chair ready to collapse under their weight.

None of them looked very impressed with him.

“Why am I here again?” Michael blurted in a bland tone.

Geoff looked surprised. After a long, stunned pause, he finally said, “I gotta say… out of everything, that was the last thing I was expecting you to say.”

“An apology would’ve been nicer,” Ray muttered.

“A promise to not be dumber than Gavin,” Jack supplied.

After sending the bearded man a heated glare, Gavin put in, “Maybe a warning next time?”

“Literally none of that answers my question,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, of course,” Gavin mumbled. “Why would he remember? That would be too fair, wouldn’t it?”

“I broke my arm,” Michael stated, bringing the horrendously bright pink cast up as if they weren’t aware of it. “My arm’s broken.”

There was a pause.

“I take back what I said about his upper brain functions working again,” Geoff groaned. “He doesn’t even have a concussion - he’s just stupid. Why are they giving him the good pain killers?”

“Probably because he was crying when we got here,” Ray suggested.

“I was not,” Michael automatically shot back. Contrary to their rather condescending words, Michael was clear-headed and lucid, if not slightly confused. His memory stirred after his sharp retort and a burst of understand struck him. He could physically feel the blood draining from his face. His face distorted into what could only be described as guilt. “Oh,” he drawled, the word going flat near the end.

“For all the ways that this relationship is depicted online,” Ryan said thoughtfully. “It’s funny how the fans seemed to think Gavin is the stupid one.”

“No, no,” Michael said quickly, attempting to stop the rising lecture. “Wait –”

“I agree, Ryan,” Geoff said loudly, easily cutting the redhead off. “It is funny. Because even though both men were placed in the exact same scenario, only one of them got hurt, and it definitely wasn’t the one the Internet expected.”

“It wasn’t the exact same scenario –”

“Well said, Geoff,” Ryan said loudly. Michael rolled his eyes and sat back against the hospital pillow, waiting for the two to finish their game. “I personally suspected both would come out with a few nicely shaped bruises. The broken arm was a real plot twist, though, lettme tell ya.”

“And you know what else, Ryan?” Geoff said in an exaggerated tone. “The real kicker is when the motherfucker didn’t say anything about the broken arm! Haha! Funny, isn’t it?”

Michael winced, waiting for them to quiet. “Did you finally run the joke into the ground?” he said cautiously.

Geoff’s face contorted. “When was it ever a joke?”

Michael’s never backpedaled so quickly in his life. “Not a joke, not a joke,” he said hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that. It was never a joke.”

Geoff shook his head. The fake cheery act had vanished within seconds, leaving a warm, sizzling pot of anger in its place. Michael wasn’t positive which he would’ve preferred.

“This relationship is going to give me gray hairs!” he suddenly shouted, startling everyone in the room. “In my beard, in my hair – fuck, maybe even my goddamn pubes! I can’t take it anymore!”

Michael felt his heart seemed to stall. “What?” he said hollowly. Everyone else was looking at Geoff in a similar blank, slightly frightened stare.

“This needs to stop,” Geoff said in a much calmer voice. He seemed to realize that everyone was still staring at him with terror in their eyes, he quickly said, “Not the relationship, you idiots. The miscommunication. The lying.”

“Well, that’s Michael’s deal,” Gavin said, pointing traitorously at the redhead. “He’s the one who can’t figure out how to ask for help.”

Michael could’ve throttled him, but before he could get a word in, Geoff was already talking. “Unfortunately for us, we love him and he’s part of this relationship, too, which means his baggage is ours.”

Geoff’s words carried a sharp sting in them. “Baggage?” Michael said with disgust. “Fucking baggage – fuck you, I don’t have baggage.”

Geoff was unsatisfied by his response and simply steamrolled right over it. “It’s bordering on some sort of weird fetish, Michael,” the older man said. Michael couldn’t help his snort. “Don’t roll your eyes at me – what, do you like getting hurt and not telling anyone?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Geoff,” Michael snapped, his smirk disappearing. “You know that’s not it. Just fucking drop it already – it was all Gavin’s fault to start with.”

Gavin made a loud scoff. “How was it my fault?”

“You fucking tackled me knowing I most likely had a head injury!”

Gavin faltered, paling slightly. “That has nothing to do with your arm,” he said waspishly after recovering, crossing his arms and glaring at Michael. “Stop trying to shovel the blame off on other people!”

“I’m not shoveling the blame, it was never mine to begin with,” Michael snapped at him before looking pleadingly at Geoff. “It’s not a fetish and it’s - it’s not the same as the rib thing, I promise. I didn’t even lie, I was just trying to find a good time to say it. You were in such a good mood!”

“Anytime after I walked into the tent would have been a good time to tell me, Michael,” Geoff growled. Michael could see that his fists were clenched on the bed sheet.

He swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry,” he said finally.

Geoff’s expression didn’t change. “Yeah, no shit. Michael…” he seemed to be at a loss for words. After a long moment of staring into the redhead’s eyes, Geoff finally seemed to gather the thoughts together. “You need to realize that I’m not fucking around anymore.”

Michael’s brow drew together in confusion. “I don’t -”

“You’ll see what I mean. But you’re making it very hard to trust you.”

“I was going to tell you!” Michael said hotly.

“When? Days later? When your fingers had started to turn blue?” Geoff said scathingly, firing off the questions as if he’d thought of them while Michael was asleep.

Michael spoke without thinking. “When I felt like it,” he said bitingly.

Geoff’s eyes narrowed and Gavin made an audible noise of disbelief. Glancing around, Michael realized he’d just said something… so, so wrong. Ryan was gazing at him with what looked like pity, while Jack and Ray were shaking their heads.

There was a long moment of silence. Geoff did nothing but stare calmly into russet eyes, expression shut off and distant. Michael held his breath and waited for the tattooed man to tear into him.

“I’m going to call a nurse and get your release forms,” Geoff said finally, voice utterly devoid of emotion. He stood up from the bed and walked mechanically out the door, shutting it behind him with barely a noise. Michael stared after him before looking to his other lovers desperately.

None would meet his eyes.

---

The ride home was surprisingly normal. Gavin attempted to steal Michael’s car seat before the redhead could struggle inside, but after smacking him firmly on the ass with the blunt of his cast, the Brit quickly made his way to the back of the van. His arm ached for a while afterwards, but Michael sat happily in his original sea with a smug smile on his face. It was easy to ignore the sullen expression on Gavin’s face and the cold one on Geoff’s. Ryan, at least, treated him normally enough, even leaning over to peck him on the lips halfway through the ride. Jack was too busy calming Geoff, a large hand rubbing soothing circles into the tattooed man’s tense shoulders. It was a pleasantly average car ride, similar to the ones to and from work, and Michael’s painkillers were starting to really kick in. He sat and talked to Ryan with a dopey smile for the majority of the ride.

Once they got home, all men dispersed. Michael sat on the couch and reclined in the middle cushion with his legs up on the table. It didn’t feel like just that morning he’d been playfully unloading round after round of small balls of paint into Gavin’s ass. And yet somehow, it’d been him that had ended up hurt.

He flipped on the TV and was content with sitting alone for a few hours as the rest of his boyfriends bumbled around the house. Ray came to join him a little after five, sliding into the spot next to Michael and wrapping his arms tenderly around the redhead’s waist. Michael welcomed him gladly and curled his good arm around the brunette’s shoulders. Gavin joined not long after that, peeking around the corner and brightening up when he saw that there was the beginning of a Lad’s cuddle session happening on the couch. He practically slammed into Ray in his haste to join, laughing and apologizing as he moved off the Puerto Rican. Taking the spot on the other side of Michael he placed his head on the redhead’s lap and smirked up at him. Rolling his eyes, Michael returned a grin.

They watched four episodes of It’s Always Sunny before Jack finally called for dinner. Gavin scrambled over the back of the couch, spouting something about being starving after such a tiring day, but Michael and Ray were slower to follow. Ray yawned, stretched, and reached up to give Michael a kiss on the corner of the mouth before he fully rolled off the redhead’s lap. Michael copped a feel before the brunette was out of reaching distant and chuckled at Ray’s flirty wink.

Okay, so he didn’t mess up too bad, then. It wasn’t nearly as tense as the dinner had been after he’d come back from the hospital last time. Though, it was admittedly less of an injury as well. The cast was heavy and annoying, and his head was still faintly light-headed, but it was nothing compared to having to carefully watch his every move. There was still a scar where he’d gotten surgery, and if that wasn’t a downer to see every time he took off his shirt, he didn’t know what was.

They ate dinner in a comfortable atmosphere, despite Geoff’s silence. Burnie called halfway through to ask about Michael and Geoff had seemed embarrassed that he’d forgotten to keep him up to date. Michael eavesdropped as well as he could, but he got the feeling Gavin was purposefully trying to draw his attention away. Before he could tell the Brit to shut up, however, Geoff was already sitting back down at the dinner table and slipping the phone back into his pocket.

Bed was a much awaited event. Michael had never been happier to crawl into bed, the many aches and pains in his body alleviated the instant the sheets caressed his skin. He’d stripped down to his boxers tonight, but the sight of the purple and red welts on his stomach almost convinced him to put a shirt back on. He ultimately decided against it, knowing that his lovers wouldn’t be seeing them anyway. It was dark outside and he was planning on stealing the middle spot.

He jumped out of his skin when the light was suddenly flicked on. Groaning, he pulled the comforter over his head and mumbled a drowsy, “Turn off the damn light!”

“Sit up,” Geoff’s voice instructed. Michael stiffened where he lay.

He slowly looked out from under the sheets to stare at Geoff. The older man was waiting impatiently, eyebrow raised and hands on his hips. Michael glared at him.

“What?” he demanded.

“Sit up,” Geoff repeated in a crystal clear, short tone of voice. It made Michael’s hackles rise. The presence of the other four boys lingering in the doorway, watching excitedly, only encouraged him to challenge Geoff.

“Why?”

Geoff started towards him and Michael couldn’t control his body’s automatic reflex. He sat straight up, glaring heatedly at the tattooed man. Geoff wasn’t even looking at him, instead eyeing his stomach with an unhappy frown. Glancing down, Michael realized he was staring at the small purple bruises. He covered them with the blanket.

Geoff swallowed heavily. “C’mon, Michael,” he said in a shockingly soft voice. He held out a hand. “Just for a moment.”

Michael automatically reached out to take the offered appendage, reeling when he was suddenly pulled from the bed. He stood after a moment and rubbed his eyes, grumbling annoyed curses under his breath. Geoff’s gaze had softened immensely after he’d caught sight of the paintball marks. Why, Michael wasn’t sure - they weren’t nearly as bad as the broken arm.

Geoff’s warm hands steadied him by the biceps and held him at a distance as his sharp gray eyes ran over the expanse of Michael’s pale body. Flushing slightly under the intensive gaze, Michael started to pull away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Keeping my promise,” Geoff murmured. Letting go of the redhead’s biceps, he ran careful fingers down the length of Michael’s arms. He skimmed over the cast without acknowledgement and instead switched focus to his right. He bent the elbow, felt along the muscles, just barely squeezed the joints before testing them out - it took Michael an embarrassingly long time to figure out what the man was doing.

“You’re not serious,” he snapped, jerking his arm back and clutching it to his chest as if Geoff had harmed him.

“Deadly,” Geoff said shortly, seeming to forget about his arm. He moved upwards without skipping a beat, briefly massaging the firm, meaty part near the edge of his shoulders before running his thumb along his collarbone, fingers digging lightly into the skin of his back. Michael went still as fingers felt along his neck, softly tilting his head up so he could smooth across the line of his jaw. Michael looked anywhere but Geoff’s scrutinizing gaze.

As soon as Geoff’s hands released his jaw, Michael glared up at the older. “I know what you’re doing,” he informed him with barely suppressed anger.

“I’m glad you can remember back that far,” Geoff said sarcastically, burying his fingers in Michael’s hair to feel along his skull. There was a bruise above his right ear, but Geoff skipped over it as if he knew it was there.

“Geoff, this is ridiculous,” Michael said, but he was beginning to lose steam. Exhaustion was heavy in his bones, even the broken one, and he was close to falling over.

“Yep,” Geoff agreed easily, tugging lightly on Michael’s ear as playful payback. He stepped back slightly to get a better look at the redhead’s chest, leaning slightly in order to smooth his hand over the skin. Michael shivered slightly when he brushed over his nipples, but there was nothing sensual about the touch. It felt distinctly like a physical - the medical once over Geoff had promised him months ago should he have a repeat performance.

Geoff didn’t disappoint.

He felt along the redhead’s ribs with what felt like trepidation. It wasn’t just Michael in the room who was holding his breath. Geoff’s efficient movements faltered when he reached the long, pink scar, his fingers grazing the injured skin with reverence. It tickled slightly and a phantom pain nipped at the edge of his mind. Michael could remember that day so vividly, the bright shade of red splattering one of his hands as he coughed up blood into his hands flashing across his vision. But then Geoff was moving away to his pelvis and he could breathe again. Geoff knelt in front of him and Michael was able to see over his head, the expressions of his other boyfriends slightly haunting. He hadn’t been alone in that unpleasant memory.

Geoff started to tug down his boxers, causing Michael to sputter and immediately snatch his tattooed hands up. Geoff looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“That is definitely not necessary,” Michael pleaded, dropping the other’s hands.

Geoff seemed to debate for a long moment, hand resting casually on Michael’s backside. Taking mercy on the redhead, Geoff shrugged and said, “Alright. There’s not much they can hide anyway.”

Michael breathed out a sigh of relief as Geoff continued down. Big hands didn’t hesitate to feel in between his thighs, however, and the sensation made his legs go weak. Geoff ignored his hitch of breath and inspected his skinned knees before making sure his calves were uninjured. He finished up quickly, recognizing the sleepiness in the redhead’s eyes, and stood up. Pushing Michael back to lay on the bed, he bent to look him right in the eyes.

“This will be fun,” he told him with a shark-like grin. “I will check you over every damn night before bed for as long as I deem necessary. Got it?”

Michael’s gut was sent into flurries. Oddly enough, the idea wasn’t completely unpleasant. He was sure that once the most of the anger was gone from the man, Geoff would be easily seduced during any one of these exams. He hesitated in his initial protest and instead smirked, nodding in agreement. Geoff studied him with an eye of doubt before pulling away to undress. The rest of the boys figured it was alright to come into the room and slowly began peeling off clothes as well.

Sighing with happiness, Michael scooted to make room for the other five men on the bed. They were absurdly careful with him, which was annoying as hell, but he didn’t dare complain. He may’ve accidentally hit Jack once or twice with the obnoxiously pink cast while they were adjusting, but it was alright.

Michael thought it was normal.

Every touch laid upon his pale skin, every mark that came to mar his flesh, every harsh word spoken in the dead of night, whether it was about a failing grade or his very existence – all of it, Michael thought, was well-deserved. It was all he knew. How was he supposed to know it wasn’t normal, it was right, when it was what he was raised into?

He did something bad, he got punished.

It made perfect sense.

Only when he was sixteen, did he realize that this wasn’t normal. His friends, few and shitty as they were, did not come to school hiding bruises under their sleeves. They did not spout lies about not knowing where the cuts came from, how the circle-shaped burns appeared ‘mysteriously’ in abstract patterns up and down his arms. Michael liked to console himself with the weak truth that came with saying well, I don’t know where that one came from because occasionally it was true. He didn’t remember where that particular bruise or cut came from, which concerned him in its own right, but it made his words sound a little more believable.

Looking back on it, he probably could’ve saved himself a lot of scars if he’d just sucked up his pride and called child services. He had enough proof – he was the proof. Roll up one sleeve and his parents would be arrested within minutes.

But instead of saving himself and exposing his parents’ wrongdoing, he was even more frantic to hide the marks, to hide the embarrassment, the pure weakness. What kind of pathetic, frail, sorry excuse for a man was he when he couldn’t even stand up for himself at home? He couldn’t explain it, especially to himself, what happened in his brain when he crossed the threshold of what was every other kid’s safe haven. As soon as he was through the doorway, his strong will shriveled up somewhere near his gut and he was once again the curled up four year old cowering in the corner of his bedroom praying that his dad was feeling generous, praying that he would only leave a few bruises in places he could hide.

It was fucking pathetic, and Michael wasn’t about to let anyone see that.

High school was the worst. It was a harder place to make friends, so Michael went through the years without any. He liked to tell himself that it was actually better this way, because then he didn’t have to make up absurd excuses for why he couldn’t go out with them. He stayed out well into the morning hours most nights if only to escape the hands of his father and words of his mother, and honestly, the quiet time with his own mind as he sat by the lake or on the hill was worth the sleepless nights. Heaven knows he didn’t get any at home.

By senior year, he wasn’t really sure how he was still alive. He’d been kicked out of school for missing too many days and his body was beginning to seriously suffer from so many years of abuse not only from its parents but from its owner. Michael wasn’t exactly keen on keeping himself fed or taken care of. It was a little hard to when his parents ate all the food and the fridge was always used for storing drugs.

If irony came in any form, it was his parents’ drug dealer. Her name was Griffon, and Michael was pretty sure she was the only human on the planet who had a speck of care in her heart for him. He looked forward to when she came over, not because of the little bag strapped to her hip like his parents, but because she often had food for him, and maybe some kind words, though his parents would fucking kick his ass when they found him talking to her. She stopped coming around when he was first kicked out of school, but he still remembered the stories she would murmur to him while stroking his hair; stories about other worlds, stories about what happened after death, stories about magic and fantasy, stories about soulmates and lost love, stories about better places and good feelings. Some stuck with him more than others, and some even turned into dreams late at night when he was sleeping on a park bench or the pile of trash bags back behind his house.

He cherished those stories. They were his only relief, the only getaway he was allowed, even if it was only for a few hours. His favorite was the soulmate one. That someone in the world was perfectly made for you, and you were perfectly made for them. He had dreams about it, but it was a different person each time. He never saw them very clearly, but each had a very distinct feel in the way they treated him. One was playful and giddy, one was joyful and doting. One was a bit competitive but fun, and another was attentive and passionate, the last protective and a bit overwhelming. All very different interactions with him. All with love.

It was so disappointing to wake up. He wished he could just be asleep forever, with his imaginary people. Griffon had filled his head with tales of random details about their soulmates – how their heartbeats were always in synch. How their dreams were shared, their minds connected by the invisible thread that tied their hearts together. She mentioned that their physical bodies were also bound, that the small scars and scores on your body were marks that your mate received directly. Michael sorta hoped that one wasn’t true – if it was, he would be one shitty soulmate, butchering his partner’s body like that.

When Griffon disappeared, with her she took the fun out of his daydreaming, but he clung to the few. He wanted desperately to believe that she hadn’t told him lies. He wanted love, even if he didn’t deserve it. He wanted better places and good feelings, even if he wouldn’t know what to do with them.

He needed something more than this.

He found it in a weird place.

---

Three months after his eighteenth birthday, Michael made debatably the stupidest decision of his life.

Standing in front of his closet, Michael felt a dull sort of sadness reverberate through his bones. The shirts to pick from were few in number, each one serving as a grim reminder of where he’d got it from. Most were stolen. Only one was ever given to him, and it was a gift from Griffon.

He plucked that one out first, calloused fingers gliding over the smooth, black material. He hadn’t worn it since trying it on the first time, where Griffon had demanded he put on a short fashion show. She hadn’t commented on the tears in his eyes, but criticized his walk before showing him how a runway strut was really done.

Purely for a sentimental value, he folded it carefully and placed it at the bottom of his bag. He knew he wasn’t going to wear it, preserving his favorite shirt for as long as he could, but he wanted it with him. It meant a lot more than all these other shirts, the few dangling from hangers littered with holes and stains, but those were the only ones he felt he should wear.

He shoved those in the backpack before moving onto the pants strewn across the trash-covered floor, picking up his second pair of blue jeans and tossing them in. His only other pair was the one he was wearing.

“Fucking hell,” he cursed when the zipper got stuck on his bag. He jerked at it violently, clipping his index finger in the process. “God dammit.”

Giving up halfway through, Michael slung it over his shoulder, tucking it safely behind him and snorting at the fact that this small, red backpack held all of his personal possessions. He could hear the hydrogen peroxide sloshing around in the bottle when he turned towards the door, steeling himself for the shitstorm about to occur.

He had to shoulder his way through the opening, two foul-smelling black trash bags propped up against his door. The smell of weed and a faint chemical-like odor was thick on the other side, Michael’s nose crinkling as he fought back a gag. Waving smoke away from his face, he climbed his way to the living room, tripping and stumbling his way over the designated ‘trash area’ that his parents set, conveniently right outside his bedroom door. He supposed it was better than his actual room, though that wasn’t much to boast regardless. His ‘room’ consisted of… well, nothing. There was no furniture, no posters on the walls, and no glass in the window. There were bars, however, a cruel joke played on him to trap him inside but unable to escape whatever type of weather drifted in. Living in Jersey, most of it was rather cold.

The front door was hanging open, just barely hanging onto its hinges. A cold breeze rocked it from time to time, but his parents seemed utterly disinterested as they lay sprawled out on the couches. Michael grabbed his shoes from the front door and pulled them on, the Converse fitting a bit loose.

His mom’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his shuffling. Brown eyes rolled around wildly around the room before landing on her son, and a nasty grin spread across her face, her meth-yellowed teeth peaking out from behind her bloody and cracked lips.

“Where you goin’?” she grunted out, voice hoarse. Her arm flopped off the couch, fingers searching against the carpet for the needle just off to her right. They closed around it and she brought it close to her face, squinting to see if there was any liquid left.

“I’m leaving,” Michael answered, tying his shoelace tightly. He wondered if she was so out of her mind that she couldn’t see the backpack.

“Ha,” she snorted, digging the needle into the crook of her red-dotted elbow. Michael cringed. “Good luck with that, faggot boy,” she said, waving. “You’ll make it real fucking far.”

“Thanks,” Michael said bitingly, and even after all these years the words still managed to sting.

“I hope you die,” she sighed, closing her eyes as the drug worked its magic. She gave a rather repulsive moan. “Then we won’t have to see your fucking ugly face ‘round here anymore. Weight off our back.”

“Right,” Michael said, tying the other shoe on. His shaking fingers fumbled with the lace.

“Little shitstain,” she muttered. “Where ya gonna go, huh, faggot? Gonna go under the bridge? Get paid to suck off fucking homeless people? I bet, you faggot. You fucking disgusting freak – you make any money blowing old men, you spend it on drugs, dontcha? Get face-fucked you fucking – where you going?”

Michael slammed the door behind him, ignoring how it just bounced off the frame and hung open once more. His mother continued to scream at him, and he ducked out of reflex when something hit the door, glass shattering and speckling the ground next to him. She’d thrown the needle. He almost laughed.

“Whatcha gonna do now, dumb bitch?” he yelled, heart pounding. With his anger fueling his words, the Jersey accent was thick in his tone. “That was your last one, unless you wanna get an infection again! And this time you won’t have me to fucking nurse you back to health!”

She fell silent. Michael could hear her scrambling around, most likely to find either another needle or something else to throw at him. He quickly ran to the chain-link fence that closed them off from the rest of the shitty neighborhood and climbed over it, groaning when the seat of his jeans got caught on the stray wires. He heard fabric ripping as he fell onto the concrete on the other side. The pain of his elbows colliding with the rough ground didn’t even faze him as he clambered to his feet.

“Ouch,” he said mindlessly, reaching his hands back to make sure his backpack was intact. Satisfied, Michael glanced back at the shack that was his home for his eighteen years of life. It was sad, but he felt no connection to the broken down structure. He walked away without much hesitation.

“I’m not going to the bridge,” he told himself, shaking his head. “Why would I ever go there? I don’t want to get mugged of my four shirts.”

He ran a hand through his overgrown hair, moving it out of his eyes. In all truth, Michael had no clue where he was headed. He’d tried this before, back when he was eight. He made it to the neighborhood over before realizing he was going to die out there alone and came back. He’d received one hell of an ass beating and hadn’t made a repeat performance.

Squinting through the darkness, Michael studied each little shithole of a house and was happy to see that no lights were on. His mother’s screaming was nothing new. In fact, everyone in this neighborhood was probably just as high, if not more so. There had been two overdoses this month alone.

It was freezing out. The skin of his arms was covered with goosebumps as he walked down the sidewalk, gazing listlessly around to see if someone was going to approach him. He heard the local scroungers shuffling around in someone’s trash nearby, but the streetlight was too dim for him to see past a few feet in front of him. He shivered and pulled his shirt closer to him, the material hanging off his thin frame not providing much insulation.

“Maybe I’ll look for Griffon,” he muttered, licking his chapped lips. He narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular. “Maybe I’ll find a jacket.”

Find, of course, meant steal. It sounded better aloud, however, if he just said find.

As he walked out of the slums, he continued to talk to himself. It was a bit of a talent of his, that ability to keep up a continuous conversation with basically no one. It was learned from years of experience; Michael knew that if you looked batshit crazy, such as talking to yourself or acting generally insane, no one would bother you. Crazy didn’t mess with crazy.

“Hey, kid.”

It didn’t work with everyone.

Michael jumped and whirled around. He was in town now, mindlessly looking into each of the stores’ windows, not planning to break in or anything, but letting his mind fantasize about what he could buy if he had money. Someone had crept out from behind him, having been standing in the gap between two of the stores. Tall and looking a little lumpy under his winter coat, he looked Michael up and down with a lecherous grin.

“I’m not buying,” Michael said flatly, watching as the man’s eyes narrowed, his grin vanishing.

“I ain’t selling,” the man snapped, tucking his hands in his pockets. “The fuck’s the matter with you, kid?”

Michael watched him saunter away, knowing it was a rhetorical question. Rolling his eyes, he continued down the strip of stores, peering in each window and probably looking extremely suspicious. His thin-threaded shirt was doing a very poor job of keeping his body warm and soon his teeth were chattering, muscles quivering from the cold.

He spent a lot of time outside of the house. He knew where the local drug deals went down, knew where to look if he wanted to ask about his friend. That in itself, however, could very possibly be dangerous. He knew he looked like a bit of a punk – if someone came around asking for a drug dealer, it would look extremely shady. He didn’t look like the killing type, or the revenge type.

The park was deserted when he got there. Not surprising – it was nearing three in the morning.

“Everyone knows most of the drug deals only happen at two,” Michael said smartly to the empty air around him as he took a seat on a bench. The bench, where everyone knew to go for the good stuff. He breathed in the fresh air and savored it, his lungs working harder than a normal eighteen year old’s to get as much as the oxygen in as possible. Years of being subjected to second-hand smoking had probably just ruined his respiratory system.

He bit his lip when the sun began to rise. Maybe he’d been stupid to turn down the guy who’d approached him earlier. He was fairly sure that that man hadn’t been associated with the local dealers, therefore unhelpful to his efforts, but it had could’ve been a start.

“I could go to the bridge,” he murmured, rubbing his dry eyes. The words made his insides tighten. That was mom’s suggestion, and even if she wasn’t here, he was still reluctant to prove her right.

“What are you doing here?”

Michael spun around, shock blocking the words in his throat. He hadn’t heard that voice in months, and even looking at her made his stomach drop out his asshole. He stood up from the bench in a hurry, as if the wood had burned him through his clothes.

She’d shaved the side of her head since he saw her last. The septum piercing was the same as always and glinted in the clean morning light, but the frown she had while looking at him cut Michael deeper than anything his mother could ever say.

When he did nothing but stare at her in wonder, she had to repeat herself. “What are you doing here, Michael?”

“I – I was looking for you,” he said through chattering teeth. She looked at him with concern before shrugging out of her jacket and tossing it to him. He shook his head, but she cut him off with a stern glare. He struggled into it, the warmth much welcomed and calming his jumping skin.

“You shouldn’t be sitting on this bench,” she said angrily, crossing her toned arms.

“Why did you leave?” Michael asked bluntly, looking at her desperately. Her eyes softened.

“Your parents stopped buying from me,” she said evasively.

“Bullshit, they bitched about having to find someone new for weeks,” Michael argued, his voice shaking. “You left.”

Griffon shook and bowed her head, looking at the ground. “I couldn’t sell to them anymore,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. But it was easier for everyone.”

“It obviously wasn’t,” Michael said in a hurt tone. His heart was beating wildly. He suddenly forgot why he ever wanted to find her, even while knowing she wanted nothing more to do with him. He floundered for words before realizing what was plaguing his heart. “I – I wanted to thank you, actually.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Thank me?”

“I’m leaving,” Michael said. Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m eighteen. They can’t stop me anymore.”

“Michael –” she started in a warning voice, but Michael interrupted her.

“I’m thinking Texas,” he said, smiling to himself. “It’s not cold down there. Austin is a lot nicer, isn’t it?”

“And how do you plan on getting down there?” she asked, and Michael was surprised to hear fear in her voice. Looking at her closely, he realized she looked scared.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “Maybe hitchhiking. Maybe sneaking into the bed of a truck. We’ll see.”

Griffon shook her head. “Terrible idea,” she snapped. “That will get you shot.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Michael demanded, and he was asking for an answer. A real one. “Fucking live with them for the rest of my life? I’m an adult now – I can start new, somewhere else!”

“You were dealt a shitty hand,” Griffon said calmly, arms still crossed. Her hands gripped at her biceps as if she were itching to hit something. “But running away –”

“Fuck you,” Michael said angrily. “’Running away’ – I’m not running away, I’m fucking leaving!”

“Hey,” she said sharply in a tone that instantly made Michael quiet. “Don’t talk to me like that. The last thing I am is your enemy.”

He nodded in agreement, keeping his head low.

“Going off some place with no money, no real clothes, and no plan is stupid and dangerous,” Griffon said. “Is that what you came here to do? Tell me you were off to go and kill yourself?”

“Why are you so bitter towards me?” Michael shot. Her eyes darkened. “You – you left, what else am I supposed to do? This is my best option.”

She sighed, uncrossing her arms to place her hands on her hips. Shaking her head, she said, “No, it’s not. Come with me.”

He followed her obediently, fighting back the excitement budding in his brain. He appraised her carefully, noting that she was looking a little thinner since the last time he’d seen her. She had two more tattoos decorating her hands and favored her right side as he walked forward, leading him into a near town. He bit his tongue to hold back the many questions he ached to ask. She was clearly not thrilled to see him.

“How’ve you been?” she asked suddenly, not turning around.

“Uh –” he hesitated, unsure of how to answer that. Terrible? Sick? Miserable? “Good… I’ve been good.”

She was quiet for a long pause. “And your parents?”

He gritted his teeth. “Same old.”

She didn’t say anything.

“How are you?” Michael asked.

“Busy,” she said vaguely. “Lots of art being sold.”

“You’re not dealing?” Michael said, unable to keep the happiness from his tone. He could see her flinch from over her shoulder; she’s always known that he hated her career choice.

“Not as much,” she answered. “I’ve been working a lot with spray paints, actually –”

And she was off. Michael smiled as he listened to her familiar rambling, letting the words he didn’t really understand wash over him as she chatted excitedly about her most recent painting. Her voice was lyrical and melodic, the motherly type that Michael had never known. Maybe that was why he’d grown so attached to her. The thought made him feel silly and a little embarrassed, especially since she’d just picked up and left without caring. He tried not to hold it against her; she had just been doing her job.

“Michael?”

“Huh?”

He refocused his gaze on her, realizing she must’ve asked him something since she was looking over her shoulder at him.

“I said are you hungry?”

“Oh,” Michael said, feeling a pang in his chest at the echo of the first words she’d ever said to him. “Yeah,” he said, knowing she’d feed him even if he said no.

Stopping, she dug around in the pockets of her oversized cargo pants before pulling out four granola bars. He plucked two from her grip, but she shoved the rest of them in his hands, too. Grumbling, he shoved three into his back pocket and unwrapped one, devouring it in a minute flat.

This time as she resumed walking, Griffon walked next to him. She eyed him carefully, probably making sure he ate, which wasn’t really an issue. Michael had moved past the stage of hunger, skipped over the hunger pangs, and dove directly into that empty-gut feeling, accompanied by a bit of weakness.

“I met someone,” she said abruptly, staring at the side of Michael’s face. He glanced at her in surprise.

“Really?” he said after swallowing his mouthful. He grinned at her. “Who is it? Are they nice?”

“Not like that,” she laughed, and the noise made Michael’s insides warm. He swallowed thickly.

“Well, that’s generally what that means when you say you’ve met someone,” Michael grumbled, cheeks pink.

“You didn’t let me finish,” she said, grinning. “I think you’ll get along with him. I’d like to introduce you.”

Michael gave her a funny look. “You didn’t even want to see me a few hours ago,” he pointed out.

She frowned. “That’s not true, Michael, you know it’s not. It’s not that I didn’t want to see you – I – you’ll understand. I just couldn’t sell to your parents knowing that you lived there.”

“Would it have made a difference if I lived somewhere else?” Michael questioned, slightly irritated. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “And you had to just up and leave. You didn’t even say bye, or that you weren’t coming around anymore.”

“I didn’t know that would be the last time,” she said quietly, glancing at him before quickly looking away. “We’re here,” she said, opening the door to a shop in the corner of a small plaza. Michael looked around, confused.

“This is it?”

“Yeah, and it would be nice if you hurried up and got inside,” she said pointedly, waving Michael inside before closing the door behind them both. She flicked the lights on, revealing what looked like just an average bar, with a long wooden slab cutting off the back quarter of the room and many tables covering the floor.

He sighed in relief. It was toasty in here, and he was glad to give Griffon her jacket back. She hesitated before taking it, however, and after giving him a long look, she said, “Keep it. I got plenty.”

He didn’t argue, shoving it in his mostly empty backpack before following her back behind the bar.

“Is it okay to leave it unlocked?” he asked, eyeing the door. She shrugged.

“Should be fine. Now c’mon. You look homeless dressed like that.”

“I am homeless,” he said, but his heart skipped a beat at the prospect of new clothes, specifically pants. She must be doing extremely well money-wise to be giving away free shit.

She led him in the far back of the building, turning into what looked like a long hallway. He stared at it, confused. It looked nothing like the rest of the building, all oak walls and two doors at the far end. She unlocked the bedroom and he trailed after her cautiously, watching apprehensively as she dug through a drawer in the dark. His eyes didn’t adjust until she turned on the light. He stared around dumbly – it was a bedroom, complete with a twin-sized bed, two boxes supporting a lamp and charging station for a phone, and a chest of drawers sitting tucked in the corner.

Griffon inspected a few different articles of clothing, sniffing each before tossing him a large, thick tee shirt that smelled faintly of male’s cologne and deodorant. It was clean, but Michael had a feeling it belonged to someone by the scent engrained in the fabric. He held it at arm’s length as if he might infect it.

“Whose is this?” he asked, wrinkling his nose, though it didn’t smell bad at all. If anything, it actually smelled quite nice.

“Yours now,” she said simply, closing the top drawer before digging around in the one underneath it. Grinning to herself, she unraveled a large pair of pants and threw them at him, too. “Also yours.”

“Whose are these?” Michael demanded, barely catching the pants. “And these are way too big.”

“Not for long,” Griffon said, sounding determined and standing up. “Hurry up and change – and stop looking at me like that. Geoff won’t mind – er, uh –”she faltered, obviously not having meant to say the name. She grimaced but didn’t say anything more.

Michael made a discontented sound, but couldn’t refuse the offer of clean clothes. He shifted from foot to foot as she stood there, looking at him expectantly. “I’m not changing in front of you,” he said awkwardly, heat rising to his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Sounds fucking familiar. Okay, but I’m right outside the door.”

Michael sighed when she left, closing the door behind her. He made quick work of stripping from his dirty, ratty old clothes and got goosebumps of pleasure when finally in the new ones, the feel of soft cloth on his skin foreign yet comforting. The smell surrounded him and honestly, he wasn’t going to complain. He embraced it, pulling the neck of the shirt up to press it to his nose and inhale deeply.

The pants were indeed extremely baggy. He had to clutch at the waistband to keep them up. Creeping up to the door, he muttered through the wood, “Grif –”

She barged in, smacking him in the shoulder with the door in the process and scanned him up and down, hand on her chin and frowning. “Definitely needs a belt,” she decided. “I don’t think he has any smaller sized jeans than that. Are you good on shoes?” she asked, all the while critically eyeing his footwear.

“My shoes are fine,” Michael said hastily.

“Mm,” she hummed, pulling a belt out of the third drawer and offering it to him. The look in her eyes was startlingly soft. When he hesitated, she gently asked, “Do you know how these work?”

She wasn’t even kidding.

Michael snatched it, feeling a blush rising to his cheeks. “Of course I do,” he said. He’d never actually used one, but it had to be simple enough.

She started laughing at him when he just fastened it messily over the waistband. He stopped fidgeting with it to glare at her until she moved forward to help him, knocking his hands out of the way to unbuckle it and start weaving it through the loops. Michael flushed in embarrassment and muttered a quiet, “Oh.”

“There,” she said, backing up and looking at him. She smiled. “You look so cute.”

“Shut up,” he mumbled, but smiled dopily with her.

Beaming at him, she gestured for him to come with her out of the room. “Let’s get some food.”

She cooked him eggs. Michael had never had them before, but before he knew it, he was already on his fourth plate of the scrambled mush. She watched with a sad smile, happy to make him as much as he wanted, but the vigor in which he ate probably seemed pathetic. As he began to slow down, she slid into the barstool next to his, her own plate stacked high.

“Why Texas?” she asked a few minutes into a comfortable silence.

Michael twisted his mouth. “It’s warm,” he said through a mouthful of food.

“So is Florida, or Georgia, or a lot of state. California is quite nice,” she said, looking curious.

“I don’t know,” Michael said, shrugging as he shoved another forkful into his mouth. “I just like the idea of Texas. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Had a dream about it, too.”

She hummed and nodded, taking another bite, much tamer than Michael’s. “I’ve been to Texas,” she said casually. Michael looked at her. “It’s lovely. Rolling hills, very green. A little hot, but it’s a dry heat.”

Michael didn’t even know what that meant, but nodded in appreciation. “How were the people?” he asked.

“Nice,” she said. “Very nice. Especially in Austin. Is that where you were planning to go?”

“That’s the capital, right?” he said uneasily, unsure of whether or not he was right. He didn’t want Griffon to laugh at him.

“Yep.”

“Then yeah, I think that’s where I want to go,” Michael said, smiling dreamily. His stomach was starting to ache from so much food and he pushed away the half-eaten plate.

Griffon was quiet as she finished the rest of her meal, looking contemplative with each bite. Michael leaned back in his chair and groaned, the feeling of his stomach being full unfamiliar and a little uncomfortable. He stretched and sighed in comfort, sleepiness tugging at his tired eyes.

“What’s that from?” Griffon suddenly asked, sounds abruptly cross. Michael glanced at her and followed her gaze to his elbow, a small stain of blood blooming in the fabric of the borrowed shirt. He paled.

“Oh – shit, I ruined it. Griffon, I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s fine, I already told you its yours,” she said, sounding annoyed he hadn’t answered her question. “I’ll get you a new one, one that’s not blood stained. What’s that from?”

“I just fell over the fence last night,” he explained. “It’s always locked ‘cause they lost the key.”

She looked dissatisfied with his answer and pushed away her empty plate. Hopping off the stool, she poured two large glasses of ice water and handed one to Michael.

“Will you sleep here?”

Michael bit his lip. “Well,” he said slowly. “You’re not going to make me go back or anything, are you?”

Griffon didn’t look at him, busying herself with stirring her water pointlessly. They both watched in dull fascination as the ice shifted around.

“No,” she finally said. “You’re eighteen now. There’s nothing I can do if you don’t want to do it.”

Michael wasn’t a huge fan of that answer, but it was better than her saying yes. He wished she supported him in his decision. “Then yeah, I’ll sleep on the floor or something –”

“Funny,” she said dryly. “C’mon, dork. And bring your water with you, I’m doing not doing that ‘can you get me a glass of water’ bullshit.”

Michael grinned and slid off the chair, clutching his untouched drink to his chest as he trailed after Griffon, his heart feeling oddly warm. She shuffled him into the small room and rolled her eyes at the clothes he’d left all over the floor.

“Really?” she asked sarcastically, bending down to pluck them off the floor. “Don’t make me pick up after you.”

“Sorry,” Michael smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. She rolled her eyes again.

“If you sleep in the nude, you should probably tell me.”

“I don’t,” Michael said heatedly.

“Good. I’m sure Geoff wouldn’t mind, but I don’t think you’d appreciate being walked in on,” she said jokingly, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a genuine smile, and despite her teasing words, Michael couldn’t help the smile he relayed back to her.

“Shut up,” he said kindly, stretching out on the warm comforter.

“Where’s your backpack?” she asked, looking to where he pointed at the corner of the room. He didn’t mind her digging through it, but cocked his head in confusion when she pulled out the bottle of peroxide. She pulled a rag from her back pocket and sat on the bed right next to him, her weight causing him to lean to the side.

Without speaking, she rolled up the oversized sleeve of his right elbow and narrowed her eyes at the large scrape. It was bloody and scabbing over, but he was almost positive there were bits of grain and grit in the wound. He was proven right when she started to wet the rag with water from his glass.

He didn’t protest as she gently cleaned the wound, even when the scabs were ripped off. He hissed when she poured peroxide over it, but she made it quick. She briefly left to go get a bandage before starting on the other elbow.

“You’re a mess,” she said fondly. She patted his stomach as she stood from the bed.

His eyes were already starting to drift closed. “Th-thanks, Griffon,” he whispered, the words hard to get out.

As the door creaked closed, he heard her laugh flutter into the room. “Sleep tight, Michael.”

---

For a long, blissful second, Michael woke up without knowing where he was.

It definitely wasn’t home.

He blinked up at the textured, cream-colored ceiling in fascination, wondering whose room he was in and why it smelled so damn good. He was warm, a rarity in itself, and laying on something soft. His stomach didn’t rumble. His back didn’t hurt.

It took him a while to recognize the emotion swirling around in his gut. Happiness. It made him grin, especially as his memory eventually floated back to him. He heaved a great sigh and rolled over, curling up in the sheets and burying his face into the thick blanket, inhaling deeply to breathe in as much of the scent as possible. It was warm and comfortable, and the feel of silky sheets against the skin of his arms and legs was something Michael had never experienced.

“Shh,” he heard a voice hiss and popped open his eyes. “You’re going to wake him up.”

There was a low chuckle. “Too late.”

Michael rolled over and sat up quickly, squinting at the two figures standing at the edge of his bed. Sleepiness blurred his already fuzzy vision, but he was able to make out that one of them was Griffon, her stance wide as she stood with her hand planted on a cocked hip. The other was a tall male about in his mid-twenties, maybe thirties, with inked-up arms and dark hair. Michael felt a tingle run down his spine as he stared at him, his brain having trouble processing the scene playing out in front of him.

“Mornin’, Michael,” Griffon said easily, not moving from where she stood. She seemed frozen.

“Uh –” Michael said, looking at the man.

“This is Geoff.”

“Geoff,” Michael echoed uncomprehendingly. The name made his tongue prickle. His eyes widened. Geoff.

He hastily scuttled from the bed, already missing the warm and comfort once he was out from under the covers, but the name made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. As he stood next to the bed, he became aware he was also wearing the man’s damn clothes.

Instead of acknowledging Geoff’s amused smirk, Michael glared at Griffon. “What the fuck,” he hissed, cheeks bright red. His eyes probably screamed how could you do this to me because Griffon laughed and shrugged.

“What? It’s his room, technically,” she said.

“And my guest bed,” Geoff said, forcing Michael to look at him in order to not be rude. Michael may’ve had to raise himself, but he knew basic manners. It was surprisingly easy to meet Geoff’s piercing gaze, the grey orbs misty and focused on Michael.

“She – she didn’t say you would be here,” Michael stammered, gesturing helplessly at Griffon.

Geoff laughed, and it was a shockingly pleasant sound. “He sure is quick to throw you under the bus there, Griffon.”

She just shrugged good-naturedly.

“That’s not what I –”

“It’s fine, kid,” Geoff said dismissively, waving his hand in the air. “Quit looking at me like that.”

Michael looked away, instead staring at the carpet. He felt hot with shame; he’d been caught sleeping in a complete stranger’s bed. It was similar to being caught stealing something, which Michael had been many times.

This was so much worse.

Geoff murmured something in a low tone to Griffon who laughed and nodded. “Yeah,” she said in a normal volume. “Not as much when you get to know him.”

“What?” Michael blurted, curiosity overriding his nervousness.

“Are you hungry, Michael?” Griffon asked, directing the conversation away. “It’s two in the afternoon,” she said in response to his silent question.

“I’m not really hungry,” Michael said half-heartedly. With how he’d eaten before, he wasn’t sure he’d be truly hungry for another two weeks.

Griffon hummed, not looking convinced. She grabbed his hand without hesitating and dragged him out of the room, Geoff following behind and closing the door after them.

“Griffon,” Michael hissed. “I can’t believe you –”

“I told you he didn’t mind,” Griffon told him firmly.

“And I don’t,” Geoff said loudly. Michael cursed. He had excellent hearing; they were all the way across the room, whispering.

Michael’s eye twitched as Griffon sat him down in a stool and began to make him food again. He didn’t recognize it from the smell, but it made his stomach rumble. He pushed his palm against it, a little weirded out that he was eating so much. He was going to get spoiled, and then when he was out on his own again, it was going to be harder to adjust.

Geoff sat next to him, tattooed arms supporting his weight on the counter. Michael couldn’t help but stare, transfixed at the beautiful work. There were lines and curves of varying thickness, interlocking and intermingling to create a perfect spiral down his bicep and curling down his forearm. There was a large Band-Aid covering his elbow, but it didn’t hide much of the mystery.

Michael must’ve been staring more blatantly than he realized.

“You like?” Geoff asked him teasingly, and Michael had to tear his eyes away. He looked up at his face instead.

“Tattoos are cool,” Michael said awkwardly, turning to look at Griffon as she worked. He’d always admired the work done on her arms. She used to let him study them for hours, tracing some of the more intricate ones and asking about the symbolism of others.

Geoff smiled. It wasn’t quite as cocky as it had been before. Soft around the corners and made his cheeks pop.

“What the fuck is this,” Michael said blankly when Griffon placed two plates of something that looked like long strips of multicolored meat. Geoff was already digging in, grabbing the odd flaps by the handful and just shoving them into his mouth. They sounded crunchy. Michael was wary to touch them, but his stomach gurgled loudly in protest.

Geoff seemed to choke on the food and had to cough repeatedly to clear the blockage. Eyes watering, he looked down at Michael in amazement. “You’ve never had bacon?” he said incredulously.

Michael shook his head, a little annoyed at his obvious disbelief. He bit back a malicious retort. It wasn’t exactly like he’d had the chance for luxuries like fresh food.

“Eat it,” Geoff encouraged, sounding excitedly. “Let me see euphoria cross your face.”

Michael gave him a funny look but couldn’t fight the smile as he reached to grab a single flabby strip, grease making it slip a little in his grip. He brought it to his mouth and bit off a good mouthful, eyes widening as his mouth filled with saliva at the delicious flavor. Geoff laughed from beside him, Griffon joining in not long after that.

Michael’s plate was empty in seconds. Geoff even spared him a few extras from his, which Michael greedily took. There wasn’t much time for conversation and Michael found himself beginning to relax in the two’s company.

He’d had orange juice before and thanked Griffon when she placed a glass in front of him. The school he’d gone to served it in little shitty cups, full of clumpy bits that made Michael a little nauseous swallowing. This stuff was much better, smooth and tasty, leaving Michael licking his lips and looking at Griffon accusingly.

“You’re fucking spoiling me,” Michael said regretfully, placing his empty glass on the countertop. Griffon snorted.

“You’re impossible to spoil,” she told him. “You barely accept anything. It’s a miracle you’re here at all.”

Michael looked down. He wasn’t sure what he was doing here anymore, to be honest.

Geoff frowned and traded silent looks with Griffon. Michael could feel the displeasure emanating off of the man next to him. “Those clothes don’t fit very well,” Geoff said, bluntly changing the subject. “You’re probably closer to Ray or Gavin’s size.”

“Who?” Michael asked.

“Friends of mine,” Geoff explained, standing up from his chair and giving a moan of happiness. He patted his belly. “Damn, Griffon, that was good. Thank you.”

“No problem, Geoffrey,” Griffon grinned. “Next time you can do the cooking.”

Geoff laughed and nodded agreeably. Michael looked between the two. They seemed like more than friends, but for some reason the thought made Michael’s stomach twist.

Geoff glanced at him. “I don’t think I have any of their stuff here,” he said. “But I do back home.”

It was a weird offer, one that made Michael’s face contort in confusion. “Er – no thanks,” he said haltingly. “But, uh, actually Griffon – thank you, you know… for everything. But I should probably go. It’s a long way to where I think I wanna go.”

“Where do you want to go?” Geoff asked, but the way he asked it made Michael think he already knew the answer.

“Austin, Texas,” Michael answered.

“Good,” Geoff said, nodding. “Then you can come with me.”

“What?” Michael said, utterly confused.

“I live in Austin, idiot.”

“What?”

“Close your mouth,” Geoff laughed, reaching forward to do it himself, placing a finger under Michael’s chin and tilting it up. His fingerprint felt burned into Michael’s skin.

“You live in Texas?” Michael demanded before looking at Griffon. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I’d saidthat I’d been to Texas, didn’t I?” Griffon said, eyes twinkling.

“I didn’t think you meant –” Michael cut himself off, face feeling hot. “God, it’s like a fucking puzzle with you, constantly. You always do that stupid thing with wording –”

“Talking?” Griffon said, raising an eyebrow.

“Speaking in riddles,” Michael said bitingly.

Both Geoff and Griffon laughed, but Geoff quickly sobered in response to Michael’s growing agitation. “Let me help you, Michael,” Geoff said sincerely. Michael’s heart fluttered with the way Geoff said his name so fully. “A – a friend of Griffon’s is a friend of mine.”

Michael saw Griffon shoot a wary glance at the tattooed man. Geoff pursed his lips at own stutter but looked expectantly at Michael, the yearning look in the gray orbs making it hard for Michael to refuse. He bit his lip.

“You’ll drive me there or whatever and then what?” Michael said nervously. “Can you drop me off at a soup kitchen or something?”

Geoff did not look happy with that, but he seemed to have been anticipating such a response. Cringing, he shrugged half-heartedly, nodding and saying, “I don’t know any personally, but I’m sure I could find one. Is that a yes?”

Michael glanced at Griffon, who nodded encouragingly. She looked apprehensive and Michael realized it was because she wasn’t sure if he was going to take the offer or not. It made him feel guilty.

“Wouldn’t you come with?” he asked, sounding a bit desperate. As much as he liked Geoff so far, being separated from Griffon made his palms sweat. He’d only just found her again, and she wanted him to travel across the country with a stranger?

She shook her head, looking sad. “I’m sorry, Michael, but I can’t. My job needs me up here.”

“But you were just down there, weren’t you?” Michael said hotly. His fists clenched.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “For an art trade. I can’t go now.”

Michael just looked at her pleadingly, but he already knew she wasn’t going to budge. She looked genuinely apologetic.

Geoff grumbled and Michael looked at him. His tattooed arms were crossed, lips pushed out in a cute pout. “It’s not like I’m terrible to travel with,” he said with a frown.

“I don’t even know your last name,” Michael pointed out.

Geoff grinned. “It’s Ramsey. Now c’mon, Jones, let’s go get your things packed.”

“Right now?” Michael said, alarmed.

“Flight leaves in an hour.”

Michael paled. “What, like an airplane?”

“No, like a bird,” Geoff said with a small smile. It widened when Michael glared at him with narrowed eyes.

“You’re kind of a prick,” Michael said, fighting back a grin. He liked Geoff – the older man was oddly uncomplicated to be around. He did nothing to raise Michael’s hackles as newcomers often did, if not completely putting Michael at ease. It was all too simple for Michael to relax in his presence.

Flying, however.

“I don’t want to go in an airplane,” Michael said forcefully.

“Really, now,” Geoff said. “Have you ever been in one?”

“No, that’s the reason I’m not flying. A big metal can hundreds of feet in the sky? Funny joke.”

When Geoff gave him a dubious look, Michael just shook his head. “Nevermind. Thanks for the offer, but there is absolutely no way in hell that I’m flying on an airplane.”

---

“How’d you get him on the airplane?” Griffon asked, voice muffled with barely concealed laughter over the phone. Geoff grinned and clipped his seatbelt together, tightening it so the strap fit snugly against his stomach. Holding the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, he reached over Michael’s snoozing body and yanked on his belt, making sure it was firmly clasped together.

“Didn’t take but one sleeping pill and he was out like a light,” Geoff said casually, smiling politely at the flight attendant as she passed. She pointed to the phone against his cheek and he nodded. “Gotta go, Griffon. I’ll call you when we land in Austin.”

“Bye, Geoff; don’t introduce him to everyone at once because that’ll frighten him, he’s lactose intolerant, and don’t let Gavin bully him,” she said hastily.

“Got it, not all at once. No milk. And no dumb Brits,” Geoff said, rolling his eyes. “Bye, Griffon. Be safe.”

Her voice turned serious. “You too,” she said quietly before hanging up. Geoff gazed at his phone sadly before turning it off and pocketing it, glancing around to see the cart lady coming down the isle. He looked at Michael, studying the redhead’s face as he slept.

He was cute.

A part of him was selfishly happy to have finally retrieved Michael, but another was more domineering; it was finally explained to him, through the words of Griffon, why he had bruises sprout on his skin with no identifiable source. And then, why they were mirrored on strangers he’d met with Burnie and Griffon’s help. Michael had been the last piece – Geoff was sure of it.

He was beginning to realize that Griffon had been right from the start.

But he’s cute, Geoff thought to himself, smiling. He loved freckles. They were hard to see, but Michael’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose were covered in the light brown specks, spreading down and fading off near his chin. His lips were curved and bowed – undeniably adorable.

“Can I get you a drink, sir?” the cart woman asked, shocking Geoff out of his reverie. He looked up at her. “Or your friend?”

“Jack and coke,” Geoff said, hesitating to order for Michael. “And a – uh – orange juice.”

She raised an eyebrow, but nodded and poured him the drinks, placing both of them on Geoff’s tray since Michael was asleep. She handed him an ice cold soda before wheeling the cart away.

He sighed as he poured his glass, feeling the plane begin to shift in the air. They’d taken off and Geoff hadn’t even realized, too busy with staring at Michael. He had to calm down. If he kept acting like this, Michael was going to disappear in the middle of the night, and Geoff didn’t think he’d really blame him. According to both Griffon and his own phantom bruises, Michael had known nothing but abuse and neglect all of his short life. It wouldn’t surprise Geoff in the slightest if Michael vanished under his nose without hesitating. It had to be hard to trust after a life like this.

Geoff was probably not helping by drugging him to get him on the plane, but once he got Michael to Austin, it would be infinitely easier to talk to him. He wanted to introduce Michael to his ties, the people he’d been unknowingly inflicting injuries on, and do it in the kindest way possible.

He took a long drink from his glass, feeling the whiskey in his cocktail burning as it slid down his throat. Not sure if Michael was going to properly wake up during the flight, he shook free two pills from his pocket and crushed them up into a fine powder before mixing them into the thick, pulpy liquid. He would be prepared.

It was two hours later that Michael finally stirred. A weak whimper spilled from his mouth, causing Geoff to glance sharply at him, having been staring mindlessly at the back of the seat in front of him. Michael’s eyes fluttered open and he stared hazily at his knees, chin on his chest.

“Hey,” Geoff said quickly snatching up the rather warm orange juice and holding it close to the redhead. “Michael – how do you feel?”

“Nyeugh,” Michael moaned, licking his lips. He barely seemed to have enough energy to raise his head, but managed to turn his head to stare at Geoff, blinking slowly. Geoff wondered if he recognized him.

Geoff felt guilty even as he offered the small plastic cup. “Here, buddy,” he said lamely. When Michael didn’t even move, Geoff’s hand continued forward to place the edge of the cup at Michael’s lips. He bit back a snicker when he was able to tilt the drink back and dribble it into Michael’s mouth. The redhead didn’t complain.

Geoff was wheezing with laughter when Michael rolled over and fell back into a deep sleep. Crumpling up the empty plastic, he tossed it on the tray and wiped the tear from his eye.

He was still giggling to himself as they landed, but quickly quieted when he realized he’d have to carry Michael off the plane.

---

This time waking up in an unfamiliar place wasn’t quite so pleasant.

Michael felt a powerful shiver rip through his shoulders, waking him up instantly. He bolted upwards, hands tangled in a wooly blanket that he hadn’t seen before. Head throbbing, he gasped aloud at the pain and shoved his palms into his eyes as if that would rid him of the affliction, but it only succeeded in causing stars to burst behind his eyelids. Throat dry, he coughed roughly for a few seconds, and feeling as though his muscles had crystallized under his skin, he stumbled off the bed, heart pounding as he fearfully reached out in front of him, knocking shit off the shelves lining the wall and hearing the glass shatter on the tile flooring. He stepped on the shards and yelped in pain, the sound seeming to bounce around in his skull.

Using the wall to stabilize himself, Michael hopped on one foot to check the damage, his stomach sinking at the sight of blood. His feet were one of his most valuable asset - without them, he couldn’t go anywhere.

“Five seconds,” a low voice said from the doorway. Michael looked up to see Geoff glowering at him, walking gingerly. “Five seconds you’ve been awake and already –!”

“What the hell did you do to me?” Michael growled, edging backwards. He put his injured foot on the floor and ignored the pain.

“Calm down,” Geoff ordered smoothly, raising his hands. His face twisted into a guilty grimace.

“Where am I?” Michael demanded, voice cracking. His hands shook as he gripped the dresser, knuckles turning white. He already had a feeling where he was, and it sent his stomach spiraling in dread.

“You’re in Austin,” Geoff said soothingly. “Where you wanted to go, right?”

“Did you fucking drug me?” Michael asked, trying to snuff the fear from his voice. “You’re a psychopath! Did - did Griffon know -?”

Geoff’s expression seemed to freeze. “I didn’t drug drug you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It wasn’t like chloroform or anything,” Geoff said nervously, picking at his fingernail and not meeting Michael’s venomous glare.

“Griffon said I could trust you,” Michael said hollowly. Eyes alit with fury, he pushed away from the dresser and shoved Geoff in the chest, the tattooed man bouncing off the hallway wall in shock. Storming past him, Michael limped as fast as he could, cursing his clumsiness as he went.

“Michael,” Geoff called, and Michael could hear him thudding after him at a speedy pace. “Michael, wait -”

“Where the door?” Michael snarled, whirring around. He raised his eyebrows in confusion when he saw that Geoff was limping in a similar fashion. “What’s wrong with you?”

Geoff gave him a weak glare, but Michael could tell there was no real heat in it. “Let me explain,” he panted, looking pained. “Stop - stop!” he said sharply when Michael began to back up nervously. “Michael, c’mon.”

Michael frowned at the pleading note in Geoff’s voice and hesitated. He was trembling in an odd mix of terror and rage, but something about how Geoff made him feel made the redhead want to listen.

Geoff took the opportunity. “I just helped you fly down here, is all. We couldn’t drive and I knew you were too stubborn to accept any other way.”

“Why bring me down here at all?” Michael challenged. “I - I’m only eighteen, I could’ve stayed with Griffon and be fine -”

“Roomies with a drug dealer,” Geoff deadpanned.

“It’s better than staying with my parents,” Michael snapped. Geoff’s eyes softened immensely, and oddly enough, it made Michael backtrack. “I just - I just want to start fresh.”

“Do that here!” Geoff said excitedly, displaying his palms in a wide gesture. Michael eyed him warily. “Griffon loves you, Michael, she does. But she wants you to get away from that life.”

“I want to get away from that, too,” Michael murmured, his throat beginning to tighten. “I never asked for it in the first place.”

“I know,” Geoff said gently. He reached out a hand; a peace offering. “Let me help you. I - I want to.”

“Did Griffon ask you to?” Michael asked. For some reason, the thought made his stomach clench. Maybe he was just desperate for human contact that didn’t involve a fist or stinging words, but he wanted Geoff to be friends with him. No – he wanted Geoff to want to be friends. It was sad and pathetic, but Michael couldn’t force back the hope budding in his heart when Geoff shook his head, his gray eyes soft.

“She clued me in,” he said. “But I’m doing this of my own accord. I want to help you, Michael.”

Michael couldn’t help the question. “Why?”

Geoff hesitated, looking stuck between two answers.

Infuriated, Michael spat, “I want the truth, don’t look at me like you’re deciding whether or not to lie.”

Geoff licked his lips. “Because I think we’re - well… Let me ask you this first.”

Michael looked at him searchingly, but the pain in his foot was beginning to distract him. He could feel blood smearing on the floor beneath his sole, and his hiss of pain was heard by Geoff, whose eyes darted downwards before flicking back to Michael’s face.

“C’mere,” Geoff gestured, waving Michael forward. “Let’s get that cleaned up. And then I want to show you something.”

Michael swallowed, but obeyed his heart’s demands. He limped forward and allowed Geoff to sling his arm over the tattooed man’s shoulder, and the two made quick work of walking to the bathroom. Michael had never seen such a clean sink. Geoff made him sit on a white porcelain toilet, propping his foot up on Geoff’s lap while the tattooed man sat on the edge of the bathtub. The younger of the two blushed furiously, finding the position strange and rather intimate.

“How do you manage to do this to yourself?” Geoff grumbled, wetting a washcloth with the tub’s faucet before carefully raising Michael’s foot. He inspected the appendage with a frown. “There’s glass in there for Christ’s sake!”

Michael half-heartedly yanked his foot back as a warning. He narrowed his eyes at Geoff. “If you aren’t going to do it, I gladly will,” he said, reminding the older that he’d protested this from the start.

Geoff withheld his comments, biting his lower lip to supposedly stop them from slipping out. “How did you meet Griffon?” he asked instead. “Did she sell you weed or something?”

“No,” Michael said firmly, frowning at the spark of offense ignited in his chest. After watching the downwards spiral his parents had been subjected to after trying their first hit of coke, Michael promised himself he’d never do that to his body or mind. It turned them into more a more vicious version of the monsters they’d already been.

“Then how did you meet her?” Geoff asked, sounding confused. After wiping the wound with a warm washcloth, he picked up the tweezers from the counter.

“My parents bought from her,” Michael said coolly, flinching when Geoff started to extract small slivers of glass.

Geoff’s expression darkened. “Oh,” was all he said about it before moving on. “You made pretty good friends with her. She talks about you a lot.”

“She hasn’t spoken to me in a few months,” Michael said sourly, though the words made him smile. “We were friends.”

“You are friends,” Geoff corrected. “She had to leave in a hurry. No time for a goodbye.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael whispered, voice strained. Geoff glanced at him before setting the tweezers back on the counter, their tips slightly bloody. The redhead’s foot was burning.

“Sorry,” Geoff said, looking down. “Can you hand me the antiseptic?”

Michael glanced at the array of differently colored bottles before looking at Geoff blankly. None of them looked like the one he had inside of his backpack. “Um.”

“It’s the brown bottle,” Geoff said quickly.

After handing it to him, Geoff spoke quietly as he wet a small cotton ball with the fluid. “She told me she used to tell you stories,” he prompted, looking up at Michael.

It was unreasonable, but Michael felt a pang of betrayal. Griffon sure liked to tell her friends of the private memories they shared. “Yeah,” Michael said dully, wincing as he pressed the soaked cotton up against his cut. It stung, but he wasn’t a stranger to pain.

“She used to tell me stories, too,” Geoff continued. “Stories about underwater people, volcanoes, the marked lovers, and even talking animals.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Some were more ridiculous than others.”

One in particular piqued Michael’s interest. “Marked lovers?” he questioned, looking curious.

Michael could see his mouth quirk up in a smirk, but the tattooed man didn't look up. "I like that one, too," Geoff said quietly. There was a long pause, in which tension tightened the air seemingly from nowhere. Michael shifted in discomfort. "I have these friends," Geoff said suddenly.

"Good for you?" Michael said awkwardly.

"I went to high school with two of them," he continued, ignoring Michael's sarcastic quip. "Jack and Ryan. I took a hard tackle while playing backyard football one day in sophomore year. Ended up with a broken arm. So did Jack and Ryan."

“Um-”

"And senior year," Geoff said, steamrolling over Michael. "Jack drove into a pole outside of a local 7-11. He ended up with a broken nose. So did me and Ryan."

"Okay, but-"

"And three years ago," Geoff continued thoughtfully. "I woke up with a blackened left eye - but hey, I tended to get a lot of injuries without remembering them anyway. I wasn’t talking much to Ryan or Jack at that point in my life - was a little weirded out by them, honestly - but I'm a curious motherfucker. Went to see 'em, and sure enough, they had one, too."

There was a long pause, but Michael didn’t attempt to get in a word this time. The words were frozen somewhere in his throat, the gears in his mind clicking and working together as he tried to understand Geoff's underlying hint. Geoff, for his part, didn’t seem to be waiting for a response from the redhead, simply absorbed in his story. His hands worked methodically to wrap Michael' foot.

"I didn’t say anything to either of them," Geoff said, sounding sad. "But as I was driving back from the bar Jack was drinking at... I saw a skinny, kinda weird-looking dude with a giant nose and poofy hair. He was walking down the street and had a huge, nasty black left eye.”

“Oh,” Michael said weakly. It was all he could manage.

Geoff nodded as if in agreement. “I stopped and pulled over immediately. Slowly got out of the car and ran after him on the street.

“He didn’t believe me at first. I wouldn’t have either, but earlier that weak, I’d gotten a paper cut on my index finger. This time I actually remembered getting it. Gavin… Gavin didn’t remember getting his.”

Geoff looked up, gray eyes bluntly meeting brown ones without flinching. Michael’s breathing seemed to stop.

“You broke your arm sometime when you were younger,” Geoff said, and the blanks began to fill. “Your nose was broken a few years after that. But… you got the black eye. You remember that one… don’t you.”

What?

His mouthed moved on autopilot. “You’re making this up.”

Wordlessly, Geoff shook his head and held up his elbow for Michael to see. He peeled the Band-Aid off to reveal a large scrape. It was obviously cleaned and already cared for, but it looked familiar. Still utterly silent, Geoff waved a hand to indicate for Michael to stretch out his arm. Hesitantly obeying, he yelped when Geoff yanked off the small strip of gauze Griffon had fastened there.

At this point, Michael was unsurprised.

“They’re the same,” Geoff said softly, the look in his eyes reminding Michael of the one in Griffon’s when she’d murmur her stories to him.

Michael shook his head, mouth hanging open. “No, no, no,” he said, laughing nervously and tugging his arm gently out of the tattooed man’s grip. “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to accomplish here, but – but it’s not working. Are you done? With that?” Michael said quickly, gesturing to his foot even as he pulled it away.

“Michael –”

Standing up suddenly, Michael gave a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head in a manic motion. “I think I’ll be going to that soup kitchen now,” he said firmly, nodding to himself and biting his lip. “Sorry – and thank you for, uh… getting me here, I guess. Not really, because you, like, drugged me against my will, but you paid for my plane ticket, so…”

Geoff frowned but allowed Michael to leave the bathroom in a flurry of panic, the redhead’s voice wobbling slightly. Hesitating outside of the restroom door, Michael grudgingly allowed Geoff to lead him back to the bedroom. His backpack was sitting in the corner and Michael sighed in relief, snatching it up and clutching it to his chest.

There was still a heavy grimace on Geoff’s face as Michael walked by him. “Door?” the redhead suggested carefully.

“What?”

“The exit,” Michael clarified.

Geoff narrowed his eyes at him in thought, seeming to mull over the idea of Michael leaving. Michael swallowed thickly. Fear crept into his voice as he said, “I want to leave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Geoff muttered. He finally shifted from his statue-like pose, brushing by the redhead as if angry. Michael knew he was just bitter and followed him, hoping that the tattooed man wasn’t going to force him to stay.

“Sorry,” Michael said awkwardly.

“I just wish you were different,” Geoff said, disappointment blatant in his tone. Michael’s gut seemed to shrivel up at the words, his heart stuttering when pain ripped through his chest. Eyes widening, he opened his mouth to spit scathing words at the older man, to defend himself, to explain why he was like this, to say something, but the words vanished into mist on his tongue, the taste left sour and tasting faintly of ice.

His feet carried him on automatically. The house was at least four times larger than Michael’s home, with well furnished hallways and a pleasant lack of mold. It smelled like Geoff with a few other distinct scents mixed in and suddenly Michael was wishing he was staying. Stuffing down the confusing thoughts, Michael blinked when he realized he was standing in the doorway. It was daylight outside, an unfamiliar heat washing over his back when Geoff opened the door.

He was going to let him leave.

Why did Michael feel disappointed?

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Geoff asked, pursing his lips.

He hesitated, glancing one more time at the house behind him. It had a warm feel to it, something Michael had never been exposed to at his house in Jersey. A coil of dread was forming in his stomach, tightening with every passing moment Geoff waited for an answer.

“Why did you tell me all of that?” Michael demanded abruptly, glaring up at Geoff, who looked surprised. “To scare me? Guilt me? Into what – staying? What do you want from me? Labor or something –?”

“Geez,” Geoff muttered, placing a hand firmly on the top of Michael’s head and effectively cutting off the redhead’s building rant. “Calm down. You sure know how to get yourself riled up.”

“Shut up,” Michael snapped, ducking out from Geoff’s hand.

“I told you that because it’s the truth,” Geoff said. “I – can’t you feel it? I can’t be the only one who feels it.”

Michael didn’t say anything.

“No one wants to bring it up,” Geoff muttered, and Michael suddenly got the feeling that this thing Geoff was trying to wrestle was a lot bigger than just him. Squinting his eyes at something to his right, Geoff spoke out of the side of his mouth. “No one knows what is it, except for you and me; we’re the only ones who Griffon told that ‘story’ to. She’s really into that sorta stuff, the soulmate crap and all. I’ve known her for a while and she’s always been so eager to find her own. She went to New York to find him or her. Came back with… different news, instead.”

Geoff sighed, closing his eyes. “She calls it linked, instead of what it is. Me, you… the others… we’re all linked.”

“Soulmates,” Michael whispered numbly.

“Soulmates,” Geoff echoed.

“I woke up with a broken nose in elementary school,” Michael said, and his eyes stung. “I didn’t know how I got it or where the blood came from.”

Geoff was quiet, allowing Michael to slowly open his mind up to the idea.

“I think it was preschool or something… I don’t know how it happened, but I was… fighting with my dad and my arm broke. Nothing happened to it – he didn’t touch it. I didn’t hit it on anything. And it didn’t feel like I broke it, really, it just hurt – a different kind of pain. It was weird.”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, voice trembling. “And three years ago, I got hit in the eye with a bottle so hard that it bled. It was my fault, but it stayed there for fucking weeks.”

Geoff was still, completely frozen as he listened. Michael wanted to scream, to punch, to push the man in front of him for connecting some of the dots for him but creating even more for Michael alone to figure out. To have the puzzle filled in with nonsensical meaning was infuriating. This shit wasn’t real.

“This can’t be real,” Michael said, thoughts spilling from his mouth in a weak dribble. His tone was desperate – begging. “Geoff. This isn’t real.”

“There’ve been studies on it,” Geoff said, but he sounded just as lost. “It’s not as out-there as you think, but it’s still pretty unbelievable.”

“But what you’re saying is that all these other people, too,” Michael said in a hush, as if those other people might overhear. “What were their names? Jack, Ryan, and Gavin?”

“And Ray,” Geoff added. He winced when Michael send him a withering glare.

“Who are they?” Michael demanded. “How am I supposed to be… linked with five other guys? Ugh my mom was right – I’m a faggot -”

Geoff frowned and sharply said, “We don’t talk like that here.” His tone left no room for argument, so Michael quickly moved on.

“Sorry,” he said hastily. “But five other guys? I don’t even know you for Christ’s sake.”

“You do know me though,” Geoff said gently. “You’re already talking to me like we’ve known each other for years. Can’t you notice?”

“I talk to everyone like this,” Michael brushed off.

“Alright, well I’m talking to you like I’ve known you for years,” Geoff said, frustrated. “Don’t sit there in denial and tell me you don’t feel anything towards me.”

Michael licked his lips. “Well,” he said awkwardly. “I mean, you’re attractive and all - but I’m not in love with you or anything.”

“I don’t expect you to be,” Geoff said, shaking his head. He looked contemplative for a short moment before grinning and effectively breaking the tense atmosphere with, “Not yet, anyway.”

The line was so cheesy that Michael had to smile. Playfully smacking Geoff on the arm, he laughed. “I don’t know,” he said, smiling. “You’re kind of a prick.”

“So are you,” Geoff said affectionately. Michael’s heart sped up at the words and his smile widened.

“Did you expect anything different?” he said weakly. “Anyone who drives into a pole in front of a gas station has gotta be an asshole. There’s a trend here.”

Grinning, Geoff reached forward to ruffle Michael’s hair in a lighthearted display of reprisal. “Damn,” he sighed. “Now we gotta deal with another accent around the house. Gavin’s gonna love that.”

Michael flushed. “Gavin. When am I going to meet him? Or them?”

Geoff’s face brightened. “Does that mean you’re staying?” he asked.

Michael sighed, glancing over his shoulder. It was a lovely day out, albeit a little hot. The grass was duller than it had been in Jersey, but was plentiful regardless as it covered the front lawn. He’d never been inside of a house that belonged to such a good neighborhood, where all the doors were closed and the cars in the driveways weren’t broken down or belonging to drug dealers.

“Yeah,” Michael hummed. “I’m staying.”

---

Geoff was nervous.

Geoff was very nervous.

Michael’s wide brown eyes were trained on Gavin like the Brit might attack him, hands clenched at his sides as if in preparation for a punch to be thrown. His jaw was visibly clenched, grinding sound beginning to set Geoff on edge. While it felt like a lifetime, Geoff had only known this man, this kid, for less than a day. He knew that he’d been abused growing up by the awful sacks of ever-loving shit that should have been his parents, but he wasn’t sure how the redhead was going to react to Gavin’s rather intrusive inspection. He certainly didn’t look thrilled.

Gavin, however, resembled an eager dog as he excitedly checked Michael out, hazel eyes lit with an insatiable curiosity with questions of Geoff, how did you find him and he’s short, like Ray, that’s so top! He was unstoppable in his investigation, and though Geoff knew it was purely filled with good-intentions, Michael seemed to be expecting something like rejection. Geoff bit his tongue, knowing that for Michael to be completely soothed, he’d have to hear it straight from Gavin’s own mouth.

Michael almost lost it when Gavin reached towards his face. He flinched, shrinking back slightly when the Brit’s long fingers brushed his cheek. Gavin paled and immediately realized his mistake, jerking backwards as if Michael might snap at him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Gavin said quickly, cheeks pinking with embarrassment. He glanced and Geoff, but the tattooed man simply looked pointedly at Michael. Apologize to him, dumbass.

“Sorry, Michael,” Gavin offered, smiling sheepishly. Michael blinked owlishly at him, his own face blushing red.

Goddamn.

“It’s like watching a soap opera,” Geoff announced, shaking his head.

Michael ignored him in favor of leaning towards Gavin, craning his neck to look into the Brit’s big eyes. “Gavin.” He stated.

Gavin’s eyebrows rose at the plain statement. “Yes.”

Geoff and Gavin held their breath as Michael stared at the latter, brow furrowing in thought as his chocolate eyes traced complicated paths around Gavin’s face, clearly inspecting the older man. The Brit was quickly shrinking under the redhead’s heavy scrutinization and Geoff could almost laugh at the confused look in Gavin’s eyes.

Michael suddenly smirked.

“You do have a big nose.”

Geoff burst into laughter, the sounds of Gavin’s sputtering interspersed with Michael’s giggling. After catching his breath, Geoff grinned when Gavin looked at him accusingly.

“You have one thing to say about me and it’s my nose,” Gavin said, shaking his head with a frown. “Typical. I hate you.”

“I said more,” Geoff said defensively, unable to keep the smile off of his face as he glanced at Michael.

“He does have poofy hair,” Michael allowed, appraising Gavin thoughtfully with a finger on his chin.

Gavin grumbled sour words under his breath as he pushed down on his hair, the spikes unrelenting. Geoff rolled his eyes, knowing that Gavin styled it that way on purpose - though Gavin probably hadn’t suspected he’d be meeting the last of his links today.

“So you…” Gavin said, clearly struggling to form his thoughts in a non-offensive way. “So you get hurt a lot.”

Michael’s eyes darkened and Geoff could see when he visibly withdrew from the conversation. The link between them was an odd one, but Geoff could feel the abrupt coolness that began to emanate from the redhead.

“Yeah,” Michael said shortly. He fiddled with the hem of his oversized shirt.

Gavin waited patiently for an explanation, frowning when he realized one wasn’t coming. He then bluntly asked, “What’s that about?”

Michael looked up, seeming surprised that Gavin was so forward, but not unpleasantly so. Eyebrows raised, he said, “I lived in a bad neighborhood.”

Gavin glanced at Geoff as if needing confirmation, but the older man just looked back at him. Gavin needed to figure out how to act around Michael on his own; Geoff couldn’t help him or else it would strain the relationship that the tattooed man was desperately hoping would grow.

Gavin didn’t realize that they were soulmates, instead being under the impression that they were linked. They more or less meant the same thing, and Geoff was fairly sure that Gavin felt something more than friendship towards all four of them. He was hoping today it would turn into all five of them. Theoretically, he shouldn’t have to push for anything, as they all had the potential for love. That was what soulmates meant, Griffon had said.

Their souls already loved each other.

Honestly, Geoff thought that half of it was bullshit, but as of right now, he was desperately hoping that was the case.

Glancing anxiously at his watch, Geoff’s stomach dropped when he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to keep one of Griffon’s promises. Gavin had been down at GameStop all morning, giving Geoff enough time to explain to Michael that no one else knew they were soulmates but they had a feeling about it. Michael had seemed understandably nervous but agreed to not mention being anything more than friends, as the subject was still a touchy one. The redhead’s timing couldn’t have been worse; his arrival was smack in the middle of a crucial point in their relationship.

But now it was approaching late afternoon and the rest of the guys would be coming home in only a few minutes. None of them had any idea that Michael was here. It made Geoff’s gut twist in knots to think that Michael was going to have to meet his three other soulmates all at once. Meeting Gavin had already been tense enough.

“You’re cute,” Gavin suddenly said, causing both Michael and Geoff to look sharply at him. The Brit seemed confused at his own words, but surprisingly unembarrassed. “You’re bloody adorable, actually.”

Michael flushed red, causing his many freckles to stand out. “Shut up,” he mumbled.

“Can I touch your hair?” Gavin asked excitedly.

“Gavin,” Geoff said sharply, but Michael interrupted him.

“Uh, sure.”

Geoff watched in shock as the Brit unhesitatingly reached forward to card tan fingers through the mess of Michael’s many curls, the red strands bouncing slightly with the gentle contact. Gavin grinned and tugged softly at one, laughing when it immediately sprung back to its original spot on Michael’s forehead. Michael, for his part, looked nervous under the sudden attention of this new and frankly overwhelming stranger, but he accepted Gavin’s metaphorical offer of friendship with a faint smile.

"Very cute," Gavin grinned, carefully withdrawing. Michael glared at him suspiciously, reaching up to press his hair flat in a fashion similar to Gavin's nervous tick. "You sorta need a haircut," Gavin said truthfully and Geoff nodded in agreement.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Great. I'm living with two more Griffons."

Geoff definitely noticed Michael's slip of the tongue, but he didn’t say anything and instead smiled encouragingly. Gavin, however –

“You’re living with us?” he asked excitedly.

“Uh –” Michael faltered, glancing at Geoff as if he’d been the one to suggest it.

“Calm down, Gav,” Geoff said quickly. “He hasn’t even been here twenty-four hours yet, not to mention he needs to meet everyone else. Who knows – he may end up hating us.” At Gavin’s squawk, he grinned. “And when I say ‘us’ I mean you, obviously.”

Michael laughed, shrugging as if it was a possibility, but Geoff could already tell the two were making fast friends.

“Can I show him my room?” Gavin asked, smiling largely.

“My god, you’ve reverted to a five year old,” Geoff said, but he couldn’t deny the blossom of happiness in his chest. It wasn’t as if he’d been expecting Gavin to be rude or unwelcoming, but he had sprung this on the lad. Gavin seemed surprisingly thrilled regardless and Michael apparently didn’t mind the Brit’s grabby hands that gripped him by the upper arm.

Seeing that Gavin was still waiting for a response, Geoff rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, go ahead.” He’d get a chance to talk to Jack, Ryan, and Ray alone this way, anyway.

“C’mon,” Gavin said enthusiastically, snatching up Michael’s wrist to physically lead the redhead down the hall and to the left. The Brit’s voice echoed back, making Geoff smirk. “You’ll probably not like my room much. Maybe Ray’s… Do you like video games?”

That went surprisingly well, Geoff said, sighing with relief as the two vanished into the corridor. He’d made a decision, however, and now he had a larger, much more stressful item on his plate.

It was time Gavin, Jack, Ryan, and Ray know that they were not just ‘linked’, but soulmates.

Michael was the last of the links, meaning that there was no point in hiding it anymore. There hadn’t been much of a point in the beginning, but Geoff had never found it necessary until now. With Michael aware that a more intimate bond was hatched between the six, Geoff was running out of time to tell them before they figured it out for themselves. No doubt Griffon would let something slide or Burnie would take it upon himself to tell Gavin, and then Geoff stood the chance of landing himself on the wrong side of the boys’ judgment. He didn’t want to be seen as the guy that knew the entire time but didn’t say anything, and even more than that, he definitely didn’t want to be seen as the guy that didn’t want them like that.

He had to constantly wonder if they loved him as much as he loved them. He’d known Ryan and Jack for years now, and neither had given much of an indication that they felt romantic feelings for him, but that wasn’t going to dissuade Geoff. He was going to tell them, and soon.

Maybe today. 

Geoff barely had time to speedily clean up the living room before he heard the front door creak open. He tossed down the pillow he’d been fluffing, running to the main room and just got there in time to greet the cloudy faces of Jack and Ryan, Ray following not far behind. All were limping as Gavin had been when he’d gotten home and all were carrying bags from the local HEB.

“Hi, Geoff,” Ryan waved, handing the tattooed man one of the many grocery bags lining his arms. “Was it you – or?”

“Wasn’t me,” Geoff assured, and Ryan got his answer.

“Glad to see you’re back,” Jack said, smiling. “How was Jersey? Griffon good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Geoff nodded, taking some of the load off of Jack’s arms as well. He held out a hand for some of Ray’s also, but the younger grinned and cheekily shook his head, not allowing Geoff to take any. “Griffon’s good… everyone’s foot okay?”

Ryan grimaced as he placed his groceries on the counter. “Yeah, we were just in the car, thank god. Cleared up pretty quick, too.” He sighed and shook his head, beginning to unpack. “This has to stop, Geoff.”

“Heh,” Geoff said slowly. “Well… it might have.”

Ryan looked at him, alarmed. “What?”

“That sounds vaguely threatening, Geoff,” Ray told him.

“No, no… I have good news,” Geoff said, unable to smother his giddy smile.

Everyone seemed to freeze.

“Please say what I think you’re going to,” Ray whispered.

“He was in Jersey?” Ryan guessed, and when Geoff just gave an airy laugh, the blonde gave a stunned chuckle, shaking his head with wide eyes. “No way. Who would’ve guessed?”

“How –” Jack started before seeming to lose his breath. He continued with a look of awe glimmering in his eyes. “Where is he? Is he okay? How old is he?”

“Shh,” Geoff laughed as Jack’s voice began rising from emotion. He yelped when Ray abruptly leapt at him, stringy arms wrapping around his waist as he yelled in excitement. “Ouch, Ray – he’s okay, his name is Michael. Griffon was totally fucking playing with me; she’s known him for years.”

“And she didn’t say anything when she was here?” Jack said, looking faintly upset.

“Said she wasn’t positive,” Geoff explained. “You have to admit it was a far reach. Burnie is a magic-maker. That guy’s gut feeling will be the death of him one day.”

“Michael,” Ray said slowly, leaning back and tasting the name on his tongue.

“How old is he?” Ryan asked curiously, repeating one of Jack’s earlier questions.

“Eighteen,” Geoff answered, making a shushing motion with his hands. They were all talking in loud, excitable voices and Geoff wanted more time to explain before he introduced Michael to them.

Ray stared at his hands. “He’s here?” the Puerto Rican demanded. “Where?”

Ryan and Ray both started to take off through the kitchen door, but Geoff quickly reeled them back in with a sharp cry of, “Wait! There’s something you should definitely know.”

At once, they stopped at the door, looking at Geoff to show that they were paying attention, though Geoff could tell they were also listening for sounds of someone else in the house. Ryan was frowning, however, and Geoff had the feeling that the blonde had already jumped ahead a few steps.

Knowing he would be asked eventually, Geoff tiredly lied, “There’s still no sign why we’re all linked. But… I can promise you that he’s the last.”

Ray looked ready to question him, but Jack quickly cut in with, “So he’s the one…?”

Geoff nodded sadly. “Yeah,” he murmured, paling at the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly from down the hall. “Griffon said – Griffon said it was his parents but don’t say anyth –”

“Geoff!” Gavin yelled, throwing the door open with a flurry and a bang. “Michael ate my hair gel –”

He fell silent, staring in surprise at the curious faces of Ryan and Ray, who were right next to the door.

Michael had no such warning before he barreled past the Brit, clearly ready to explain Gavin’s rather odd accusation. He froze halfway through the kitchen, faltering at the sight of three strangers staring at him with stunned expressions.

“Michael,” Geoff said slowly, smiling comfortable at the redhead, who was beginning to resemble a deer in the headlights. Walking over to Jack, he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and said, “This is Jack.”

Michael swallowed audibly and nodded. “Broke-nose-on-pole guy,” he said.

Jack shot Geoff a flare before smiling warmly at the redhead. “Nice to meet you, Michael,” he said kindly, smartly making no move to shake hands. Sometimes Geoff really loved Jack and his reliability.

“And this is Ryan and Ray,” Geoff said, darting across the room to appropriately point to each. They took the clue from Jack and settled for nodding politely and smiling. Gavin was bouncing nervously on his shoes as he watched.

Michael looked at Ryan with a cautious expression. Ryan frowned at him. “What?”

“Gavin said you’re the creepy one?”

Gavin was suddenly very interested in the tile flooring when Ryan’s glare was sent his direction.

“You don’t look creepy,” Michael said quickly.

“Thanks,” Ryan said sarcastically, giving the redhead a charismatic grin. Geoff rolled his eyes; Ryan was annoyingly good at laying the charm on thick and when the blonde went as far as to wink, the redhead’s cheeks were extremely flushed, though his expression didn’t change.

“Oh god, okay,” Geoff sighed, running a hair through his hair. “Everyone, this is Michael. He came back with me yesterday and, uh, he’ll be staying here for however long he’d like.”

Michael side-eyed him. “Thanks for putting me on the spot, Geoff.”

Geoff shrugged, grinning easily.

Making a face, Michael said, “Do you have any clean water?”

The others looked confused at the question, the inquiry seemingly unnecessary, but Geoff didn’t miss a beat. “Yep,” he said, walking over to the sink and turning on the tap. He waited a few seconds for it to get cold and grabbed a glass out of a cabinet and filled it, handing it to Michael not soon after. “If you want ice, it’s in the freezer.”

“Ice,” Michael muttered but said no more, taking a big swallow and smacking his lips. His eyes were wide as he finished it off in one sitting. “This came from the tap?” he asked skeptically, as if he hadn’t just seen Geoff pour it in front of him.

Gavin made a disgusted noise. “Yes, it did, and it is bloody terrible. Austin tap water tastes like it’s been recycled through a donkey’s body a few times.”

“Are you kidding? It tastes delicious,” Michael said earnestly, glancing at Geoff for an okay before he poured another glass.

“Seriously? Not you, too,” Gavin groaned. “No one agrees with me on this!”

“My old tap water used to come out as brown,” Michael told him, finishing off his glass with a satisfied sigh. “This is fantastic.”

His comment made everyone feel slightly uncomfortable, but Gavin was unperturbed. He waved a careless hand in the air, frowning. “No,” he said firmly. An idea apparently sprang to mind, because his eyes glittered not a millisecond later. “Have you tried Dr. Pepper?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I didn’t live under a rock, idiot. Yes, and Dr. Pepper is fucking delicious.”

Gavin grinned and nodded in agreement, clearly happy to have something to agree about.

“What was that that you yelled when you came in here?” Ray finally asked curiously.

“What was what?” Gavin asked, confused, but Michael flushed with understanding.

“Okay,” Michael said with an odd sense of finality. He placed his glass on the counter. “Let me explain –”

“Oh!” Gavin exploded. “He ate - bloody ate my hair gel!”

Ryan’s face twisted in an obvious expression of contempt. “Gross, that stuff smells like ass. Why?”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Michael said hotly.

“He thought it was food – or something?” Gavin said, looking questioningly at Michael.

“It – I thought it was something else,” Michael said awkwardly, biting his lip. “It smelled good! He offered me something sweet, like, seconds before that so I thought it was food, too.”

“That’s disgusting,” Geoff said.

“It tasted disgusting,” Michael replied.

Geoff laughed, looking slyly at the rest of the boys to invite them into the conversation. They looked surprisingly nervous, clearly unsure how to approach the stranger that they were linked with on a very intimate level. Knowing that skipping around the subject would only cause more problems in the end, Geoff cleared his throat and quickly made a decision. “We could have an early dinner?”

“That sounds good,” Jack immediately said, relieved.

“I already started making something,” Geoff said. “Put some shit into a boil, hopefully it won’t be half bad. Let’s relax in the living room and talk a bit,” and hopefully clear the air, here and now.

Michael looked apprehensive as Geoff gently guided him from the room with a hand on the small of the younger’s back. The rest followed at their own pace, giving Geoff the opportunity to lean down and whisper in Michael’s ear, “Just go with me on this?”

Michael nodded and snatched the seat on the reclining chair, one of the two one-seaters in the room. He pulled his socked feet up, hugging his knees and watching as everyone slowly filed in, sitting down and looking faintly anxious.

As he took the other reclining chair, Geoff began to doubt his earlier choice of telling the others why Michael had seemed so accident-prone. It was obvious that they now didn’t know how to act.

“Okay,” Geoff said, looking at his boys and smiling. “We look like a group of oddballs,” he joked.

There were a few chuckles, but no one said anything.

Geoff grumbled under his breath before forcing a cheerier smile onto his face. “So… most of you have never met Griffon, except for you, Michael,” he started, swallowing. This was becoming a more nerve-wracking task than he thought it would be. “And all of you know Burnie… except for you, Michael.”

“Who’s Burnie?” Michael asked.

“A very old friend,” Geoff said, and he planned to leave it at that. Gavin had a word to put in, however.

“Real prick,” he said, smirking. “Kind of fat, too.”

Geoff rolled his eyes but shrugged. “Anyway… so they - Griffon and Burnie - were the ones to tell me about the linked thing. Griffon was pretty deep into the underground a few years ago and heard some weird rumors being passed around. She met Burnie, who was also in the business, and the two started a small organization together after realizing that this linked thing wasn’t just a rumor.”

“Well, how did they do that?” Ray asked.

“I’m not sure,” Geoff admitted. “Ask Burnie or Griffon the next time they come over. They never mentioned the details. In fact, they lied to me when they first told me. I think it was because they themselves weren’t that sure but I didn’t end up getting the truth until a few years later, after I got to know you two,” Geoff said, pointing to Jack and Ryan.

Ryan frowned. “After?”

Geoff bit his lip. “Yeah… and since then the pieces have been falling into place.”

“What pieces?” Gavin asked, eyes narrowed.

“What does linked mean to you?” Geoff said, avoiding Gavin’s pointed question.

Ryan looked annoyed. “Well,” he said slowly. “In the way that we’ve used it so far, it means our bodies have a sort of… psychic link. Whatever physically happens to one person, happens to all five - er, six of us, usually on a lesser scale.”

“Right,” Geoff said, nodding. “That’s all correct.”

“Geoff, why are you bringing this up?” Gavin questioned.

“Because,” Geoff said, hesitating and glancing at Michael, who’d turned pale. Don’t chicken out, you piece of shit, just say it. “Because Michael doesn’t know any of this?” Dammit.

He could feel Michael’s stare piercing the side of his head.

“So then why are we here?” Jack said.

“Because I want you here,” Geoff answered sharply.

“But we know all of this,” Ray pointed out gently.

“This is a big deal, guys!” Geoff exploded. Everyone jumped. “This is the last time we’ll have to have this discussion,” unless I blow it, Geoff mentally added, “and I think it would be good to just sit down and talk about it. We literally can physically harm each other by just hurting ourselves. We need to talk about safety and stuff -”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem now, right?” Michael said desperately. Geoff felt a twinge of guilt and everyone else in the room simultaneously flinched.

“No, no,” Geoff said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. Day to day life can cause stupid shit. Hangnails alone are a bitch. I just want to make sure we’re all safe.”

“Okay,” Michael said uneasily, settling back into the cushions.

“We also don’t know what it entails,” Ray pointed out. “Death, for instance.”

“It’s a delayed effect,” Geoff said, shrugging. “Sometimes. It’s unreliable, is what I’m saying. If one of our hearts were to stop… I’m not sure what would happen. Neither Burnie nor Griffon know either, and there’s no concrete evidence one way or another. It’s happened before but it doesn’t happen to everyone. Griffon thinks it depends on how much they’re attached to each other. Their hearts literally give out or something. Point is, I would like to keep us all alive and not injured if possible.”

Michael seemed unable to keep from asking, “What about scars?”

“Again, sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn’t. Our bodies aren’t mirror images of each other, obviously,” Geoff answered, glad that he could at least put that worry to rest. He imagined that Michael was hosting a fair amount of scars. “More often than not it’s just little annoying bruises.”

Michael looked unhappy but fell quiet regardless. He stared down at his hands in thought and didn’t look up, even as Geoff spoke to him.

“We all live here, Michael,” Geoff said softly, diving in. “We share rent and food. Basically, we’re just glorified roommates.” Geoff’s eye twitched at the words, but he said them in an attempt to comfort the redhead. He didn’t want the redhead to think it was all or nothing. They could be friends, if nothing else.

“Roommates,” Michael said slowly, testing out the word.

“Sometimes we do gay shit, too,” Ray said, snickering.

“Roommates who do gay shit together,” Gavin summarized with a grin.

Michael’s face went red and he glanced at Geoff.

“Got a problem with gay shit?” Ryan asked, misreading the look on the redhead’s face.

“Of course not,” Michael said gruffly, dropping his legs to brush the soles of his feet on the floor. “I’m – well… you know… Guys are – guys are nice to look at, too.”

The guys burst into laughter at the awkward, fumbled confession and damn – Geoff was glad he wasn’t going to have to help another idiot through a sexual identity crisis. To his surprise, Michael joined in on the laughter, cheeks a faint pink as he giggled nervously.

“We didn’t actually think you had a problem with that,” Ray said after a moment. “Just want to make sure you aren’t a homophobic asshole.”

“Oh, well,” Michael said, shrugging. “I’m definitely not.”

“Good,” Ryan said, smiling. “Because not to weird you out or anything, but some of us are gay.”

Michael looked embarrassed by Ryan’s openness, his brown eyes darting around the room in a weak attempt to avoid the blonde’s gaze. Geoff chuckled but sympathized with the younger – a ‘bad neighborhood’ probably wasn’t the most accepting of the gay culture.

“Er – okay,” Michael said lamely. There was an undeniable curiosity in his eyes as he very quickly glanced at each man in the room, and if Geoff had to guess, he was trying to figure out which one of them was gay.

“I like everything,” Gavin said bracingly, grinning. “Anything that’s hot.”

Geoff rolled his eyes, making a face of disgust. “He will bang anything that moves,” Geoff said, despite knowing full well that Gavin was still a virgin.

Gavin sent him a dirty look. “No, I wouldn’t!” he cried, looking pleadingly at Michael. “No, I wouldn’t,” he repeated in a firmer tone.

“Okay,” Michael said, clearly unsure of what to say to the Brit.

“Yeah, he only does gay shit with me,” Ray said, sniggering as he leaned into Gavin’s personal space, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and squeezing. He pressed his cheek against the Brit’s and stuck out his tongue, nearly skimming the skin of Gavin’s chin.

Geoff distantly wondered how they hadn’t progressed to any actual gay shit yet.

As it was, Michael looked uncomfortable with the display, but he seemed confused more than anything else. Turning to face Geoff, he said, “I thought you said no one knew it was a romantic thing?”

Oh, fuck.

“What?” Ray said, his tone dropping into more serious tones as he unraveled from an equally sobered Gavin. The temperature of Geoff’s skin feeling like it’d suddenly fell at least ten degrees, he swallowed heavily, starkly aware that all eyes in the room had landed on him.

“What’s a romantic thing?” Ryan asked, sitting up. Jack followed the movement, both of the men’s brows furrowing.

“Um –”

“Oops,” Michael said in a small voice. He seemed to cave in on himself by slouching his shoulders and sinking into the recliner, mouth twisted into a guilty grimace. “Geoff, I didn’t…”

“What’s a romantic thing?” Gavin pushed, frowning.

Geoff took a few deep, calming breaths. He could practically feel his blood pressure rising with each passing second. “Burnie and Griffon didn’t tell me,” he said, licking his lips. “And it was impossible to bring it up after you all moved in.”

“What did you not bring up?” Ryan demanded.

“Do you know why we’re linked?” Gavin said, and fuck – he sounded angry.

“Not exactly,” Geoff said. “I mean – it’s technically random, still?”

“What?” Gavin said, shaking his head in a clear gesture of, I don’t understand!

“It’s not exactly rare to have multiple people to be linked to,” Geoff said slowly, trying to word it correctly. Everyone was staring at him with varying degrees of anger and he was beginning to realize that maybe they’d suspected he wasn’t being completely truthful with him. “But, uh, I guess it’s pretty rare to have them all find each other so easily… we got insanely lucky. It was a one in a million chance that Griffon found you, Michael.”

“We know all of this already, Geoff,” Ray reminded him.

“Yeah, I know,” Geoff said. “I’m stalling.” He took a deep breath. “So far in all the cases Griffon has found… being linked means more than just sharing skin. It means that we’re soulmates.”

Like a Band-Aid.

It was only Geoff and Michael that didn’t look like their brain had just collapsed, though both were equally breathless as they waited for the inevitable explosive reactions, the explicatives shouted, the anger to burst.

“Oh,” Gavin said, leaning back into the couch. Ray followed him with a matching blown-away expression. They just blinked, stunned into silence.

“You mean like… the romantic kind?” Jack said slowly and his expression was extremely hard for Geoff to read. His brow had unfurrowed and while he looked faintly surprised, like the others he seemed oddly amazed.

“That’s what Griffon said,” Geoff said awkwardly, fiddling with a loose piece of sting coming off of the seam of the chair. Definitely not the reaction I expected –

“But,” Ryan said, looking supremely confused. “But you said that it isn’t rare to have multiple links? ‘Soulmates’ are typically pairs –”

“Polyamorous relationships aren’t exactly common,” Geoff said, looking at his hands. “People… close themselves off after finding ‘the one’ and if they were to run into one of their other soulmates, they wouldn’t even consider it. Even if they feel something for that person.”

“Feel something?” Gavin asked, picking up on the emphasis Geoff had placed on the two words.

“I see attractive people every day,” Geoff said, shrugging. His heart was quick to climb into his throat as he scraped up the courage to say the next words.

“I don’t feel the same towards them as I do towards all of you.”

He kept his gaze aimed down, unwilling to forgive himself if he glanced up and saw that his friends, the fucking only people on the planet that he felt a connection with, were gazing at him with something like pity. Despite all of his earlier suspicions, he couldn’t help but feel unsure of them now, insecurity riding in on a wave of doubt and washing over him until he began to drown.

He’d been so sure. Ray’s granite eyes would soften into melted chocolate when he would look one of their eyes. Gavin’s lips would quirk in an unconceivable roll of the mouth. Ryan’s fingers would twitch. Jack’s gaze lingered.

And Geoff would notice.

Every time.

Fuck.

“I like you.” Michael suddenly said and the absurdity of the loudly spoken statement almost made Geoff burst into laughter and maybe tears. He looked up in surprise, catching Michael’s strong stare and holding it. Frankly, he was surprised by the intensity of it, caught off guard and rendered speechless.

He hadn’t known Michael for more than a day. The most he knew about him was that he had a fucked up childhood and a strong desire for something more than what he’d been born into, a trait which Geoff admired. Michael’s character was strong enough that Geoff already gained a fairly accurate sense of who he was, but there was still much to this eighteen year old kid that he’d yet to see, including this. This intense passion and determination glowing in the redhead’s mocha eyes was unfamiliar to him, but not unpleasantly so. Though it sent warm shivers deep into the pit of Geoff’s stomach, a strange flame was sparked somewhere on the surface of his heart, quickly consuming the empty spaces in his chest until his entire being was burning with something he’d never experienced before. The air was stolen from his lungs and he was left breathless and shivering despite the inferno devouring him.

“I like you,” Michael repeated, “I like this. It’s… a lot different than what my mom and dad had. I haven’t even spent a fucking night here, but I already feel safer than the home I’d grown up in.” There was a short pause. “Do you ever meet those people that you just instantly crush on? Like… there’s potential there?”

Geoff smiled.

“It’s a lot like that,” Michael finished, a stubborn glint steeling his eyes as he relaxed against the back of the chair.

It hadn’t even been a day and Geoff had already fallen in love with Michael Jones.

---

“It’s a lot like that,” Michael said brazenly, crossing his arms and sitting back, feeling the muscles of his back tighten with the rising tension. Geoff’s light smile was the only thing keeping him from bursting into a nervous explanation for his small, nerve-ridden rant.

Stupid, stupid, so stupid. Everyone was looking at him as though his ears had detached and started singing, which was understandable because wow – where did Michael get off talking to them like that? He didn’t even know these peoples’ last names. He was the awkward sixth wheel, out of place and extremely inconvenient. These people clearly had something for each other, something started long before Michael had arrived – something that didn’t involve Michael.

And yet – there was that spark.

He’d felt it when he first woke up to see Geoff standing over him in Griffon’s bar. He’d felt it when Gavin had shown him around the upstairs, opening the door to each room and curiously leaving each one ajar as he moved onto the next. Both men’s eyes held something foreign and addicting, leaving a physical trace on his skin when their gaze would hold him. Oddly intense and emotionally arousing, he found himself craving it after spending a few minutes alone, and even now as he stood in the spotlight of their stares, his heart stuttered and swelled for a much different reason than it should’ve been.

The embarrassment was still thick and strong, but a sense of pride coated his veins, and he didn’t dare apologize, even as he stared unblinkingly into Geoff’s wide eyes. There was a smile on the tattooed man’s lips and Michael was fairly sure it wasn’t a cruel one. He didn’t dare look at the others.

“You sure have a lot of spunk.”

Michael almost choked.

He had never been told that before.

The words broke the tense atmosphere, however, and immediately Gavin was snickering under his breath at Ryan’s surprised observation. He supposed it was understandable – he didn’t exactly look like the definition of tough. Soon, Ray and Jack were joining in, and Michael got the distinct feeling that they were laughing at more than just Ryan’s slick comment. It was a jittery sort of mirth that wrapped around each of their breaths, and the glances shared between them were sharp with electricity.

Gavin’s mutter was barely audible through the laughter. “I… wouldn’t be against a relationship.”

They quieted instantly.

“I think soulmates sounds like a pretty sweet deal,” Ryan said bluntly, shrugging. “We already live together. Now we just have benefits?” His bravado exterior melted slightly at the end and it came out a little uncertain.

“Soulmates,” Jack said slowly, smiling. Michael was already starting to love that smile – it was so sweet it could rot his teeth. The bearded man sighed, shaking his head and grinning ruefully. “Honestly, I think I already had a feeling.”

Everyone murmured their agreement.

“It’s crazy to think that around four hours ago, you were about to leave and probably not come back,” Geoff said suddenly, looking at Michael.

“You were what?” Gavin said, sounding personally offended.

“He drugged me!” Michael said defensively. “I didn’t want to go on an airplane and he fucking drugged me! How was I supposed to know he wasn’t a complete psycho?”

“You did what?” Ray snapped, and suddenly all movement in the room stopped.

Geoff’s face was eerily pale. “He wasn’t going to come if I didn’t –”

“So you drugged him?” Ray exclaimed, his anger almost visible as it rose. “Geoff – what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that you’d appreciate me finding the last link,” Geoff replied shortly, but his rebuttal was nothing compared to the ferocity of Ray’s.

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t scare him off!” Ray yelled. “I’m amazed he’s still here.”

“It was just a sleeping pill,” Geoff ground out.

“That’s what they call roofies,” Gavin stage-whispered to Ryan, who smirked.

“Shut up,” Geoff told him.

“Michael,” Ray suddenly said, and Michael jumped. Ray was staring intently at him. “Geoff’s actions do not reflect on our –”

“Oh, shut up, Ray,” Geoff said, looking flustered.

Michael laughed, enjoying the playful banter, but he didn’t feel the need to contribute. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been in a situation such as this, where there were no worries currently pressing on his mind, where there was no fear that he would be caught, where there was no more tightness in his chest.

There was something different.

The realization almost frightened him.

Michael wasn’t the same person he’d been twenty four hours ago. He didn’t understand it – nothing had happened except that he left home and met new people, but his very soul had been altered. Its chemistry had changed and transformed with the sudden addition of new properties – Geoff, Gavin, Ray, Jack, and Ryan.