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Gavin Free knows exactly which buttons to push. He knows how to piss Michael off more than any other person he’s ever met. Gavin knows exactly what to say and when to say it to make Michael implode with rage, to send him flying across the room to wrestle the controller out of Gavin’s grip. That little shit knows every single way to get under Michael’s skin.
And Michael fucking hates it. He hates him and his stupid face with his stupid smile and his stupid laugh. He hates Gavin’s stupid voice and how he can’t speak English. He hates the tension between them, the sparks that fly through the air. It reminds him of that fucking Pokemon movie, where the Pikachu and the Riachu get stuck together with hatred. He hates that Gavin makes him feel like a stupid fucking Raichu.
And he hates the way Gavin smiles at him. He hates the way Gavin seeks him out after recording something together. After they fight over Minecraft and Michael is left to simmer in his own fucking rage stew, Gavin always comes looking for him and he always fucking finds him. Michael hates how Gavin always knows where he’ll be (the office, the lounge, the bathroom, there’s no hiding from this asshole) and he hates how he always knows what to say.
“Michael, honestly, when I build your next house I’ll make sure to put art in it. I didn’t know you were such a connoisseur.” Gavin’s grin is cheeky and all teeth. He’s completely sincere and adorable and Michael hates it.
“You’re so fucking stupid, Gavin.”
The leaner man’s hand reaches for Michael’s face, and he just leaves it there, pressed gently against the skin. And Michael is blushing and he knows he’s blushing, he can feel the intense heat in his face. He feels like some stupid love struck girl in an anime, being noticed for the first time by her senpai. But it’s not even the first time. This happens every fucking time.
And Gavin just laughs. That stupid fucking Gavin laugh, where he’s about to do something so funny. So funny and stupid and fucking awful, something that will amuse him and piss everyone else the fuck off. The laugh that makes Michael’s insides explode with rage and with something else.
And then the fucker kisses him. He pulls Michael’s face up towards him and kisses him. The kiss is soft and wet and Michael hates it. And he hates himself for kissing back.
Gavin pushes Michael against the wall, and his hand has moved to Michael’s hair. He’s got his fingers tangled in Michael’s curls, pulling on it.
Michael doesn’t know who was the one to deepen the kiss, a fact he almost always seems to ignore. He can’t possibly be the one to want it, because who the fuck wants more of Gavin? But suddenly there’s more of Gavin everywhere. There’s tongues tasting each other’s mouths, there’s stupid thin lips nibbling and sucking on his own, there’s the taste of blood and beer, and the overwhelming smell of stupid moron.
Stupid moron generally tends to smell like aftershave and vodka. He’s gotten used to smelling it everywhere, all over himself, his clothes and his bed.
When Gavin pulls away his lips are red and swollen, and Michael can feel the blood oozing from his own lip.
“Bollocks. I’m sorry, Michael.”
A hand untangles itself from Michaels hair, a finger rubs gently across his lips. He can see the red wetness covering Gavin’s finger and suddenly that’s all he can see, and he finds himself pulling Gavin back to him, kissing him hard, until all Gavin can taste is Michael’s blood.
Michael hates the way they move together, they way they move in time, their bodies know each other so well. Gavin’s hands are at Michaels back, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. Michael doesn’t want to stop and he fucking hates it. He fucking hates Gavin and the way his smell is engulfing him. He hates how he wants to touch Gavin everywhere, but he doesn’t have enough fucking hands.
When he pulls away, they’re both out of breath and Gavin has a stupid fucking grin on his face. That stupid grin he always has when he looks at Michael.
And then they just stare at each other, red-lipped, red-faced and out of breath just from fucking kissing and Michael feels like he’s in some hot Japanese yaoi now, where any moment both of them will be simultaneously jizzing in glorious spurts up to the ceiling.
FUCK.
“So…Michael. I was thinking that you and I should –“
“Gavin. Please please please just shut the fuck up.”
And he did, but the grin didn’t leave. That fucking grin never leaves and Michael wants to punch it off his stupid fucking face. But when Gavin brings his face back to Michael’s, when Gavin’s mouth finds itself nibbling on Michael’s neck, Michael’s brain melts into goo because he fucking hates Gavin so much. He hates him so much because he can’t hate him. He can’t hate him one fucking bit.
Michael is moaning like a slut and he knows it. He’s tenting in his jeans and it’s uncomfortable and he hates it and he hates Gavin. But he loves the feeling of Gavins mouth on his neck. The slight nip of teeth and the flash of tongue. He loves the hand clawing at the small of his back and the other in his hair. And he’s hard and he wants Gavin so much.
Fuck he hates this guy.
He hates the way Gavin pulls himself off of Michael without any warning, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his lips fucking glistening with spit. He hates the way he practically wants to shove the guy to his knees. But no, he doesn’t even fucking have to. Gavin presses Michael’s arms up against the wall and laughs that stupid fucking laugh. He kisses Michael and Michael’s squirming because, honestly, that stupid asshole.
Michael wants him out of breath and shouting his name like they’re playing another round of Slender. He wants the room to be filled with shouts of Michael in that high pitched uppity voice.
But he doesn’t get that. He gets Gavin pulling away and laughing that stupid fucking laugh.
Michael’s flushed and hard and Gavin just leans against the wall and grins at him. “Maybe next time you won’t try to steal the art off of my walls.”
“You suck, asshole.”
“Not today, Michael.”
Gavin knows exactly how to make Michael come undone. And he can’t fucking stand it.