the night remembered
Title: The Night Remembered Pairing: Mavin Rating: T (Swearing) Genre: Pure fluff. Words: Abt. 560. A/N: Good comforter.
“You fucking idiot!” Michael cried out, trying to keep himself for laughing. “Stop dancing in front of the screen and just fucking play the fucking game!” Gavin laughed and pretended he didn't hear Michael's words. It was very interesting at how much the two's gaming tactics differentiated from each other; Michael was always sitting still, neck straight, concentrated on the game (until he started failing, of course) while Gavin was jumping around like a monkey, mimicking his character's movements in hope that it'd make him play (a little bit) better.
“Hey, Michael?” Gavin asked, pausing the game and going to the counter to get more drinks.
“I'm listening,” he replied, dropping his controller on the couch and following Gavin.
“Do you think that if I was a zombie and was horribly peckish, you'd let me bite your neck?
“That depends,” Michael responded, hardly imagining the situation. “First of all, I'd like to find out what 'peckish' means. If it's something gross, I'm not doing it. Your kinks scare me.”
Gavin lowered his eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What does it depend on?” he asked, completely ignoring Michael's question.
“It depends whether you'll move your ass, bring those bevs here and unpause the fucking game. Jesus Christ.”
“Fine,” he whined, and whispered something under his breath. Michael didn't really hear him, but he knew it'd be something dumb. So he just went with “Hey, asshole, I heard that.” “No you didn't.”
“I totally fucking did.”
--
Five minutes had passed from the moment when Gavin unpaused the game, and the lights went out. Panic ensued. Michael was trying to find candles (he didn't even know why he was doing it; nobody in Austin ever buys candles. Ever.) and Gavin was trying to find playing cards, or, even worse, board games.
“Does anyone even buy board games anymor-” was all Gavin could say before all the game cases on the open shelf fell down on him. Michael could hear the thump from the other room.
“Gavin? You okay out there?” Michael laughed.He knew exactly what Gavin had done.
“Oh, god. I messed up.”
“Yeah, you did!” Michael cried cheerfully. “And guess who gets to clean all this up?”
“Oh, shut up.”
–
“It's been hours...” Gavin complained. “We have no more bevs and I'm really sleepy, Michael. You know what we should do? Play strip poker.” Gavin chirped.
Michael denied the gracious offer. “No, we're definitely not doing that. I'm not that drunk to play strip poker. Or... Oh, wait. How about you start playing, and then I'll join you later?” he smirked.
“You're such a mingy prick, Michael.”
“Yeah, you just shut the fuck up."
“Okay, okay, twenty questions. You ready?”
“I guess.” Michael sighed.
The younger man's first question was automatic, “Is it a living thing?”
“Yeah.” The other responded.
“Does it breathe?”
Michael turned to look at Gavin. “You do realize those are the same questions, right?”
The Brit pondered about this for a minute. “Uh... Sure.”
Michael laughs, “You're so stupid. Jesus.”
“No, no, no! Wait...” he cries in a drunkenly matter, “You're really dumb.”
“Gav, next question.”
“Gav?”
Michael had settled on the large couch, not paying attention to Gavin when he turned around to see him falling asleep on his lap.
“Oh, come on. You've gotten all chick-flick on me, haven't you?”
“Mm-n.. Mic-oo.”
“Just go to sleep already. Dumb idiot.”