Angst dialogue prompt: "Seeing you with him/her, it kills me."
dim down the lights
Early into the evening, Mike had realized that the best place for him was at the bar, his back to the rest of the room. Well, the best place probably would have been at home, stewing in his own irritation, but that wasn’t an option. Not when Blip and Sonny had clapped him on the shoulder and cheerfully informed him that he was bankrolling tonight’s festivities.
He could’ve sent his card along with one of them and wished them all well, but he was pretty sure they would’ve ended up charging more than just drinks and apps; that was how Butch funded for a stripper’s first semester of dental school three years ago.
So, he’d come along and parked himself right at the bar. He’d come out, he’d pay for the whole place’s drinks if that was what it took, but he wasn’t going to mingle or chat or turn around and watch over his team. Or their guests.
He clenched his jaw and signaled for another double bourbon. Neat.
He’d need it.
Right on cue, Ginny’s bright laugh floated over the lower thrum of the crowd. Mike’s shoulders just hunched toward his ears. He was all too aware that he hadn’t made Ginny laugh like that in weeks, if not months.
He was also all too aware of who was responsible.
And that guy could definitely afford his own drinks.
Mike hadn’t yet learned to like Noah Casey, remembered sharing an elevator with him one fateful morning last season and hadn’t quite gotten around to not blaming the guy at least a little bit for Ginny’s injury. The fact that he was still dating Ginny, all these months later, had nothing to do with it.
(The lie went down smoother than the bourbon.)
The fact that Noah Casey was so… present maybe did. It was like everywhere Mike turned, there were Ginny and her boyfriend, his hands usually all over her and her grins telling the world she didn’t mind.
Tonight was no different, not that he’d expected it to be. Which was why he’d removed himself, and his itching desire to slug that smug smirk off Casey’s face when his hands strayed under the edge of Ginny’s shirt again, from the equation. See, this barstool didn’t just have his name on it, it had “Self-Preservation,” too.
If only Ginny bothered to look for the sign.
“Lawson!” she crowed, her arm slinging around his shoulders familiarly—in fact, she’d done the exact same when they clinched her fourth straight win this evening—and fuck. That shouldn’t be enough to make Mike ache and light up and sit straight all at once. “Is this where you’ve been? You’re missing out on the party!”
He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye at her, taking in the victorious flush on her cheeks and the wild cloud of her curls. Before he could let himself fall into staring, he just shook his head. “I’m good here.”
“What?” Ginny laughed, drawing away to look at him. Her exuberance ebbed as she took in his elbows on the bartop and the damp coasters before him. “No, you’re not.”
“Think I am,” he replied, studiously avoiding her eyes.
“Mike, c’mon. Noah’s going to—”
He didn’t mean to, but he snorted.
“What’s that for?” she demanded, pulling away, which was probably for the best. Mike’s fists clenched anyway. “You don’t even know him. Every time he’s around, you just…”
He took a slug from his glass and didn’t fill in where Ginny trailed off. He didn’t have to look at her to know what dots she’d just connected. But she didn’t leave him at the bar to wallow all alone, the way he half-expected. She wouldn’t say anything, either, leaving a charged, awkward quiet to hang in the air.
Finally, Mike sighed. Eyes trained on the shelves of booze behind the bar, only catching glimpses of Ginny’s reflection in the bottles, he threw caution to the wind. “If that guy is who you want, then fine, Baker. I won’t try to convince you otherwise. But don’t make me pretend that it doesn’t kill me to see you with him, okay?”
He could just make out the dark fall of her eyelashes in the curve of some Cuervo before Ginny’s heat at his side disappeared. Hoping to wash away the bitter disappointment on his tongue, he lifted his glass for another sip. Only to find it empty. With a sigh, Mike signaled for another drink.
the dear evan hansen fandom must be made aware of this adorable photo ft. cuddly ben platt and amused mike faist with black nail polish, that is all thank you for your time
so Something Bad happens to Mike (like he disappears or dies or w/e) and obviously Chuck is heartbroken but he sort of promises to himself he'll learn to drive because Mike (even though he was totally ok with Chuck's likes and dislikes) always believed he would be a good driver. But then all the other burners decide it would be really rad to rebuild Mutt (she's somehow magically become rly damaged in the same event that took Mike) in the hopes to make Chuck feel better BUT THEN HE FEELS WORSE BECAUSE HE REMEMBERS MIKE TOLD HIM TO NEVER EVER DRIVE MUTT so he kind of feels bad for not liking the gift and then CLAIRE comes down to motorcity rto check on Julie and stuff and as she comes and visits the burners are all busy arguing because there's no leader to make them all chill out and she is just like " 'SCUSE ME FOR JUST A HOT SEC" and everyone stops and it suddenly 'pings' that CLAIRE SHOULD LEAD THEM??? So they train her up and she turns out to be a rly RAD CAR RIDER and she rides with Chuck in Blonde Thunder because he still doesn't like people interfering with Mutt and eventually they sort of give Mutt to The Duke because he seems like he really cares for it and all the burners feel like the mutt would have wanted to be driven even past mike's time and then in 'the final fight' between burners and kane The Duke will come ROARING IN with Mutt because "she would have wanted this final battle" and YEAH
o and Chuck's the one to take down kane and he's not just doin it for motorcity hes doin it for his best friend and its rly cute
