Length: 6660 words
Pairing: future Micheoff
AU: fake AH crew, undercover Michael
Warnings: canon-typical violence
Summary: It's surreal, being a part of the gang. Michael begins to get a little used to it.
Notes: i lived, bitch
“Need a ride?” Ramsey asks. His hands slide into his pockets, keys jingling.
“Nah.” Michael glances at his car. “I drove.”
Ramsey’s head tips back and he eyes Michael like a predator catching sight of easy prey. “Take a ride.”
“Yes, sir.” Michael follows Ramsey to a car straight out of a gangster movie, and a dozen half-formed jokes about rum-running surface on his tongue. Instead he obediently takes the passenger’s seat and wonders if he should be afraid.
I wrote this a while back for @shadeofazmeinya and realized I never posted it. Their request was something along the lines of a museum date and as I’m currently in grad school for museum studies, I jumped on it!
Ships: Micheoff
Thank you to beloved @gayafsatan for teaching my idiot self how to do readmore on mobile lol
-
Michael knew from the moment they approached the huge doorway that he didn’t want to be here. More, he didn’t belong here. He was scum from the pits of Jersey, even dressed up in nicer clothes and given a new job didn’t mean that he was allowed to cross the threshold of a place like this.
But Geoff was already striding forward, a content look on his face, and Michael really didn’t want to be left behind, so he skittered forward after him. He hovers behind Geoff’s left arm, not sure what was the correct protocol, and follows him through the big double doors.
The museum’s foyer is warm and inviting, with cascading light from many windows and marble floors. They click over them as they approach the front desk. Geoff grins at the woman behind the counter and she glances at him a bit warily for a moment - taking in all the tattoos - but then returns the smile. “How can I help you, sir?”
“I’m just taking my friend here around. I’d like two tickets, if you don’t mind,” Geoff says smoothly, glancing over and gesturing for Michael to approach the table. The woman glances at him, taking him in, but she nods and completes the transaction, handing over the tickets. “Don’t miss the new exhibit on the third floor,” she hums. “We have a few Van Gogh paintings. They’re truly exceptional.”
Geoff’s eyes light up and Michael does have to hide a smile. There we go. That was the real reason they were spending a few hours touring a shit museum when Michael could be out racing cars or cleaning his guns or playing a few rounds of Rocket League. Their next heist was simple - they were going to break in and steal those paintings. Any Van Gogh on the black market would be worth an exorbitant amount. Plus, as Geoff explained, they hadn’t hit the Los Santos Art Museum in quite some time. It’d be fun to do it again.
He hadn’t expected Geoff to pick him as his ‘date’ to case the museum and the exhibit. Certainly Jack would have been a better pick, or even Gavin who was more familiar with the security layouts and would probably benefit from being inside. But no. Geoff had picked him of all people. Just saying that he would like a day alone with him.
He couldn’t refuse. Not when his boss wanted him to go, anyways. So Michael, Jersey street kid and scum of the gutters, was standing in possibly the most beautiful and classy place he had ever been in. He follows Geoff closely, unsure of how he should act in a place like this.
Geoff chuckles at his anxiety. “Relax,” he hums. “We need to check out the exhibit upstairs, but nothing says we can’t enjoy ourselves first.” His hand gently brushes Michael’s and the boy turns a bright red. “Take in some culture,” he teases. “I think you fucking need it.”
“Don’t be a dick, Geoff,” Michael retorts a bit awkwardly and they start to wander in and out of some of the more permanent exhibits. He can’t help but admit that he’s taken aback a bit by some of the pieces. Every time he catches Geoff’s expression out of the corner of his eye, the man seems... fond. Which makes Michael uneasy, but he can’t dwell on it, because around every corner there’s something more... magical.
He can’t explain what the feeling was. Just that this place - with a bunch of art, most of which he only cared about the price tag - was doing something to him. It wasn’t really the art. While pretty, it was just something to look at. Or it would be if they stole it.
However, the positioning, exhibit designs, interactives... It was washing over him from every direction and soon - like a kid with hyperactivity - he just felt the need to continue bouncing, continue exploring. Geoff follows along, warmth blooming in his chest.
“Michael,” he asks after stopping the man’s diatribe about how the blood was painted incorrectly on a painting of a murder, “have you ever been to a museum before?”
Michael pauses, a bit taken aback. “No,” he admits with a touch of pink. “Is that obvious?”
Geoff laughs. “Not really. I like it though. You’re so excited.” He wraps his arm around his shoulder. Michael leans in a bit despite himself. The feeling is so warm and genuine and he likes how well he fits in the crook of Geoff’s arm. “I want to do this more with you. There’s some other museums in LS. We don’t have to be stealing from one to go check it out.”
Michael’s ears turn crimson. “... you asking me on a date, boss?”
Now it’s Geoff’s turn to become a bit pink. “Not a date, Jones.” There’s a bit of a pause and Geoff doesn’t let go. The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Not unless you want it to be.
Michael glances around. It’s late in the afternoon on a Wednesday, before the work crowd releases. No one else is in the room with them. Michael’s heart thumps wildly in his chest. Geoff... his boss was such a pillar. Someone he respected more than anything in the world. But...
Geoff releases his arm around his shoulder and brushes some of his flyaway hair off his face. “It would be fun as dicks,” he finally says with a bit of a smile. “But we can worry about that some other time. Come on, we have the third floor to visit and we need to focus.”
He turns and starts walking, leaving Michael flustered and waiting in the middle of the exhibit hall. Michael can watch Geoff’s mannerisms turn back into Ramsey with every step. Colder, more detached. And with every step away from him, Michael feels something tear inside his soul - some small bond that was forming between them that had the potential to become so, so much more.
“Geoff, wait!” he calls, taking a frantic step forward. Geoff turns around, raising his eyebrow, as if to ask what?
“I’d... I’d like to go,” he says quietly. “To another museum with you, that is.” He bites his lip. It’s not an admission he’d like a date. He’s not quite sure how to even ask that, especially not of the boss of the criminal empire he was trying to join.
But the smile that erupts on Geoff’s face makes it all worth it. It’s warm and large and genuine enough that it makes Michael smile sheepishly back. He takes a few quick bounds back over to Michael .. it’s Geoff again, not Ramsey, just the warm happy-go-lucky man that only a few get to see.
“Really?” he hums. “You would?”
Michael nods a bit wordlessly, taken aback by the smile on Geoff’s face. It twists his stomach into knots, but good knots. It’s something he thought he would steal every piece of art in here just to see again. Geoff squeezes his hand warmly and without hesitating, leans down and brushes just the briefest of kisses on Michael’s lips.
There’s an electrifying pause and Michael’s eyes are as wide as saucers when they break apart, his heart thudding a million miles a minute as his body processes what just happened. But before he can say anything, Geoff is turning away. “Come on, now,” he hums. “We have work to do.”
Like he didn’t just kiss his newest hire in an art gallery.
Michael manages to kick his body back into gear just as Geoff was disappearing through the door, running along behind him. Work now, for sure. He could do that. But later....
Later, he’d have to see how much a membership to this museum cost, because he could get used to this.
mavin: you like the original of anything. you love the current mavin renaissance but you’re also mad for those years when the fandom collectively shunned it.
micheoff: you probably have a daddy and/or praise kink. no shaming, but have you read a micheoff fic without at least one or the other?
team og: you like the idea of having soft internet dads. they’re proud of you, i promise. extra life was a gift.
jeremichael: you really liked the get sprunked video. their face cam interactions are always good. you’re not sure how to feel about the old men masks.
mavinsay/mavinseg: you’ve watched the fifty turn mario party videos multiple times. you probably started with mavin but felt guilty bc meg and lindsay are awesome too so you threw them in
Geoff is sat in the armchair in the corner of his room, reading quietly with the spine of the book pressed against his thigh, one hand pressed against his face and fingers holding an icepack in place against his eye. A minor slip up in a job, no one seriously hurt, but tensions raised just enough for michael and jeremy to go out and blow off the rest of their steam.
That must be them returning now. A door slams out in the main area of the penthouse, boots stamping throughout the semi-shared home. Geoff looks up at the door to the bedroom with raised brows, folding the corner of his page and closing it slowly. The doorhandle jiggles roughly before it swings open, being caught at the last minute by bruised fingers.
“Good time?” geoff asks simply, watching as michael walks in and slams the door behind himself, immediately going into the en suite. They share one of the few rooms with an en suite, it’s one of the perks of living in the penthouse full time. The squeak of the faucet echoes through the joined rooms, water rushing against porcelain. “Michael?”
