#mikeyds

[streetknown-a]

@mikeyds​ asked: * that’s how people get killed in horror movies, you know?

“Of course I know. Seen way more horror movies than you ever have, I’m willin’ to bet.” She grins and rolls her eyes, stepping out of the passenger’s seat of Michael’s vehicle. Yeah, not just anyone would decide they couldn’t hold it in anymore and choose to go take a quick piss in a dark forest, but hey, she really has to pee. It’s cleaner here than in a goddamn gas station, anyway. “Usually, the folks in horror movies aren’t strapped like I am. And you’re watchin’ my back, right? Not gonna let anyone sneak up on me? Fully expectin’ you to go toe-to-toe with Jason Voorhees if he shows up.” Quickly, she leans over to place a chaste kiss to the tip of the older’s nose, before stepping away from the car to drop her pants. She’s done trashier than this. 

[streetknown-moved]

@mikeyds​ asked: “If I say something is going to happen, it’s going to. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but as soon as the moment is opportune.”

“Who’s doubtin’ you, Michael? I’ve never doubted you, promise that much.” Vera has been working with Michael on heists long enough to know he’s a man of his fuckin’ word. He’s not excessively violent like she is or like how others are, but his violence is calculated and tactful, which makes it much more terrifying and intimidating than just anyone being pissed off. She wouldn’t care if it was someone else, but she’s grown to care for Michael in a way she never thought she would. Not like their first meeting was very amicable-- she didn’t like him at all at first, and their age difference is significant, but now here she is, reaching out for one of his hands. A finger strokes over his knuckles and she steps closer to him, meeting his eyes with a reassuring half-smile. “What happened? Want me to kill ‘em? I’ll do it, you know I will.”

[heatslept]

@mikeyds said:    “I gotta tell you- I ain’t too sure this shit is working for me.”

❝ wait, what?! ❞ brad bolts upright, feet slamming on the floor as he sits up, beer splashing up and out the neck of his bottle. wide eyes turn to lester– who quickly returns his focus to the plans scattered on the table he sits at– then scan the room for trevor, who’s nowhere to be found. shit. his mouth opens and closes rapidly, wordlessly, until he finally manages to speak. ❝ c– c’mon, michael– i know i ain’t at the same level as you guys yet, but i’m getting better, yeah? i’m really starting to come into my own, and– and t ain’t even here! you can’t make a decision like this without the whole crew bein’ here. you’re not the boss of us, y’know. you’re just the bossiest. ❞ the ending comment is muttered into his beer, but based on the crease in michael’s brow and lester’s horrified expression, there’s no doubt he heard it. brad sinks back into his spot on the couch, eyes locked on his bottle as he absently picks at its label. ❝ we... should at least get his input on this, don’t’cha think? he’s the one that brought me on in the first place; he should have a say. ❞

[heatslept]

@mikeyds said:    “I always thought I was the good guy.”

❝ jesus, mike, you really are heartless, eh? ❞ the laugh that escapes him is humorless but he lets it out nonetheless, the sound somewhat muffled as he raises his bottle to take a hearty swig. trevor could ( and likely will ) spend the rest of his life trying to understand michael's reasoning behind his decision to betray him, and he'd still never understand it. when michael says insane shit like this, it only further confuses him. after decades of unwavering loyalty, a countless number of times having saved michael's ass and him returning the favor, for it to all end with michael organizing a hit on him– and for him to think he's the good guy for doing so! trevor scoffs, knocks his knee against michael's.

❝ any other day, man. any other fuckin' day, you were. i thought so, anyways. brad fuckin' hated you. ❞ he smirks. ❝ he wanted to kick you outta the crew, you know. somethin' about your big, fat ego or your big, fat ass. pissed me off every time he brought it up, 'cause what had you ever done, huh? sure, you were a bossy, arrogant asshole, but we were all fuckin' assholes. ❞ his smile slowly falls, bottle resting against his leg as he lightly bounces it. ❝ i defended you every time, and you were planning on puttin' us in the dirt. i ain't exactly a peach myself, but even i wouldn't have pulled a stunt like that. so, no, you most definitely were not the good guy. ❞

[heatslept]

@mikeyds said:    “I’m gonna find a way to make this right with you.”

if trevor were younger and dumber– or if this hadn’t been the millionth time he’d heard something like this come out of michael’s mouth– maybe he would’ve been more inclined to believe him. maybe if his crime against trevor hadn’t been so egregious, michael wouldn’t need to try so desperately to make things right between them. but trevor isn’t young and dumb ( anymore ), and michael had royally fucked him. it’s just too deep a wound for time to heal. trevor laughs bitterly, hands curling into fists at his sides.

❝ oh, are you, now? you’re gonna make things right? you need a little time to come up with a plan? guess ten years just wasn’t enough for you, eh? ❞ his jaw clenches, the muscles in his hands contract, his nails leave crescent-shaped impressions in the palms of his hands. ❝ the time for reconciliation or repentance or whatever you’re lookin’ for is long since passed. you’re more than welcome to try makin’ it up to me, michael, but unless you used your back-stabbing blood money to buy your fat ass a time machine, ain’t much you can do about it now. ❞

this would be the perfect opportunity for michael to respond in his usual manner: overly-defensive, dismissive of trevor’s feelings– like an asshole. but he doesn’t, and whether it’s because of that or the sincerity in michael’s eyes, trevor can’t help but feel the smallest– the smallest– twinge of guilt. his fingers slowly uncurl, one hand rising so he may jab his index finger into the center of michael’s chest. ❝ but i guess you can start... by buying me a beer. ❞

[streetknown-moved]

@mikeyds​ asked: “You’re a good time, you know that?”

“Am I really? Maybe you’ve just forgotten what it’s like to fuck around and have dangerous fun... can’t say I ever forgot, not even when I was locked up for, uh-- fuck. Dunno. Five years?” It’s hard to remember most of her time there. The days all blur together and the faces turn into one, both of the inmates and the guards and officers. She’s been out for a while now, but the habits built in there are hard to kill. She doesn’t know much about Michael, but with the way he carries himself, the shit he knows how to do-- she thinks he probably spent some time in prison like she did. She’s usually pretty good at figuring out when people are like her. Chaos knows chaos, though she also knows Michael has his much more... contained than she does. Years of experience and maybe even burning out once upon a time. She hasn’t gotten to that point yet. Maybe in a couple more years, who knows.

“Here, let me.” The lighter is snatched from his hand as she lights it up herself, bringing it close to his cigarette to set it aflame for him, bright blues never parting from his, even as the smoke rises between them. She smiles at him. “You ain’t bad yourself. Not one bit.”

[heatslept]

@mikeyds​ said:    ‘there’s always time for dental hygiene.’

considering michael had been whining all morning about how desperately they needed to get on the road, he's got a lot of fucking nerve delaying their departure now– over whether or not trevor had brushed his teeth, of all things. trevor’s mouth twists into a humorless smile, his head slowly tilts to one side. ❝ jesus– really? fuckin' really, townley? fine! ❞ rather unceremoniously, trevor tosses his duffel bag onto his bed, aggressively digging through its contents until he finds his toothbrush and toothpaste. ❝ you're really fuckin' obnoxious, you know that? we haven't even eaten yet; what if i wanted to get some orange juice, eh? your weird desire to control my every move is about to ruin my breakfast, and considering it's the most important meal of the day, you better fuckin' hope it doesn't ruin the rest of my day! ❞

he only grows more irritable as he moves about the motel room; by the time the toothbrush actually comes in contact with his teeth, his grip on the stupid thing has tightened to the point of turning his knuckles white, his teeth threatening to shatter with how harshly they grind together. he continues his rant around the toothbrush, toothpaste dripping down his chin as he speaks. after about thirty seconds or so, trevor stomps over to the bathroom, spitting into the sink as loudly as possible before returning to where his bag sits on the bed. he shoves the toothbrush back inside, slings the bag over his shoulder, and looks at michael with wide, angry eyes.

❝ there! happy? can we please hit the fuckin' road now? ❞ trevor slams his shoulder against michael's as he forces his way past. ❝ y’know lester’s gonna blame me for us bein’ late, yeah? you ever think about that? hope it was worth it, mike; sun’s barely up and you’re already causin’ problems. ❞

[heatslept]

@mikeyds​ said:    ❝ i didn’t want to do it…but it had to be done. ❞

the sound of michael’s voice alone is enough to give trevor a headache, but when he’s whining, it becomes exponentially less bearable. what starts as a gentle pressure behind the eyes gradually builds until every syllable out of michael’s mouth is pounding against trevor’s skull. the final straw is the way he ends this self-pitying monologue. it had to be done. what a fucking cliché. trevor can’t help it; he throws his head back in loud, manic laughter. when his gaze lands back on michael, however, his smile is gone entirely, lips instead curling into a snarl, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing.

❝ oh, spare me the fuckin' dramatics, michael. it don’t matter how much you try to twist things, you didn't have to do shit. ❞ trevor jabs his index and middle fingers into michael's chest, nudging him emphatically as he talks. ❝ nah, you wanted to do it. or you wanted out, and you just didn't have the 'nads to tell me yourself– or you didn't trust us, or you just didn't want anything to do with us anymore, or– or god fuckin' forbid you really hated me so much you just wanted me dead! but don't bullshit me or yourself– or brad!– with this "it had to be done" crap. it didn't. have. to be. done! ❞ he gives michael one last firm shove, immediately closing the space he created between them to loom over him.

❝ i don’t care why you did it. alright? at the end of the day, all i see is a fat turd who’s stuck so far up his own ass, he can’t see past his own bullshit. you, michael– my best friend– tried to have me put in the ground. there is never going to be a reason good enough to justify that shit. i don’t get why that seems to be so difficult for you to grasp. ❞