Dec 25, 2017
Artist: http://samijen.tumblr.com
Recipient: http://thehomoadventuresofroosterteeth.tumblr.com
seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from Türkiye
seen from Yemen
seen from China
seen from Hungary
seen from France
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Hungary
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
Artist: http://samijen.tumblr.com
Recipient: http://thehomoadventuresofroosterteeth.tumblr.com
Author: http://thehomoadventuresofroosterteeth.tumblr.com
Recipient: http://ddemonicpanda.tumblr.com
Summary: Things for Gavin and Ryan are pretty great: successful members of the Fake AH crew, loving relationship finally solidified, a GREAT sex life--but what happens when everything gets turned upside down? What happens when everything changes?
Warnings: N/A
WordCount: 5,707
For Gavin Free, nothing could quite compare to sailing down the main roads of Los Santos on the back of a motorbike, one arm wrapped tightly around his boyfriend’s waist, the other extended behind him firing shots at pursuing police units. The thrill of the chase, the wind whipping violently through his hair, the danger of it all--it was second to nothing, and he couldn’t get enough.
“Jesus, Gav, if you actually held onto me with both arms we might be able to get away a bit faster!” Ryan called over the roar of the motorbike engine. His voice echoed tinnily through the comm lodged in Gavin’s ear, and Gavin could pick up the distinct sounds of Michael and Geoff laughing. He grinned, aimed at a cop, and promptly shot off the man’s hat.
“You wouldn’t let me fall, Rye, I have complete faith in you!”
Ryan took a sharp turn down a sideroad and Gavin yelped, lurching forward to wrap his other arm around Ryan’s waist. He could feel the vibrations of Ryan’s deep chuckle as he flattened himself against the taller man’s back.
“Nevermind, you’re a maniac, I never want to ride with you again!” Gavin babbled, sucking in a sharp breath as a series of bullets whizzed past them. Shaking slightly--from the strange mix of fear, adrenaline, and unbridled excitement that he was absolutely used to at this point--Gavin lifted his gun arm and blindly began firing off shots behind them. The sounds of yelling and skidding tires was entirely reassuring.
“I can’t shake these assholes,” Ryan called out over the commotion as Gavin peeled himself off the older man’s back and actually tried to pick off the swiftly growing hoard of police behind them.
“Just keep going down the root, my trigger finger’s getting itchy,” Michael replied. Amid the action, Gavin spared a moment to imagine the redhead poised on a rooftop, detonator gripped tightly in his fist. The Brit grinned as he watched two cops on motorbikes collide as Ryan turned a sharp corner down a slim alleyway.
The day had been run-of-the-mill for the Fakes: bank robbery with a simultaneous jewelry store heist nextdoor. Gavin had put on the gaudiest gold from the front of the store before joining Geoff and Jeremy in the bank vaults. The metal hung warm and heavy from his neck and wrists as he helped stuff armloads of cash and valuables into crates, filling him with a particular sort of glee.
“Try not to blow the both of us up, Michael.”
“No promises, Ryan, Gavin stole my Elite controller last week and still hasn’t given it back.”
The easy banter flowing through the comms became distant background noise as Gavin focused on actually trying not to fall off the motorbike and do himself in on the rough pavement. When they emerged from the alleyway, two more groups of LSPD officers attempted to head them off. Gavin noticed several of the officers were Hybrids, which gave him immense satisfaction--if they had actually had call in Hybrid officers, the Fakes had to have every available member of LSPD on their tails.
A successful heist it was indeed.
“You’re coming up on the detonation point, head’s up.”
Michael’s voice tore Gavin from his own thoughts. Firing his last shot at a cop with rather unsightly antlers, he folded himself back against Ryan, looping both arms securely around the older man’s waist.
“Ready?” Ryan murmured, low enough that the comms couldn’t quite pick it up, and Gavin really felt it more than heard it.
“Always,” the Brit replied, grin spreading across his face.
The motorbike sped past a light pole, and then the world exploded into bright fire and noise and Gavin felt laughter bubbling up through him, roaring heat curling around him.
---
“That was bloody amazing,” Gavin said for the tenth time. Ryan smiled as he climbed off the motorbike and cracked his back. It popped with a satisfying click, and he let out a low groan--being hunched over the thing for two hours was killer on his spine.
“Shall we?” he said after a moment, offering a hand to the Brit. Gavin beamed and linked their fingers together, steering them toward the exit of the garage.
“That was insane, did you see how many cops we had following us?”
Ryan hummed in response, falling quickly into step with the younger man. Just in case, the Fakes had started storing their getaway vehicles in a seperate garage several blocks away from their main tower. Ryan didn’t mind walking the short distance back to headquarters. It gave him a chance to unwind after a heist--and usually a chance to spend some alone time with his boyfriend. Sure, they had plenty of time together, but the weeks before a heist were usually spent together as a crew, and Jack had made the two of them promise not to grope each other during another team planning session. It had been a bit since the two of them had any time to themselves.
The late afternoon sun gleamed bright, catching in the coif of Gavin’s blond hair. The gaudy gold jewelry the younger man had lifted during the heist hung off of him like part of a costume, reflecting the fading beams onto the pavement. Gavin was glowing.
“-and I shot that dude’s hat off, Ryan, it was so fucking funny, I wish you could have seen his face!”
As the two continued toward the main tower, Ryan noticed a hunched figure on the sidewalk up ahead. Wrapped in a shredded blanket and a hat with holes cut out to accommodate her large, rabbit-like ears, the homeless Hybrid looked pitiful. Ryan felt something tug at his heart. He nudged Gavin, who nearly tripped over his own feet.
“What, what is it?”
Ryan didn’t answer, as he had dropped Gavin’s hand and was already approaching the Hybrid. The woman, who had been staring blankly toward the ground, let out a high-pitched scream as Ryan came closer to her. Belatedly, Ryan realized he was still wearing his Vagabond mask and paint, which probably didn’t make him look as well-meaning as he intended.
“Please, ma’am, I don’t want to hurt you, I just wanted to help out,” he said softly, lifting up his hands, palms out. The Hybrid quieted, but her eyes remained wide and weary.
Ryan looked behind him and let out a soft, “Come here!” Gavin came closer, barely even looking at the woman.
“Gimme one of those stupid necklaces,” Ryan muttered. Gavin spluttered and grasped the chains around his neck in his fist.
“But Ryan--”
“Gavin, you have like, fifteen of them, surely you can spare one so a homeless woman can eat tonight,” Ryan deadpanned. Gavin groaned, rolled his eyes, and reluctantly began taking off one of the stolen necklaces, handing it to Ryan with a sigh.
“Thanks, fucker,” Ryan murmured sarcastically. He took a small step closer to the Hybrid, who hadn’t moved an inch. He carefully held out the gold to her, with a smile he knew she couldn’t see, but hoped she could sense.
Slowly, very slowly, the Hybrid stretched out her hand and took the offered necklace. She studied it carefully, then looked at Ryan, a calculating expression on her face.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered in a hoarse voice.
“No problem,” Ryan replied as warmly as he could. With that, he turned on his heel and took hold of Gavin’s hand, yanking him down the street.
“Jesus, Rye, what the hell was that?” Gavin yelped. Ryan rolled his eyes.
“It wouldn’t kill you to be kind to those less fortunate than you, Gav.”
“Yeah, but she’s a Hybrid, she’s just like, she’s not right, she’s a thing, yeah?”
Ryan huffed a sigh--Gavin wasn’t entirely wrong. After the virus had begun spreading into humans at a high pace a few years back, a social hierarchy had formed, with humans firmly on top. Most of the public considered Hybrids as simply intrinsically less, with a small by vocal group calling for group extermination. Ryan wasn’t sure where he stood on the whole Hybrids issue, but he figured no one should be made to starve, and certainly shouldn’t be killed for the sake of “maintaining the purity of humanity,” whatever that meant.
It was confusing as shit and Ryan often longed for the previous decade.
“Maybe I just wanted you to take off all that ridiculous bling before a crow came down to peck our eyes out,” Ryan said tiredly. Another grin spread across his face at the sound of Gavin’s spluttering.
“Hey, you take that back, this shit is fucking fantastic--”
---
“Now, that heist last week was super successful,” Geoff declared from the head of the long table. Michael let out a whoop and high-fived Jeremy, Jack shooting them a fond look. Gavin glanced toward Ryan, who was leaned back in his chair, a smug look on his face.
“But, but, we’ve got some other shit to deal with,” continued Geoff. Michael sobered quickly--kiss-ass, Gavin thought--and cleared his throat.
“What’s up, boss?”
“One of the other crews here in Los Santos, the Gremlins, want to meet up to discuss a possible truce. Apparently one of the local arms dealers has been screwing them on pricing and they think the influence of Fake AH could help persuade him to lower his rates.”
Gavin perked up, eyes darting over to Ryan, then back at Geoff. Truce talks mean negotiation, and negotiation means The Golden Boy and his personal guard, the Vagabond. Tendrils of excitement fluttered in his stomach at the thought of it.
“So we need to send in Gavin and Ryan first, see what’s up and figure out preliminary negotiations. After they get back we’ll get together again and see what we can do. If we can get the Gremlins on our side, even if it’s only for a bit, we could really make some headway on regaining our San Andreas territory.” Geoff had what Gavin called the ‘evil genius’ expression on--the look he really only got when the thought of total territory control sucked him in.
“Gavin, Ryan, do you want any of us to come with you? The Gremlins have a nasty track record of showing up with reinforcements,” Jack asked. Gavin shook his head, meeting Ryan’s gaze. They could handle it together.
“We’ve got this, thanks Jack,” Ryan replied from across the table.
“Jack, you forgot, this is Gavin and Ryan’s weird sex thing,” Jeremy said with a laugh, “You don’t want to be around them when they do negotiations.”
Michael promptly burst into a fit of laughter, with Geoff close behind. Gavin let out an exasperated sigh but smiled all the same. The others often poked fun at he and Ryan spending time together, but this far in the game, it really didn’t both him. Besides, the two of them could go for a nice evening on the town after the meetup, perhaps rent a room at one of the downtown highrise hotels and order the most expensive champagne on the room service menu…
Maybe Jeremy wasn’t entirely wrong about it being a sex thing.
---
Gavin had been Geoff Ramsey’s Golden Boy for years, and he loved it. The power that came from his status filled him with a kind of personal satisfaction that was rivaled only by giving Ryan an orgasm and convincing Ryan to do dumb shit with him.
Being the Golden Boy meant putting on ridiculously expensive clothing, styling his hair with an ungodly amount of product, and wearing the most horrendous golden sunglasses he could find. It was like armour, in a way--his protection against those beneath him, who would have him destroyed were it not for the sheer amount of power Gavin held over them.
Being the Golden Boy meant talking pretty, taking no shit, and getting what he wanted, whenever he wanted. And he was pretty damn good at it. The reputation he had garnered certainly helped--
Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or he’ll set his Vagabond on your ass.
Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or he’ll make sure the next Fake AH heist is pinned on your crew.
Don’t piss off Ramsey’s Golden Boy, or you won’t be walking around for much longer.
Power-trip didn’t remotely begin to express what Gavin experienced.
He loved living amid the whispered fear, his cold exterior proper protection against any and all who dared to oppose him. It had taken him so long, so many years to get to where he was, and he fucking loved it.
---
“I don’t like this,” Ryan murmured and he and Gavin approached the abandoned shipping port warehouse the Gremlins had requested as a meeting spot. Decked in his full body armour, assault rifle strapped to his back, Ryan felt out of place on the small pier, and a shiver of discomfort pulled in the pit of his stomach.
“They won’t try anything, Rye. And even if they do, we can handle it.” Gavin had already slipped into his Golden Boy persona, meaning his words were dripping with a elegant venom that Ryan thought was the funniest thing in the world.
(He had seen Gavin at 7 AM with wild bedhead cradling a cup of coffee, nearly drowning in one of Ryan’s shirts, looking at him with wide doe eyes glittering in the morning light like emeralds--soft, vulnerable, adorable, nothing like the sharp angles and cold metal of Gavin’s favorite presentation.)
Which also meant that he was going to be an awful prick for the next half hour, because Golden Boy Gavin was the ultimate, sure-of-himself, know-it-all asshole. It was arguably the worst part of being the muscle during the negotiation meetings.
“Whatever you say,” Ryan replied tersely, squaring his shoulders and wrenching the warehouse doors open.
They’re greeted by four members of the Gremlins sitting around a card table in the center of the warehouse, dim fluorescent lighting painting shadows along the walls. The crew members appeared to be playing some kind of game with throwing knives, with several lodged in a post several feet away. At the sound of the doors opening, a tall brunet looked up, knife poised above his head.
“Ah, the Golden Boy has arrived,” he announced, lowing his arm and indicating for the other Gremlin members to stand. Ryan scanned them quickly: two other men and a woman, all lean muscle and utterly blank expressions. Not too hard to take out if need be.
“Please, no need to stand. We’re just having a casual little chat, yeah?” Gavin said smoothly, his syllables drawn out ever so slightly. Ryan felt a sharp spike of admiration shoot through him like a lightning bolt as he watched Gavin’s controlled composure, the way he moved as if he owned the room and everyone in it. There was a reason they usually had sex after negotiation talks…
The meeting went about the same as others--the tall brunet making a request of a truce for a temporary period, Gavin explaining the usual Fake AH terms, all routine and something Ryan usually tuned out in favor of trying to intimidate the Gremlin guards.
It was slightly childish, but Ryan never claimed to not be immature, so he stood straight and proud and practiced spinning and throwing a small dagger he always kept strapped to his thigh. Gavin had gotten it for him when the two had gone on a weekend excursion to a renaissance festival in the northern part of the state, jokingly asking if Ryan could take anyone out with it before they left the faire grounds. He had refrained, but only because it was a nice weekend and it would have been a hassle to make a hasty getaway back to Los Santos.
“So that’s it then,” Gavin said loudly, signaling Ryan to be on alert just in case. Some crews would try and pull something right when they were leaving, which Ryan thought was just dirty and wrong.
“Actually, there’s one more thing,” the brunet said, standing and motioning for one of the other crew members. Ryan watched carefully as the woman nodded and walked swiftly over to one of the warehouse walls. The sound of mechanical beeps echoed through the empty space, and Ryan realized with a sinking heart that there must have been some sort of control panel on the wall.
“Nathanial, what exactly are you--” Gavin started, a hard edge in his voice. Ryan tore his eyes away from the woman to Gavin and the taller man, ready to jump in should the need arise.
“I’m so sorry, fellas,” the brunet said conversationally, reaching under his seat and withdrawing what appeared to be a gas mask, “But you see, we don’t actually have any problems with any arms dealers. We just wanted to get some Fake AH members down here so we could test out this concentrated virus sample we got our hands on. It was fucking expensive, so it’s a good thing we got ourselves the Vagabond and the Golden Boy, huh?”
Ryan was debating the relative merits of just throwing his dagger at the woman over at the wall when a faint hissing noise began emanating from the ceiling. All of the Gremlin members had donned identical masks, and the brunet’s eye gleamed from beneath his.
Not quite thinking, Ryan threw himself forward and grabbed the stunned Gavin by the wrist--unfortunately, his reaction times tended to suffer when he got into the Golden Boy headspace--and ran toward the warehouse door. He didn’t stop running until they were back in the empty lot they had parked in.
The ride back to base was silent. It usually took a bit of time for Gavin to return to what Ryan categorized as “normal,” and when things went wrong, that time usually doubled. Ryan, meanwhile, usually brooded over his own mistakes, thanking everything under the sun that Gavin hadn’t been physically injured.
“We need to check ourselves into quarantine,” Ryan finally said as he navigated the car into the garage. This seemed to snap Gavin out of whatever dimension he had slipped into, as his head whipped around to face Ryan and his mouth dipped into a deep frown.
“Ryan, the absolute last thing I need right now is to be put in a sterile room and poked at by people in protective gear,” he growled cooly. Ryan matched his frown, wishing he could let himself and Gavin curl up in their shared bed as they decompressed.
“Gavin, we were just exposed to some sort of mystery virus. This could be anything, it could be lethal, we need to get checked out and make sure we aren’t the fucking, typhoid Marys of the demon disease apocalypse or something.”
Logic rarely worked on Golden Boy Gavin, and now was no exception. Gavin remained nonplused, and Ryan let out a huff through his nose.
“I swear to God, Gavin, if you don’t come to quarantine I’ll carry you there myself.”
---
Gavin woke in stages. Everything felt hazy and weird and he couldn’t quite remember where he was. His eyes peeled open slowly, and the harsh fluorescent lights made his head pound.
That’s when the last few days came back, clear as a bell: the negotiation with the Gremlins that went wrong, the admittance into quarantine, the repeated battery of tests for foreign pathogens. Caleb and the rest of the med team couldn’t find anything wrong with either of them, but decided keeping Gavin and Ryan in quarantine for a few days wouldn’t be the end of the world. Gavin just wanted out so he could talk with Geoff about just how to get back at those lying little shits.
Then Gavin got tired--a bone-tired that felt like his entire being needed to go to sleep for years. He couldn’t tell if hours or days had passed since he let himself fall into the inky depths of sleep.
He shifted on the cot, uncomfortable, then promptly froze. Something was sticking into his back. Something boney and angular and soft--
Gavin tilted his head and felt his entire body still.
He had wings.
He hadn’t had wings when he had gone to sleep. He certainly hadn’t had wings when he went to go talk with the fucking Gremlin negotiators.
He had wings.
Thoughts refused to process. A few moments later, stunned and angry and scared, Gavin faded back into deep, dreamless sleep.
---
Ryan stared at his reflection in the polished hospital bay mirror. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make the horns on the top of his head go away. They were stark white, curved inward, and sharp as a knife. He had nearly drawn blood when he first touched them.
The Gremlins had somehow gotten their hands on a concentrated hybrid virus sample, the bastards. Caleb had explained that, in the grand scheme of viral warfare, they could have gotten into something much worse. Ryan had just nodded and marveled at the strange experience of having a fucking tail.
It hadn’t occurred until he was alone that, for all intents and purposes, the Vagabond was dead.
For years, Ryan had been the Vagabond: the enigma, the night-terror, the masked assassin who could kill you in one hundred different ways of varying creativity. Everyone feared the Vagabond. Gavin had been absolutely terrified of him when he first joined the crew. Admittedly, he had rarely taken on off his mask around anyone, and the mask was an important element of being the Vagabond.
He had liked that power, in the same way he assumed Gavin enjoyed the power of his whole Golden Boy persona. He liked that he wasn’t pushed around, wasn’t underestimated. People feared him, yes, but respected him all the same. Everyone knew not to get on the Vagabond’s bad side.
And now the Vagabond was a Hybrid.
No one respected Hybrids. Sure, lots of people pitied Hybrids, sympathized with them and felt bad for them, but no one respected them. They were jokes, less-than, creatures. There were crowds of people calling for segregation, removal of rights, extermination--
The Vagabond was dead. The Gremlins had killed him.
---
When Gavin woke again, it was to the feeling of someone carding their fingers through his hair. The comforting gesture eased him gently out of sleep, and for a moment, everything was normal.
Then his back twinged in discomfort and everything crashed down again and dammit, he was crying.
“Gavin--” Ryan started, his hands coming to a stop on Gavin’s head. The younger man flipped heavily onto his side, back toward his boyfriend, and silently willed Ryan to go back to stroking his hair as tears streamed steadily down his face.
For a few moments, the two stayed still. Gavin watched blankly as his vision blurred, his mind entirely blank.
“Are you alright, Gavin?”
Ryan’s voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet of the room like a knife. Gavin’s still, silent meltdown shattered like glass, giving way to an intense fury and frustration that distantly shocked him. He sat bolt upright and turned to face Ryan, eyes burning and heart pounding.
“No, Ryan, I am not alright,” he said thickly, fighting around a lump in his throat, “Because I’m a bloody Hybrid and I have lost literally everything I’ve fought for. You think I can go out and be a powerful negotiator with these fucking wings? You think anyone will ever take the Golden Boy seriously if he’s got feathers flapping behind him?
No one gives a shit about Hybrids. It’s easy to take down a Hybrid. They’re weak, they’re useless, they don’t have power or glory or respect. I’ve lost fucking everything that Geoff helped me get. I’ll end up back on the streets, just like before, picking pockets and eating scraps and getting kicked and beaten because of this virus. I’ve got nothing.”
Gavin quieted as a round of heavy sobs ripped through his throat, overcoming him. He hunched forward, his crying turned harsh and ugly and raw. The entire time, Ryan remained quiet, and Gavin almost started yelling again, because Ryan always had some sort of logic to apply to a situation. His continued silence just further confirmed everything Gavin feared.
After what felt like an eon, Gavin felt himself run out of tears. It was like someone had turned off a faucet--one moment, water streamed from his eyes, the next, nothing. His breathing evened out, and his lungs ached for air and water. Through it all, though, there was an underlying feeling of relief, but Gavin stubbornly ignored it.
“You didn’t lose everything.”
Gavin quickly looked up and blearily stared at Ryan. He had almost missed the older man’s words.
“You didn’t lose everything, Gavin.”
Suddenly, Gavin was being wrapped up in Ryan’s arms, the older man sliding down onto the bed and pulling the Brit into a tight embrace. Gavin felt his hands briefly sweep past the wings on his back, pulling away quickly each time he touched them as if they had burned him. All the same, Ryan held him, cradled him in his arms and melded their bodies together. Gavin buried his face in Ryan’s neck, sniffling.
“What do I have left?”
“Me, you idiot.”
Gavin huffed out a laugh and nuzzled into Ryan’s neck, nearly buzzing as Ryan rubbed soothing circles on his lower back. For a while, the two lay together, wrapped up in one another. Gavin felt his breathing hitch every so often, a soft hiccup catching him by surprise more than once. Soon, though, he was able to match Ryan breath for breath, and a sort of numb contentment flooded his body.
It was only then that he realized Ryan had horns.
---
Things were slow going for a while. When the others first saw them, Gavin couldn’t help but feel hurt by their stares. He knew, deep down, that the other four couldn’t give less of a shit if they tried, but deep social prejudice is hard to beat. Gavin was still struggling to wrap his brain around it.
But after a while, things returned to vaguely normal. Heists were planned, video games were played. Michael and Jeremy wrestled with Gavin after dinner, rolled around on the ground with him and Geoff egged them on and Jack rolled his eyes and Ryan ignored them in favor of cleaning his guns. But it still felt off.
(Gavin had to cut holes in all his shirts and jackets. Well, in honesty, he convinced Lindsay to do it for him, because he was notoriously bad at cutting straight lines, and he would rather not accidentally shred his entire wardrobe.
Taking showers was admittedly easier than he expected. His shower was spacious enough to accommodate the wings, and said wings were rather water resistant. He probably should have done a bit of research on birds, but the thought of doing so made his stomach turn uncomfortably, so he supposed he could figure shit out himself.
He wondered, occasionally, if he could attempt flight. But then he remembered that he wasn’t the hugest fan of heights in general.)
Gavin struggled through the foggy depression that had settled over him. Things became rather difficult, he realized, when your entire life changed. When every stigma and prejudice he once held was suddenly turned inwards. When he couldn’t walk down the street without feeling the judgmental stares of hundreds. When he caught sight of his sunglasses and hair gel and a cold, isolating hurt settled into his bones.
The Golden Boy was no more. Everything Geoff had given him, everything that he had built up and the reputation he had worked so hard to maintain, was gone. The power, the glory, the legend, it was all gone.
Because no one listened to a Hybrid. No one respected a Hybrid. No one held a full conversation with a Hybrid. The Golden Boy was a Hybrid now, and that was as good as a death sentence.
The final nail in the coffin was when Geoff sent Michael and Jack to the next negotiation talk.
“It would probably be for the best they went,” Geoff reasoned, eyes soft and pitying, making something deep in Gavin burn bright hot with anger, “We’ll figure this out Gavin, but just, for right now, let’s do it this way.”
So things weren’t great.
---
Ryan gave himself two weeks to feel sorry for himself. For two weeks, he moped around the tower, cleaned his gun repeatedly, and played through the entire campaign of Skyrim--twice. At his final count, he had consumed forty-six cans of Diet Dr. Pepper.
But after the two weeks were up, Ryan went back to his normal schedule. He woke up early, he worked out, he ate breakfast, he went about normal business. Everything was normal. Everything was fine.
Except it wasn’t.
Every time he picked up his Vagabond mask, he felt nauseous. He thought of how he horns would protrude through the top and it made his head throb. While Geoff hadn’t outright said it, Ryan could sense that they were going to need to discuss the Vagabond’s involvement in further heists. Perhaps Ryan would participate maskless...
He couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.
He supposed the worst thing to come out of this whole thing was that he and Gavin had barely spent any time together whatsoever. They had both retreated to their separate rooms after being released from quarantine, but that was weeks ago, and they hadn’t said more than three sentences to each other since that afternoon in Gavin’s hospital room.
It was starting to drive Ryan insane.
The two of them had only been dating for a few months before this whole thing happened, and now, Ryan feared, it seemed like it was all over.
So he gave himself a week to wallow before resolving to actually fucking talk to Gavin so he could figure out if he needed to mourn their relationship and move on or what.
The hard part was plucking up the courage to actually talk to Gavin. It seemed as if the younger man had put up walls to go along with his wings, because he never once looked approachable. Even when Michael or Jeremy had him pinned to the floor, the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Ryan hated it. He missed Gavin like a hole in his goddamn heart, and he need him, dammit! Had he not also just gone through a huge emotional and physical trauma?
He needed the comfort of his boyfriend as much as his boyfriend probably needed him.
---
Gavin was nuzzled into the couch, tapping away at some dumb game on his phone, when he felt the cushions dip next to him. Locking his phone, Gavin turned to face his visitor and felt a bit shocked to see Ryan sitting on the couch next to him, looking nervously at his hands.
The man looked slightly gaunt. A healthy dusting of stubble had sprouted along his jaw, and his hair was mused and slightly wild, the bright-white horns nestled in it poking out proudly. Gavin realized it had probably been a week since he had focused his attention on Ryan, let alone had a conversation with him. An anxious guilt spread through him.
“Hi, Rye.”
The words shocked him as they came out, as he hadn’t thought he was going to say anything. Ryan seemed equally surprised, looking up and meeting Gavin’s eyes. A warm spark of joy bounced around Gavin’s chest at the familiar gaze.
“Hi Gavin.”
Gavin let out a soft laugh at Ryan’s soft tone.
“So, we haven’t had much of a talk in a while, huh?”
“You could say that,” Ryan said with a sigh, tilting his gaze back toward his hands. Gavin mourned the loss of it before continuing.
“Well, I guess we should talk now, then.”
“We should.”
Another bout of silence filled the living room.
“Okay, look, we’re both fucked up right now. This is just, a really fucked up situation. We’re both too inside our own heads and everything’s been turned sideways and we both just want everything to go back to normal.”
Gavin smiled widely at Ryan’s words, and motioned for him to continue.
“So I’m going to be honest. I...I don’t know how to fix this. I feel so goddamn lost right now, because I can’t be the Vagabond anymore, not the way I was before. And I know you can’t be the Golden Boy or whatever, either, because humanity sucks and people are assholes and there’s nothing we can do to fix that right now.
But I know that I really fucking miss me and you. I miss holding you and kissing you and arguing about dumb shit together. I miss my boyfriend. I miss you, Gavin.”
“I miss you too,” Gavin whispered, heart beating fast for some reason. He hadn’t realized just how alone and scared he had been for the past few weeks until Ryan said it, vocalized his fears and everything he was thinking. Gavin loved how he could do that, put things into words and make it pretty and simple, even though this situation was everything but that.
“Then let’s get through this together,” said Ryan, taking Gavin’s hands in his own and leaning their foreheads together, “Let’s stick together and figure out how we fix this because we have each other and no one can take that away from us.”
“Okay,” Gavin murmured, pulling away slightly, “Just don’t gouge my eyes out with those.” He eyed Ryan’s horns jokingly, and Ryan let out a loud laugh before pulling him into a deep kiss. Gavin groaned, eyes slipping closed, and he felt every bone in his body relax as he returned the kiss. It was passionate and slow and full of promise, love.
Even as Gavin swiped his tongue playfully against the seam of Ryan’s lips, he knew that this wasn’t a precursor to sex. It was a precursor to their new future, the new start for both of them. They could, they would get through this, together. The Golden Boy and the Vagabond would pull through.
(Alright, maybe it was also a precursor to sex, but that’s not as beautiful and poignant.)
Magic
Author: http://roosterteethinserts.tumblr.com
Recipient: http://thehomoadventuresofroosterteeth.tumblr.com
Summary: Head boy Ryan and Quidditch player Gavin secretly like each other, and a bet changes it.
Word Count: 2188
Ryan's POV
"Hey Ry, do you think you can help me on my Herbology homework?"
I looked up from my Potions essay to see Barbara, one of my friends that's in year six, which is a year under me. I nodded my head, gesturing to one of the empty seats at the library's table. She grinned and sat down, opening her textbook to show me the pages she needs help on. I pushed up my glasses, scooting closer so I can read what she's trying to ask.
It was the newest assignment that we had which was having to describe what Gilly Weed is and any information that is helpful. I finished within an hour or so, knowing a bit about it and having to look up only small portions of information, which is the main reason why I was here and not patrolling the halls, like I normally do after classes.
I relayed my information to Barbara, and she hurriedly wrote everything down. I knew that Herbology wasn't her favorite classes, but she still needed to take it. She was more of an animal and charms person, while I loved any and all subjects that were interesting enough, but History of Muggles and Divination aren't really my forte, but I earned high marks anyways through my studying and intellect.
After my homework was done and Barbara was helped, I stood up, using my wand to levitate the stack of books so I can bring them to their rightful place. I spent almost five minutes finding the correct shelves for all of my books. Barbara was waiting patiently at the table with all of our stuff, knowing that I would easily gain her access into the dormitories since she has had the problem of not getting in once or twice within her years here at Hogwarts.
She adjusted her robes, "Are you ready now?"
I nodded my head, "Of course, let's head back to the dorms."
The walk there was mostly silent, except for the small talk we had.
"Are you going to the quidditch game tomorrow? I've been hearing it'll be a good game."
I sighed, "I don't know. Geoff and Jack have been wanting to meet up in Hogsmeade for a few drinks and I've been busy. Why are you asking?"
She teased, "Gavin's playing, and you KNOW he has a crush on you. I totally ship it, like everyone else."
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the slightest blush form on my face. She stared at me knowingly, as if she knew every secret I had relating to my love life. I just shook my head.
"Don't look at me like that, otherwise I won't let you into the dorms."
She smiled, "How would you do that when I'm right next to you?"
"I'll petrify you and make sure you're locked in one of the broom cupboards for the night. Easy for the head boy."
She sighed, knowing that I absolutely would do it if she kept pestering me, and kept quiet. We quickly came to the dormitory door, and I answered the riddle to get in. I even was able to let some first years in that couldn't quite get the answer.
The next day I was awoken to an owl from one of my professors and head of Ravenclaw house, Professor Flitwick, asking if I'd attend the quidditch game for them since they would be out of town and the head of house needed to be in attendance of their house's games. I wrote back that I would happily do it, and to be safe on their journey.
Sighing, I got out of bed. I grabbed my wand and make the lights turn on so I can properly see so I can get dressed and start my day off with some breakfast before the game. I quickly pulled on my robes and grabbed my wand before exiting the dorms.
I met up with Geoff and Jack as we headed to the Great Hall. Geoff was tired- probably from being out with his girlfriend, Griffon (who is a Gryffindor)- and Jack was holding his girlfriend Caiti's hand with a bright smile on his face.
Caiti asked me, "Did you get enough sleep last night, Ryan?"
I nodded my head, "Of course, it was my day off from patrolling. I couldn't be any better."
Geoff smiled, "A few drinks at the Three Broomsticks will make you feel better, trust me."
I felt myself freeze. Jack seemed to notice this and ask what was wrong.
I confessed, "Professor Flitwick asked me to take his place tonight at the Quidditch Game and I can't really refuse, so I'm sorry that I can't go."
Geoff shook his head, "We'll just go after, it'll end by the time dinner starts anyways."
I smiled, "Thanks guys."
Geoff added, "Plus you get to see your lover. I'm sure he's excited to see you."
Caiti smiled, "I think it's cute. You know, head boy and one of the most popular quidditch players together."
I rolled my eyes, bounding towards my seat at the Ravenclaw table. I stopped in my tracks once I saw the person sitting in my seat.
His hair was messily quaffed and he was wearing the Ravenclaw quidditch uniform, which he looked good in. Gavin seemed to notice me standing there, since his eyes widened when our eyes locked.
He asked, "I'm sitting in your seat, aren't I?"
I smiled, shaking my head as if I didn't care. I took the seat next to him, filling my plate with some food.
"No, it's fine. I know you like to sit there because you like eating the muffins before a game."
I buttered my toast as I glanced to see his reaction. A faint blush filled his cheeks and I smiled to myself at the sight before me.
I made small talk with a few of the others around me, asking if they're seeing the game and other small things to pass the time. I didn't notice that Michael, who's best friends with Gavin and one of my friends, show up until he exclaimed.
"Gav!! Are you ready for me to kick your team's ass later?"
Gavin turned, "I'm not losing, Michael! Last time, you only won because your seeker caught the snitch seconds before ours."
Michael raised an eyebrow, as if he wanted to challenge Gavin on his claim. I watched cautiously, remembering the time they drank too much butterbeer and they fought each other.
Gavin said, "At least I wasn't almost kicked out of the team for hexing one of the players."
Michael retorted, "You almost died last year because you fell off your broom third year."
People around us were watching, waiting for something exciting to happen.
I butted in, "Boys, not here."
Gavin told me, "It's fine, love. I know Michael isn't going to hurt me. I'm his boi!"
I felt my heart start to pound at the nickname, and everyone around us made noise at the mention of a pet name.
Michael hugged Gavin tightly, grins on both of their faces. I smiled at their brotherly relationship as Barbara came up to me.
She told me, "You'd look cute together if you two hug like that."
Michael exclaimed, "You're my boi, boi!"
Gavin laughed, "You're my boi, too, boi."
Soon breakfast finished and the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw quidditch players left to practice before the game. I attended to Flitwick's classroom, grading any papers he needed to do and cleaning up his class. It brought me peace to see the cleaned desks and floors and the organized shelves.
Time passed quickly and I couldn't wait for the game. The rush of excitement that I felt as I walked into the locker room was a new feeling, and I couldn't tell why. I spotted Gavin and Michael, both dressed in their uniforms, chatting.
I overheard Michael tell Gavin, "Just do it. After all, I'm trying to help you here, boi! I want you to be happy, and stop nagging me about Ryan."
The Gryffindor head boy and quidditch captain, James, greeted me, and revealed me to Gavin and Michael.
He grinned, "Ryan! How've you been in the few days I haven't seen you?"
I nodded my head, "Good, busy. How's the team holding up?"
James replied, "As good as ever! I'd like to apologize in advance about your loss. My team is going to kick your team's ass."
Ravenclaw's captain, Elyse, retorted, "My team is SO better than yours!"
James raised an eyebrow, "Is that right, babe, even with our five game winning streak?"
Elyse sighed, folding her arms in defeat as she pouted at her boyfriend. James grinned at her, going to peck her cheek as an apology.
Once she was kissed, she muttered, "You better be happy that you're cute."
I turned my attention to Gavin, knowing that only a few minutes were left. I was curious about what they were talking about earlier and I needed to know.
Gavin looked to Michael for help, but Michael only shoved the Brit towards me. Gavin stumbled and almost fell on me, but I quickly caught him before he could cause the both of us to fall.
Gavin told me, "Thanks."
I nodded my head as he looked awkward and nervous, rubbing his neck as he looked away.
Gavin sighed, "I was wondering if we could bet this game."
I raised an eyebrow, "Last time we did this you lost a lot of money. Are you sure?"
Gavin nodded his head, more confident now.
"Of course, I know I'll win this time."
I was intrigued by the offer of betting. After all, it's all fun and games. I used the money I won last time to buy Gavin the newest broom for his birthday and he was overjoyed.
He told me, "If we win, I want to go out to dinner with you. If we lose, you can pick whatever you want."
I agreed, knowing that I'd win anyways. James wouldn't want to lose just because of a bet. Gavin grinned at my answer, seemingly more confident and excited about playing.
James told me, "Two minutes until it starts. You should go, Haywood."
I nodded my head, wishing my team good luck and exiting.
I watched as the game started with a strong lead by Ravenclaw. Gavin seemed to be fueled by the bet at stake by the way he moved with a look of determination across the field as one of the chasers. It's been half an hour and the snitch hasn't been caught yet.
With only a few minutes left, Gryffindor caught up with the score and the snitch is sighted by both of the seekers. I was at the edge of my seat in anticipation, watching the seekers zoom across the sky as they chased the snitch. With a last grab, Gryffindor revealed to be the winner by a mere 50 points. Cheers filled the stadium as Gryffindor celebrated their victory. I felt my heart sink at the winner, looking at the face of disappointment Gavin made.
I met up with Gavin later, seeing him sadly sitting and playing with his wand. He spotted me, a look of sadness crossing his face.
I asked, "What's wrong, Gav? It isn't like it's your first loss."
He said, "I just wanted to win so I can also win the bet."
I suddenly remembered the bet that was going on. I completely forgot when the game was going on. I felt my cheeks heat up at the thought of a date with Gavin.
He told me, "You get to do whatever, free of charge. Just tell me."
I thought and confessed, "Well...the date isn't a bad idea."
His face brightened, "So you DO like me! Michael and Barbara have been telling me, but I felt like they were teasing me."
I confessed, "I've liked you for the longest time, Gavin."
His smile widened, if possible, "How about tomorrow? Is that okay?"
I nodded my head, "I guess it's a date."
He exclaimed, "It's a date!"
I heard the chime of the clock, indicating that it's time for dinner. I turned to walk away, but Gavin grabbed my wrist. I turned, asking what he wanted, but a pair of lips landed on my cheek before I could end the sentence.
He winked, "It's an early present! See you later, Ry."
I nodded my head, dumbfounded. I walked away towards the Great Hall, trying to clear my head before I got there. Geoff caught up with me, noticing what was going on.
He teased, "Ryan and Gavin sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."
I rolled my eyes, sitting and eating some food before we left. A faint smile didn't leave my face as I thought about what exactly just happened. Gavin and I confessed to each other and now we're dating, and he even kissed my cheek. What a day. I didn't know that my crush would start to date me, but it looks like it happened. Hogwarts is truly a magical place.
Author: http://thehomoadventuresofroosterteeth.tumblr.com
Recipient: http://itsmeekaciee.tumblr.com
Summary: After Gavin bricks his phone, Burnie discovers the younger man has a secret job on the side. (Alternatively titled: "Burnie Burns is the Master of Repressing His Own Emotions and Thoughts")
Word Count: 9,015
“You’re such an idiot, Gavin.”
“What, like we didn’t already know that?”
A string of giggles erupted from the control room, echoing those on set.
“Yeah, Gus, you’re right,” Burnie conceded as Barbara snorted loudly into her beer. He shot a look at Gavin, who wore the same smug smirk he often adopted when insulted on camera. The younger man was clearly eating up all the attention focused his way, however playfully negative it might have been.
“But really, this is, what, the fourth one you’ve bricked this year?”
“The third,” Gavin corrected, wiggling said broken iPhone in the air, “It wouldn’t normally be a problem—”
“Because constantly breaking your cell phone totally isn’t a problem—” Gus interjected.
“But fucking AT&T screwed up and they changed my number, so now I have to make sure everyone’s got the new one and all that faff.”
“You could tweet it out,” Barbara suggested, carefully putting her beer on the low coffee table in front of the couch.
“Nah, I’m not that much of an idiot.”
“Eh, that’s up for debate,” added Gus. Gavin made an indignant noise and chucked his defunct phone at him, missing by a mile. Burnie laughed loudly as Gus snatched the pillow off the couch from behind Gavin’s back and swung it at the Brit, who flopped backwards and nearly upended Barbara’s beer.
It was moments like these that assured Burnie that he made the right decision, bringing Gavin to Austin all those years ago.
“Shut up and play with your new phone while I read this,” Gus finally said, chuckling as Gavin tried to right himself on the sofa.
“Can’t, I left it on my desk,” Gavin replied with a wide smile, “Like I was gonna risk shattering the damn thing the same day I got it.”
“Oh, so now you understand the value taking care of your property?”
Burnie watched as Gavin tried to ping a beer cap off Gus’s face during the ad-read, struggling not to laugh as the younger man once again missed spectacularly. So far, the Podcast was going par for the course, and Burnie didn’t even have to check his Twitter feed once.
The rest of the evening passed in its usual manner—dumb stories from Gus’s recent trips punctuated with confusing questions from Gavin that swiftly led to making fun of Gavin. The Post-Show rushed by with a single line of conversation—could a human with the ability to read binary code infect himself with a virus programmed in binary?—and that was that.
Gus sprung up from his chair as soon as the recording finished and meandered over to the control room, rubbing the spot on his cheek where Gavin had landed a successful blow with another beer cap. Burnie stood for the first time in two hours, yawning widely. The crew was already bustling about, pulling cable and tidying up the studio. The shear amount of work going on around him reminded Burnie of a time before all this started, before he started this. It was a good feeling, knowing he was the catalyst.
Nearby, Gavin was still sprawled on the couch with Barbara, engrossed in something on her phone. Probably that cat video she was talking about earlier, Burnie thought. Out of habit, Burnie pulled his own phone from his pocket and unlocked it, ignoring all the notifications that covered the lock screen. He flipped through his apps without purpose and let his thumb hover over Twitter before a text interrupted him.
Gus Sorola now
What’s Gavin’s new number? Inevitably going to
have to track him down for the podcast next week.
Burnie tapped the notification and made to type out a response, before realizing that he didn’t actually have Gavin’s new phone number. Because of course Gavin didn’t bother to send him his new number, God forbid anything happened and the older man needed to get in contact with the Brit. Huffing, Burnie turned to the sofa—
Only to find it unoccupied.
“Shit,” Burnie murmured under his breath, catching sight of Gavin fleeing the studio arm in arm with Barbara. The two were most likely off to continue drinking, as the Brit had managed to make Barbara inhale more than half of what she had been sipping the entire night.
If Burnie didn’t get Gavin’s new number now, he would inevitably forget. He was a busy guy, it wasn’t his damn fault. He also didn’t want any grousing from Gus about not getting shit done.
With a sigh, Burnie pocketed his phone and turned in the opposite direction. The new Achievement Hunter offices were across the parking lot, not too far but just far enough to be a major inconvenience if one didn’t anticipate walking over to them. Such as Burnie. Narrowly avoiding an intern with a bundle of delicately wrapped cable in her arms, Burnie escaped through the back door of the studio.
The night air was crisp, mid-November having finally brought a cold front through Texas. It had been unusually humid earlier in the day, so Burnie had forgone long sleeves. Now, he wrapped his arms around himself and wished distantly for a jacket.
The parking lot was practically empty at 10:30 at night. Most crew members that knew they were working the Podcast tended to carpool, and those who wanted to stick around to watch headed out right after the Post-Show. It was slightly creepy having to traverse across it alone, and Burnie cursed loudly, hoping that Gavin could hear him from wherever the younger man had gone to.
Swiping into the building, Burnie was no less creeped out. All the lights were off, making the long shadows that formed on the walls even more unsettling. The entire place was silent, save for the quiet hum of the heating unit. As the halls were usually filled with the boisterous noise that only Achievement Hunter could create, it was weird as hell being able to hear his own footsteps.
“Fucker had to leave his phone over here,” Burnie whispered to himself. He sped in the direction of the main room, pointedly not looking anywhere but straight ahead, and let out a sigh of relief when he was through the door.
Burnie walked over to Gavin’s desk and smiled fondly as his eyes swept over the organized chaos the younger referred to as “a system.” Old coffee mugs and random office supplies were scattered around, various game cases and wires flung down carelessly. In the middle, seeming to repel the mess, was a new iPhone 7. It wasn’t in a case, something that was of no surprise to Burnie. Gavin’s “challenge” seemed to be more of a costly backfire on his own part than anything else.
It occurred to Burnie, as he picked up the new phone and typed in the code he knew Gavin always used, that this could be considered an invasion of personal property. But anything that protected Burnie from getting a tongue-lashing from Gus was fine by him. Besides, Burnie had known Gavin so long, it felt like anything one of them owned, the other had exclusive rights to. Kind of like marriage, Burnie thought with a laugh.
Burnie tapped over to the phone app and selected the “contacts” section. The entire list was blank. Burnie rolled his eyes. With his free hand, Burnie wriggled his own phone out and edited Gavin’s contact information before carefully putting the Brit’s new phone back.
He turned to leave, but paused for a moment in deliberation. He spun on his heels and knocked over Gavin’s chair for good measure, then hurried out of the office. It never got old, fucking with the little shit.
Burnie let himself flop down on his bed, exhaustion washing over him in thick waves. It had been a very, very long day—the Immersion shoot had gone about six hours too long, the camera equipment had refused to work, and Michael had bashed his head into a low doorframe halfway through the day, requiring four stitches. Despite all the issues, it looked like Live Action was going to be able to scrape together a pretty awesome episode, but all the same. Burnie was dead fucking tired.
Realizing he should probably get under the covers, Burnie groaned and sat up, rooting through his pockets for his wallet and phone.
“Fuck my dick,” Burnie muttered, noticing a distinct lack of his building access keycard. Gavin had it—the other man had begged to borrow it earlier in the day and hadn’t given it back to Burnie before he left with Michael and Lindsay for a ride home.
Regardless, Burnie was going to need the damn thing, as he had a meeting the next day and wanted to get there early to grab some files from his office. With a disgruntled noise, Burnie picked up his phone from where it had fallen on his mattress and navigated to Gavin’s name in his contacts list. Distantly, it occurred that the last time Burnie had called or texted Gavin was before he had gotten a new number the previous week, and he hoped the idiot hadn’t gotten a new one since.
The line rang three times—Burnie knew the asshole was awake and likely editing Slow Mo Guys footage from Dan’s recent trip to Austin—before it connected. Gavin’s usual squawked greeting however, was suspiciously absent.
“’Ello love. Kind of late for this, isn’t it?”
Shocked by not being immediately torn a new one for calling so late, Burnie remained silent. Did the fucker not have his contact info, and confused him with whatever woman-of-the-week he was currently seeing? It seemed Gavin didn’t care for an answer, as he continued speaking without waiting for a response.
“Were you nervous about calling? There’s nothing to be scared about, love, lots of people need a little help when it comes to getting off. Do you need a little help? Need a tad bit more than your right hand? Did you wake up aching, wanting my voice and wishing it was more?”
What the fuck, Burnie thought eloquently, brain not connecting to his mouth. Was this some sort of elaborate joke? Perhaps a weird, exhaustion-induced dream? All the same, Burnie felt like his throat had closed tightly, and Gavin seemed particularly invested in the one-sided conversation.
“A little shy, aren’t you?” Gavin crooned sweetly, “Don’t be, love. Just close your eyes and pretend I’m there with you, curling around you, just like my voice is now. You’re warm and comfortable and safe, and you’ve got nothing holding you back. You whimper when my fingers slide down your chest, trail across your stomach, and tease the head of your cock too lightly to do anything but drive you crazy. Gods, love, you could probably hammer nails with the damn thing, you’re so hard. You moan and feel like you’re going to shake apart, and I tell you, ‘It’s alright, darling, be as loud as you want. You know I love your voice—‘ You want to tell me your name, love?”
Burnie had gone decidedly numb. He thought a small, slightly distressed noise escaped his mouth, but he couldn’t be sure. His brain was in the process of shutting down entirely because holy fuck, was Gavin a fucking phone sex operator?
“Don’t want to give out too much sensitive information, huh? Don’t worry, lots of guys don’t, nothing to be ashamed of. Besides, I don’t really need to know your name when I’m too busy littering your neck with kisses, maybe letting my teeth slide over your skin just a little bit, never too much to draw blood—unless you’re into that.
“My fingers are still dancing over the hot, angry-red skin of your dick, and you keep moaning and begging me to just get on with it, you’ve been hard so long it’s almost painful, so I finally take pity and wrap my hand tightly around you, feeling every pulse that shoots through you. You cry out and—“
Burnie hadn’t noticed his hand slowly moving up his thigh, and was thoroughly alarmed when he felt his fingers going to imitate exactly what Gavin was describing. With panic flooding through him in a rush, Burnie’s body finally caught up with his brain and he hastily hung up, cutting Gavin off mid-sentence.
Fuck. Shit. Okay, that was a lot to take in all at one time. Gavin apparently became a phone sex operator at the end of the day, and an eloquent one at that. And he was definitely into guys, no questions about that. And shit, he was good at whatever weird voice sex that had almost just occurred. He was either a natural, or had gotten in far too much practice. A constant mantra of too much, too much ran through Burnie’s head, threatening to send him into a deep panic.
So Burnie did the easiest thing possible—he pushed the entire previous five minutes to the back of his mind and locked it away behind a door labeled, “DO NOT OPEN, EVER.” He flopped back on the bed, pointedly ignoring the hardness in his boxers, and fell into an uneasy, unsatisfied slumber.
The next day, Burnie was late to work. He completely forgot that Gavin still had his building access keycard until he pulled into the parking lot, causing him to groan and accidentally press his elbow into his horn. A huddle of animators headed toward the main doors collectively jumped at the noise. Burnie rested his head against the window of his truck, letting the cool glass calm him down. He could do this. Not one to show weakness, Burnie swallowed the torrent of confusion that dared to spill out into total hysteria and hurried after the animators.
So lost in his own world, he nearly had a heart attack when he reached the door to his office—Gavin was slumped against the wall, tapping half-heartedly on his phone and yawning. At the sound of Burnie’s footsteps, he looked up and grinned.
“Sorry,” he said through a yawn as he stepped forward and handed Burnie his keycard, “Couldn’t sleep last night.”
Burnie couldn’t make eye contact. This was going to be some special sort of hell.
Over the course of the next three weeks, Burnie ended up spending a lot of time alone. He wound up doing that thing where you try not to think about something so hard, you end up only being able to think about that one thing and nothing else. Hard as he tried, Burnie couldn’t get the low, sultry sound of Gavin’s voice out of his head, the way his accent curled around words that were almost always used as insults between the two of them, not masturbation fodder. To try and lighten the mental load, Burnie took to avoiding Gavin at all costs—not being around the root of the problem would solve it, wouldn’t it?
Evidently, Gavin wasn’t all that enthused about Burnie up and ignoring him. After the night of the Immersion shoot, the Brit had invited the older man out for drinks at least six times, only to be shot down immediately with some bullshit about this meeting or that event. Burnie was running out of reasonable excuses. Each time, it was obvious Gavin thought he had done something wrong, though he never said as much. Burnie tried to ignore it.
Barbara had insisted on treating Burnie to lunch one afternoon, stating that the older man hadn’t hung out with her in ages. Gavin’s sudden appearance behind her made Burnie’s heart beat just that much faster, and a muttered apology about a meeting he had forgotten slipped from his lips. He forced himself to block out how crestfallen the two had looked in his doorway.
So maybe it was getting a little unhealthy. But how else was Burnie supposed to react? One of his oldest friends, a kid he had known since he was just that, a kid, was apparently a mother fucking phone sex operator, and into guys—a fact that Burnie had never imagined to be true—and it was just too much. It was easier on everyone if Burnie just stuck to this new recluse lifestyle, right?
One morning, as Burnie was trying to outline ideas for a live action sketch, a text caused his phone to practically vibrate off the table. Sighing and turning away from the near-blank Word document, Burnie picked up his phone and unlocked it.
Gus Sorola now
Don’t forget, Podcast tonight. I know you’re in
town, asshole, so no getting out of it.
Burnie let out a loud groan. He had completely forgotten it was Monday. The past three weeks, he had mercifully escaped being on the Podcast, with being out of town one night, claiming illness another, then insisting that Miles deserved to get more screen time.
It sucked, because Burnie genuinely enjoyed being on the Podcast. Getting to dick around for an hour and a half with his friends and get paid for it was a damn treat, no doubt, but the prospect of being around Gavin for an extended period gave him pause. Being around Gavin meant thinking about that phone call, about all it had revealed and, this being what Burnie was most trying to avoid thinking about, what that phone call had sparked in him.
It would be a lie to say Burnie hadn’t been turned on by Gavin’s whole act. He supposed that was the entire point, but he had definitely not expected his own body to be into something like that. Hell, he didn’t think another man’s voice could work him up like that. Save for a few times in college—sue him, it might have been a cliché but he was curious, dammit—Burnie had only ever gotten his rocks off with women. And it being Gavin on top of everything else…
Being on the Podcast was absolutely out of the question.
As he swiped down and prepared to expertly bullshit his way out again, a knock echoed through Burnie’s office. He paused, fingers hovering over his screen. He didn’t have a meeting scheduled, did he?
“Come in,” he called, locking his phone and setting it aside. He turned in his chair and felt his stomach jump into his throat.
Gavin stood awkwardly in his doorway, an air of nervous energy exuding from him. He had let his beard grow in a bit since the last time Burnie had looked at him long enough to notice.
“Uh, Gavin, why, er—”
“Gus said he was going to text you about the Podcast tonight and I wanted to come talk to you before you try and blow us all off again,” Gavin said in a rush, eyes burning brightly as they met Burnie’s.
“I wasn’t going to—”
“Yes, you were, you pisspot. I can tell, you’ve got that look on your face you always get when you lie.”
The fact that Gavin could so easily see through his every defense made Burnie flush.
The room was silent for a few beats before Gavin stepped forward, fully into Burnie’s office, and shut the door. He took a deep breath, looking like he was trying to psyche himself up, before looking back at Burnie. Guilt and apprehension colored his features, and Burnie instantly felt worse than he had in a long time.
“Did I do something wrong, Burnie?”
“No, Gav, you didn’t,” Burnie lied as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, already feeling a tension headache setting in. It was that or the pressure buildup of trying desperately to not think about anything at all.
“Then why the hell have you been avoiding me recently? We haven’t talked proper since the Immersion shoot and that was almost a month ago!”
Gavin looked confused and upset, and Burnie felt absolutely terrible.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, fighting to maintain eye contact, “I’ve just been busy. It’s not you, I promise.”
“Really? Because it damn well feels like it’s me.”
A heavy silence hung over the office. Burnie shifted in his chair, and the fierce energy Gavin had seemed to be channeling suddenly flooded from him. Burnie watched as the younger man slumped slightly, cast his eyes downward, and took a small step toward his chair.
“You know the audience misses you whenever you skip the Podcast for too long. At least show up for them.”
With that, Gavin turned on his heels and walked from the room, letting the door close quietly.
Burnie let out a puff of air and turned back to his computer, staring at the blank screen and trying to ignore the burning shame coursing through him. Disappointing Gavin was like kicking a puppy, and Burnie wished for most likely the millionth time that he hadn’t called Gavin that night.
Scrubbing at his eyes behind his glasses with one hand, Burnie grasped for his phone with the other and wondered if he could convince an intern to go and get some whiskey for him.
to: Gus Sorola
I’ll be there, don’t worry.
That night, the Podcast went better than Burnie had expected. Somehow, conversation had been dominated by Barbara, who had quickly picked up on the awkward tension radiating from Burnie and was trying to cover for it as best as she could. Burnie was so damn thankful for her and made a mental note to buy her lunch.
As soon as recording for the Post-Show stopped, Burnie was up and out of his seat, trying not to imagine the devastated look that was most likely on Gavin’s face. But Burnie couldn’t stand to be within a few feet of the Brit. If he stuck around, something would inevitably slip from his mouth and embarrass the hell out of both of them.
So maybe it was the weird, pent-up anxiety that had been building up under Burnie’s skin for weeks, or the gentle, sad look Gavin had shot his way earlier, or even the way Gavin had methodically run his hand up and down the neck of his beer bottle for a good five minutes during the Podcast, but Burnie’s brain was officially on strike. His body was making stupid decisions void of mental processing power and he could not be held responsible for his actions.
Laying on his bed, Burnie felt like he was watching himself from a third-person perspective. His hand unlocked his phone and scrolled to Gavin’s name on its own accord, and his mouth ran without conscious thought.
“’Ello? How can I help—”
“I don’t need the intro spiel Gavin,”
Burnie registered the sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line.
“Burnie, I—” Gavin’s voice sprung up several octaves, going from sultry to panicked in no time at all.
“Just, I know what this number is. I don’t care what you do in your free time, so long as it isn’t, I don’t know, killing people or some shit. But I don’t want to talk about this right now. I don’t want to talk about anything. I want to listen.”
A long beat of silence. Then, slowly—
“Alright. What do you want to hear?”
“Whatever you have.”
Burnie could hear Gavin taking a deep lungful of air as the line went silent once more. Absolutely nothing was stopping Burnie from hanging up right now—except, for some wildly unknown reason, the older man couldn’t bear the thought of doing so.
“Was it you that called three weeks ago and didn’t say anything? It makes sense, you avoiding me all the time.”
The deeper, heavier tone of Gavin’s voice sent electric sparks down Burnie’s spine. The younger had paused, and was apparently waiting for an answer. Burnie’s throat worked out the words on its own accord.
“Yes, yeah, I called.”
That seemed to be enough speaking for Gavin, who continued without being asked.
“The thing is, lots of guys call and hang up. But you stayed on the line for a while. You listened to me.”
Gavin paused, and Burnie was acutely aware of his own breathing.
“You must’ve liked what I was saying, then. Probably something about getting you off with my hands, my mouth, you turning into a puddle under me. Something about me setting your skin on fire with my fingers, letting them slowly trail down to your cock but not actually touching—not enough to get you off. Just teasing you enough to drive you absolutely mad, get you hard enough to hammer fucking nails. Something about me nipping at the base of your neck and letting my tongue slide down your chest. Something about you whining, begging for me to just get on with it, Gavin and me finally indulging you, wrapping my fingers around your dick and tugging just hard enough—was that pretty much it?”
Burnie felt his voice stick in the back of his throat. He nodded, then realized that Gavin wasn’t actually in the room with him. He hoped a strangled noise of agreement would be enough.
“So do you want me to continue where I left off?
Burnie heard another choked noise escape from his throat.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Gavin chuckled, “So you’re already hard, and I’m just now getting serious about actually getting you off. I breathe thickly into your skin, which feels like it’s on fucking fire, and I feel your pulse under my touch. You’re so turned on, you can’t think of anything else except me and my hand, my mouth.
My hand is wrapped loosely around your cock, stroking slow and even, twisting up a little when I reach the head of your dick. The tight, warm friction is driving you ever so closer to the edge, and my tongue, tracing patterns down your collarbone, is what really sets you off. You’re moaning now, long and drawn out and trying to say my name, trying to say—”
“Gavin.”
Burnie was only slightly shocked to hear his own voice, tense and small but definitely his own. Over the line, Gavin took a sharp breath, probably not expecting the older man to make any noise other than a few grunts. It didn’t seem to deter him, though, as he picked up immediately—perhaps with even more enthusiasm than before.
“And you finally manage it and I reward you by tightening my grip, pulling harder at your aching cock. My other hand slowly trails across your hip, down and around to your balls, and the extra stimulation makes you cry out even louder.”
There was a hand around Burnie’s dick. Not just the phantom feeling of Gavin’s voice, but a legitimate, real hand around Burnie’s dick. It was at that point Burnie realized it was his own hand, shoved roughly down the front of his jeans.
“I can tell you’re getting closer, getting worked up and tense. You whine when I move my hand away from you, and you buck your hips into the air, searching for just a tiny bit of friction. And then I’m between your legs, my fingers wrapped around your cock again, holding you so I can fit my mouth around the head.
“I guess you know more than the other blokes that call me that I have a horrible gag reflex, so you know I can’t deep throat you or anything. So I just keep tonguing at the slit, using my hands to cover everything that doesn’t fit in my mouth. The warm, wet slide of my mouth is a million times better than my hand alone, and your whole world narrows to just the two of us, nothing else.”
Distantly, Burnie registered that Gavin’s voice was getting breathier and breathier with every sentence. The thought that Gavin was getting himself off at the same time Burnie was set something burning in the pit of his stomach, and the electric feeling of his own hand on his dick was suddenly so much more intense.
“You’re so close now, aren’t you? I can feel the way your pulse is jumping under my tongue. You need to come, you can feel it building under your skin, my tongue dancing along the crown of your cock and my fingers teasing up to your balls, it’s so much and you’re getting closer and closer to the edge—”
“Shit, Gavin—!” Burnie cried out as his orgasm ripped through him in a crashing wave. It was too much: Gavin’s strangely articulate manner, the deep quality of his voice with his accent curling around it dangerously, the phantom sensation of Gavin actually getting him off with his mouth and hands.
Burnie blinked the white spots out of his vision, grimacing at the slick stickiness covering his hand. The line had gone silent, maybe Gavin had hung up—
Then Burnie heard the soft moans coming from the other end, and once more, Burnie’s mouth decided to go and do its own thing without permission.
“Come on Gav, come for me.”
The sharp intake of breath and short, loud moan that followed was enough to assure him that Gavin had most definitely followed instructions.
Then the line really did go quiet, and Burnie felt a bit like it was a rough morning after.
“So, um, how much do I—”
Gavin laughed, high and clear, and Burnie felt like a large weight had been lifted from his chest.
“Nothing, you dolt, just buy me lunch tomorrow. And stop avoiding me.”
Burnie chuckled, shifting on the bed, “That I can do.”
Another moment of silence washed over the two, but Burnie felt decidedly less awkward.
“Good night, Burnie. See you at work.”
“Night, Gavin.”
And with that, the line finally went dead. Burnie blinked several times and then dropped his phone on the bed, sitting up. Things needed to be thought about now. He had just gotten his rocks off while Gavin was painting a deliciously dirty picture of the two of them over the phone. For some reason, he felt empty—like Gavin should be next to him, curled into his side.
Yes, he should definitely think about this.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he stood and went to the bathroom, took a shower, and collapsed into a satisfied sleep.
“—and I’m so tight around you now, so fucking hot for you, Burnie, the only thing you can do is come harder than you ever have before in your life—”
Burnie does just that, letting out a low moan and pumping his throbbing cock as jumps under his hand, orgasm crashing over him. When his senses finally return, he gripped the phone firmly and relaxed against the pillows behind him.
“I’d reach around and pull you off quickly, you’re so good for me Gav, you’re so strung up that it barely takes anything at all before you’re coming too—”
Gavin whimpered at Burnie’s words and a few beats later, he groaned and panted harshly into the receiver.
“Jesus Christ, Burns.”
Burnie laughed and turned on his side, ignoring the cooling come on his softening dick.
“Same time tomorrow, then?” Gavin asked, and Burnie almost laughed again. The question was only slightly stupid. Burnie had called Gavin every night for the past month, every night going to bed satisfied. Honestly, he hadn’t gotten off this much since he was in college.
“Yeah Gav, same time tomorrow.”
“We still on for lunch?”
“Yeah, I’ll come over to the AH office at noon.”
“Top. Night, Burnie.”
“Goodnight, Gavin.”
And with that, Burnie hung up and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, just like he had every night for the previous month.
Maybe they should talk about it. It was, perhaps, not entirely normal for two close friends to engage in phone sex every single night for a period of at least thirty days. But there just, hadn’t been a moment where it made any sense to talk about; at least, not from Burnie’s perspective.
(He ignored the fact that he and Gavin had been spending a lot more time alone together, doing anything and everything and just happening to be in the same place as the other. A lot of time alone. To talk. About everything. But they hadn’t.)
So they went on, just, doing what they were doing. Burnie didn’t think about it. He assumed Gavin didn’t think about it. Everything was fine.
(Except for the moments when Burnie couldn’t look at Gavin without thinking about touching him for real. Running his hands over him, pressing his lips to the younger’s neck, to his lips—)
Nothing was different. Burnie was just having a lot of orgasms, he guessed Gavin was having a lot of orgasms, and it was fine. No reason whatsoever to think about anything at all.
It came to a head during—when else—the Podcast.
Burnie was relaxed into his chair, legs crossed at the ankle and laptop resting on his knees. He was grinning broadly as Barbara called Gavin out on every time the Brit had spent an ungodly sum of money on something he definitely didn’t need. Burnie knew Gavin’s terrible spending habits himself—though he had no room to talk either, if his Amazon order list was anything to go by. But he was content to let Barbara tear into Gavin, drawing squawks of protest from the younger man.
“Was there a specific reason you needed an electric Japanese hairbrush, though? That’s what I want to know,” Gus added while raising his beer to his lips.
“You never know when you might need something!” Gavin cried for the fourth time. Barbara laughed and nearly spilled her drink on herself.
“That’s not a good answer, Gavin!”
Burnie couldn’t stop smiling. The scene was everything he had ever wanted in his life—all the people he cared most about sitting around, shooting the shit while entertaining others at the same time. A bubbling warmth had settled in his chest, filling him with a deep sense of satisfaction. This was contentment, wasn’t it?
Except there was something missing. A small, nagging feeling that something was wrong and needed fixing.
Burnie ignored it.
“You need a sugar daddy or something,” Gus added, reaching for the iPad on the coffee table.
“He already has one, though.”
“What?” Gavin cried, already laughing.
“Yeah—Burnie,” Barbara supplied, eyes sparkling with mischief. Gus and the entire control room let out a roar of laughter, and Gavin yelped, turning to the blonde next to him and seeming to communicate novels through a series of facial expressions that made him resemble a fish.
Burnie forced a laugh but couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had lodged itself in the back of his throat.
“He spent how much time and money to get you over here? You can’t tell me that he wasn’t just trying to import your twink ass,” Barbara said, grin pulling at the corners of her mouth, “Plus, didn’t you have like, a giant crush on him when we were younger?”
At this, the room went silent. Burnie couldn’t breathe. He turned to face Gavin and felt confused and slightly dizzy. Was Barbara just fucking around or—?
“Hah, I mean, yeah, when we were like, seventeen?” Gavin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck absently, “And it was like, hero worship or whatever, nothing serious.”
After another moment of silence, Gus snorted.
“Alright, let’s move on, you all aren’t entertaining when you’re embarrassed and quiet.”
The conversation shifted, but Burnie wasn’t following it at all. His mind was going about a thousand miles an hour, nothing sticking around for long. It was all a befuddling mix of emotions and revelations and, shit, did Gavin really have a crush on him? He was too embarrassed for it to have been hero worship or whatever he tried to pass it off as.
Burnie wasn’t entirely sure what to think. They needed to talk.
For the time being, Burnie tried to pay attention to the others, contributing every so often to the topic at hand, but mostly keeping to himself. He couldn’t stop looking over at Gavin every so often, and, strangely, couldn’t stop thinking about pulling Gavin to him and just, holding him.
God, he needed a drink.
Much, much later that night, after going out for drinks with Gavin and Barbara—the Brit remained awkwardly stilted the entire time, obvious thinking about a million and one other things—Burnie pulled out his phone and, without even thinking, hit Gavin’s secondary contact info.
The line rang four times before Gavin answered—twice as long as it usually took. Burnie tried not to think about it.
“Hey,” he breathed into the receiver as he let himself settle against the mattress.
“Uh, hi Burnie,” Gavin replied, sounding distant and quiet. But not quiet in that deep, sexy way. Quiet in the something is blatantly wrong way.
“What’s up? You still have that crush on me?” Burnie asked with a chuckle, thinking nothing of it. Apparently, the same did not go for Gavin, as the line went silent.
“Burnie, about that…”
Burnie sat up, any hint of arousal gone. Concern shot through him like a bullet.
“What’s wrong Gavin? If you’re scared I’m gonna judge you for whatever you might have felt, what, ten years ago—”
“I still have a crush on you Burnie.”
Burnie couldn’t produce words. Part of him couldn’t actually comprehend what Gavin had just said. Gavin didn’t have a crush on him. Gavin had crushes on women, and attractive people, and people his own age. Not some old dude who he’d known since he was fifteen. If anything, Gavin should have a crush on someone like Joel—at least he was better looking.
“Burnie, I’m sorry, please, it’s just, we’ve been doing this and—”
The line went dead. Burnie distantly questioned why. He looked down at his phone and realized he had ended the call. He wasn’t sure if he had meant to do that or not.
His brain had vacated the premises, it seemed.
Without another thought, Burnie rolled over onto his side and shut his eyes tightly, shock keeping his mind pleasantly blank as sleep overcame him.
Thus began the worst week of Burnie’s life.
While he slept deeply, Burnie had unsettling dreams night after night. They never stuck with him, simply leaving behind a strange feeling of dread and shame and confusion. He took to drinking a few fingers of whiskey before bed each night in hope of actually getting a decent night’s rest, but to no avail.
During the day, Burnie kept to his office, avoiding all visitors at all costs. He couldn’t concentrate long enough on one project to get much of anything done. His time was spent violently resisting any attempt his brain had to think about the situation at hand, so there wasn’t much room to do anything else.
And then there was Gavin.
Gavin, it seemed, had gotten over his shame rather quickly, moving on to unbridled rage. He himself took to avoiding Burnie—which, admittedly, made it easier on the older man. All the same, Burnie tried hard to push aside the raw hurt that came with every glare the Brit sent his way when they passed each other in the halls.
To put it lightly, Burnie was having a horrific time.
One afternoon, after spending a solid hour staring at the rear wall of his office, exhaustion seeping into every bone in his body, Burnie closed his laptop, set it aside, and leaned back in his spot on the small couch next to his desk. He let his eyes close and, for the first time in a while, let himself think. It was something he had been repressing for long enough. Perhaps it was time to stop running from his own thoughts. Lord knows he was tired.
Burnie loved Gavin. There was no question in his mind that he loved the younger man. Gavin was caring and smart and quirky and passionate and had been his friend for so long, it was hard to remember a time when he couldn’t call Gavin a friend. Barbara had been right—Burnie had spent an ungodly sum of money on lawyers, flights, visas, and everything else involved in getting Gavin to the United States all those years ago.
Burnie let himself think about a world in which they had given up, and Gavin had never moved to Austin.
It wasn’t a fun thought.
Burnie wouldn’t be able to see Gavin’s wide, genuine smile every day. He wouldn’t be able to hear his dumbass questions and ideas that, with enough logic,actually made sense, in person. He wouldn’t be able to hear the younger man’s bubbling, squeaky laugh, or see the way the light catches in his hair, or listen to the thousands of intricacies of the latest Slow Mo Guys video Gavin was in the middle of editing. Burnie wouldn’t be able to pick through Gavin’s ideas and stories and the thought of that made Burnie’s stomach drop.
He wouldn’t be able to see Gavin every day, and that hurt him more than he thought it would.
Feeling panic rise in the back of his mind, Burnie desperately tried to think about not seeing any of his other close friends every day.
Nothing came close to Gavin. Sure, he would be sad if Geoff or Gus or Barbara or any of the others weren’t in his immediate proximity most of the time, but something about the idea of Gavin being even a few hundred miles away from him for an extended period made him queasy.
So maybe he did feel a bit more than friendly toward Gavin.
No, no maybes. Burnie definitely felt the inklings of something more there. He had pushed it aside for so long, repressed and ignored because it was just so farfetched, that he had just never realized it before. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely sure, but with time, Burnie felt certain he could grow to love Gavin entirely.
He needed to find Gavin.
Rocketing up, Burnie nearly upended his coffee table. He paused to steady it, then raced from his office out into the hallway. He had absolutely no idea where Gavin could be, as a majority of Achievement Hunter was out at a convention and filming was at a minimum. Maybe just wandering around until he found someone to ask would be fruitful—
Luck granted Burnie a break, because Gavin emerged from the kitchen just as he was walking toward it.
The Brit grimaced and pointedly turned in the opposite direction, but Burnie was on a mission, dammit, and he needed to get this dealt with before things got worse, or he chickened out entirely. Whichever came first. So Burnie grabbed Gavin by the wrist and yanked him into the empty conference room at the end of the hall.
“What the hell, get off me!” Gavin yelped, tugging violently in an effort to get away. Burnie just sped up, not loosening his grip.
After closing the conference room door, Burnie unhanded Gavin. The Brit leapt back, massaging his wrist and nearly hissing at the older man. Burnie felt a twinge of guilt—he had dragged Gavin with quite a bit of force. But this was important.
“We need to talk.”
Gavin tilted his head back and snorted loudly.
“Oh, so now you want to talk? What happened to ignoring me and hoping I would just never talk to you again?”
“Gavin, that’s not what—”
“Not what you were doing? Cut the crap, Burnie, that was exactly what you were doing. Why do you want to talk, anyway? You never want to talk. Not about me or my feelings, or about work, or about the damn weather, you just want to pretend I don’t exist. Are you really that disgusted with me?”
A hurt, twisted look covered Gavin’s face.
“And that’s funny, isn’t it? Because of what we’ve been doing for the past month. Fucking around and not talking about it. Did you think that was all fine and good behind closed doors? What kind of two-faced bastard are you even? You just kept using me for sex and we never talked about it—”
“You’re right.”
“And it’s not—wait, what?”
The torrential energy that had filled Gavin seemed to leave him like air from a popped balloon at Burnie’s words.
“You’re right. We should have talked about it.”
The look of disbelief on Gavin’s face urged Burnie forward, and he willed his throat to not seize up.
“I’ve been ignoring you because I didn’t want to acknowledge my own feelings. I’m an asshole, you know that. This is just, something I do when I can’t handle things. And I know it’s not right, it was a complete dick move and you have every right to be angry and never talk to me again. But you deserve to know that I feel the same way you do. About you. A crush, I mean.”
Gavin looked thoroughly unimpressed, and Burnie felt the need to continue, because he wouldn’t let this end badly, he couldn’t.
“So we can start over, try this thing for real. Because I like you, Gavin, differently than I like Geoff or Joel or anyone else, and you deserve someone way better than me, someone who can properly function as a human being but—”
Burnie couldn’t finish his thought because Gavin had lunged forward, wrapped his arms around his neck, and kissed him.
Wrapping his own arms around Gavin’s waist, Burnie finally felt that niggling feeling of something being off finally disappear.
“God dammit, how did you manage to break this one?”
“It fell off the bed, so not my fault.”
“It was totally your fault if you and a certain someone were having sex when it fell off the bed, you idiot.”
Gavin opened his mouth to retort but closed it, seeming to realize Gus had him beat. Barbara laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Gavin, if this one went down for the worthy cause of banging, it was worth it.”
Burnie laughed hard, only to laugh harder when Gavin sent him a betrayed look.
“Hey, if we’re going by Gus’ logic, it’s partly your fault this thing broke!”
“You’re the one who forgot to put it away before bed, asshole.”
It was still slightly strange to talk about bedroom habits on the Podcast, but it was getting easier. Burnie and Gavin had been together for six months, were accidently outed to the internet during an Achievement Hunter livestream three months in, and had generally stopped being awkward about the subject soon after. If anything, most of the audience was alright with it.
It was their relationship. No one else had a say.
The rest of the Podcast devolved into shouted arguments about the possibility that a dog could survive on the moon, and somehow, the topic of the Post-Show ended up on phone sex.
“It’s weird, isn’t it? Just like, talking about sex but not actually having it?”
Burnie choked on his beer and Gavin laughed loudly. As much as everyone and their mothers knew about their relationship, the world was yet to know of Gavin’s previous side job.
The night drew to a close and soon enough, Gavin and Burnie were home. Gavin had moved in a few weeks previous, after Burnie had that enough of Gavin’s personal belongings were in the house anyway, why not just make it official?
Gavin hadn’t complained, and Burnie’s heart had soared.
The best thing about living together was that sex could happen frequently, at whatever time of day they liked.
Burnie was especially happy about that fact as he pulled Gavin into a deep kiss, walking him toward the bed and pulling at his shirt.
“Damn, slow down,” Gavin breathed over a laugh, letting his own hands trail down Burnie’s sides and into the waistband of his jeans. Burnie growled playfully under his breath and felt his heartrate increase at the warm tease of Gavin’s fingers on his bare skin.
“Maybe I don’t want to,” Burnie muttered. He nipped down Gavin’s jaw and continued to try and pull Gavin’s shirt up. The younger man finally relented, pulling away just enough to remove the offending fabric and step out of his pants.
Burnie stared hungrily at the long expanse of tanned skin before him. Gavin was all his.
“Hey, keep up, I’m nearly naked and you’re standing there like a mong,” Gavin whinged. Burnie laughed at the Brit’s petulant tone and obliged him, dropping his clothes to the floor in a rush and tipping Gavin back onto the mattress. The smaller man fell backwards and bounced a bit.
“Who’s the mong now, huh?” Burnie taunted, boxing Gavin between his arms. Gavin chuckled at leaned up to kiss him, slipping his tongue past Burnie’s lips and moaning as Burnie did the same. The noise was delicious to Burnie’s ears.
He lowered himself, covering Gavin’s body with his own, and slowly ground his erection into Gavin’s. They both still wore their boxers, but the fabric between them didn’t keep the sensation from sending sparks up Burnie’s spine. From the way Gavin’s back arched, it was clear he felt similarly.
“Please, Burnie…”
With a grin, Burnie started pressing light kisses over Gavin’s neck, collarbone, and chest. He lavished the younger man’s nipples with his tongue, moving on after a moment. The mood didn’t call for all that much teasing—the two were tired after a long day, and both simply craved release.
“What do you want, Gav?” Burnie whispered against the younger’s skin, trailing his lips down the stretch of flat stomach before him. Gavin whimpered and gripped the sheets.
“You, filling me up, touching my cock and making me—”
“I gotcha, baby, I understand.”
Burnie gently tugged Gavin’s boxers down, the other man kicking them off the bed and Burnie removed his own while digging for the lube in the drawer of the bedside table. Burnie leaned forward and captured Gavin’s lips with his own, just because he could.
The whines and moans Gavin made as Burnie slowly opened him up were addictive. The tight, warm pressure around his fingers was driving the older man insane, as he knew how good it would be around his dick.
“Burnie, please, please, I’m ready,” Gavin gasped as Burnie’s fingers brushed against his prostate. Burnie grinned and planted a kiss on Gavin’s cheek.
“Okay, alright, I’m here.”
Wiping his hand on the sheets, Burnie reached for the lube and slicked himself before lining up with Gavin’s entrance and gently pressing forward. He slid slowly in, moving until his hips met Gavin’s. The younger man was already writhing under him, adjusted to Burnie’s length and bursting with obvious pleasure.
It was such a treat to see him like that, Burnie thought absently before pulling back and pushing back in.
Their slow pace soon grew frantic, and Gavin’s whines and moans grew louder. Burnie grunted and moaned along with him, already feeling the coiling tension of his orgasm in the pit of his stomach. Burnie reached down and tugged at Gavin’s hard cock, sending the other over the edge. Gavin clenched around him involuntarily, and Burnie followed him over.
The two breathed in unison, heartrates slowly returning to normal. Gavin curled into Burnie’s embrace after the older man pulled out.
“Hey, we should shower, you get grossed out if we don’t.”
“Let’s just lay here for a minute, I’m bloody exhausted.”
Burnie indulged him, and closed his own eyes, enjoying the warm glow of the moment. It was impossible to think that half a year ago, he would have been slipping into a troubled slumber after hanging up on Gavin’s husky voice—
A thought occurred to Burnie. And, for once in his damn life, he didn’t ignore it.
(He was getting better at communication and feeling his feelings. It was a hard process, but if anything, it was for Gavin.)
“Hey, you never told me how you got into being a phone sex operator. I feel like that’s something I should know as your boyfriend.”
Gavin was silent for a moment, and Burnie thought he might have fallen asleep when he laughed loudly. He couldn’t stop, it seemed, because Burnie was getting worried at the alarming shade of red he was turning. Burnie brushed a hand down the Brit’s back in an attempt to encourage him to breathe.
“That’s a story for another time, I think,” Gavin said after calming down.
“Hey, that’s a total fucking copout and you know it,” Burnie warned, a yawn slipping from his lips.
“Yeah, it is, but we’re both tired and you have a meeting tomorrow morning, so we can talk about it this some other time. Soon,” Gavin added, and Burnie nodded.
“Fine, soon, just don’t think I’ll let you get out of telling me.”
“Don’t worry Burnie, I won’t.”
Another moment of silence passed between them. Gavin spoke up again.
“And just to let you know, I kind of took down all the ads and stuff and stopped answering calls that weren’t from you after the second time we did it. Just, so you know.”
Burnie smiled widely, a soft, hazy feeling that was definitely more than friendship blossoming in his chest and leaving him breathless. He hadn’t actually thought about that in the past six months, but it was reassuring nonetheless.
“Thank you for letting me know that, Gavin, I appreciate it.”
With that, Gavin seemed to be ready to shower. He wiggled out of Burnie hold and jumped off the bed, landing with a thud and a crunch. Burnie sat up as Gavin swore loudly.
“What was that?”
Gavin’s arm shot up, and in his hand was his newest phone, a spider web of cracks radiating from the center.
“I might have left this in my pocket…and then stepped on it…”
Burnie laughed, freely and loudly and with as much love as his heart could muster.
“I love you so much Gavin, but you are an idiot.”
END
JUST BOUGHT THE AFTERMATH AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE HYPE
Thank you so much for your support!! I am so excited for you to get it!!!
Hey kelly! Just wanted to pop in and say hey and ask if you could watch something I made? It's linked in this post: /post/151443115283/hey-guys-check-out-this-video-i-made (I'm actively trying to build up my portfolio and give myself a better and better chance at landing an RT internship <3)
i can’t watch it right this sec but i wanted to go ahead and publish this to signal boost it! here’s the link if people wanna check it out!
Notice me senpai
no
ANSWER YOUR PHONE NERD
YOU COME ONTO MY BLOG
YOU CALL ME A NERD