Summary:
[Not plot accurate at all!]
A house party, that's all it takes for him to finally realise you've been avoiding him. That's all it takes for him to go on a manhunt halfway across Los Santos, demanding answers, and once this crazy bastard sets his sights on somethin' he doesn't let go.
Warnings:
Trevor Phillips is his own, Threatening behaviour, swearing, the usual GTA V things. F READER
MORE BELOW !!
It didn't take much to know that crazy fucker was downstairs. The smell of booze that'd reached the De Santa's upstairs lavatory would've never gotten there on it's own, nor would the increased cursing and swearing from below.
Sighing, you stood up, pulling up your pants as you washed your hands and did the standard hygiene, stepping out of the fancy bathroom to grab the can of booze you'd left at the door. Taking a sip, you leaned on the banister as you contemplated your decisions.
A: Go downstairs and be ignored the whole night, save for Mike - the good option.
B: Go downstairs and just leave - the even better option
Or C: Go downstairs and enjoy the party your friend so graciously hosted, only to be crashed by your ex fuck buddy? Best friend? Partner in crime? who'd probably never leave you alone, ever, once he caught sight of you. - HORRIFIC.
Sighing, you knew that option C was the only good one realistically. See, back in the days before everyone was supposedly 'dead', Trevor and you had sort of a fling-thing. Nothing ever became much of it though. You two were simply best friends who ate each others ass every once in a while. Did you eat each others asses? You can't remember, but probably. Then, during Yankton, Micheal forced you to come into that plea deal. That stupid deal. "I need someone, you need someone, he'll be fine." "He's just a violent lunatic!" All the words Micheal said, all the words he'd pleaded and begged, and yet you still refused, until he simply wore you down. But what he didn't tell you was the part where Dave Norton told you he was dead, and he got told that you and Micheal were dead.
And that's how you all ended up in his kitchen those many months ago, meeting again. But it was different. He was different, and so were you. You didn't know what it was. You couldn't talk to him, couldn't look him in the eye, nothing. And he never noticed, the man that you once called a best friend, never took a minute to realise his best friend was practically terrified to admit he was real.
Which is why you were now hovering in the kitchen corner, on your phone as you listened to the chatter of people around you, praying to whatever God was out there that he'd never spot you. But boy did he. And that shit eating grin he had was enough to kill a bird. Or several.
"Heyy~ my l-il outhouse!" He hiccuped, leaning sluggishly on the island. "Get it? Cus' you got diarrhoea that o-ne time!" He wheezed as he waved a little, where he stood. "One time." You corrected, holding the bridge of your nose. Being in his presence as of late seemed to annoy you quite a lot, and you speculated it played hand in hand with the fear that he was't real, that he'd never love you again, because why should he reciprocate-
"Hey! Hey! Outhouse!" He snapped, giggling whoozly. His fingers were in your face, well, to the left, but to him they were right in your face. "Where you livin'? I gotta drop you up sum-*Hic* Things i got outta Wade!" He suggested, as you placed down the empty drink. "None of your business, Trev." You snapped, coldly. You didn't mean to, and he could see you didn't either, both of your eyes wide currently.
"Fuck's up with you!?" He scoffed, leaning back defensively. "Don't remember you havin' this much of a temper. Even if you did I'd prob-*hic*-ly fucked it out'ya?" He slurred, and you could practically feel his short tension fuse going haywire. Sighing, you knew it would be better for everyone to leave. Grabbing your coat, you called out; "I'm going home before you wreck some shit. There's a few good reasons I barely talk to you anymore. Maybe think about it!" You coughed lowly as you walked past, you weren't dealing with tonight, nevermind dealing with a drunk him, and he just froze. He wasn't used to you being hostile, hell even when you were in a shootout you were laughing, the fuck is up with you now? He didn't even register the fact you said you weren't talking to him, as he scowled.
Stumbling over a few chairs, he eventually found Micheal out by the pool, with Franklin. "Hey kid, hop!" He snapped, motioning for Franklin to Fuck Off, with capital letters. "Hey man, chill? I was jus' leavin'!" Franklin scoffed, with an angry glare as he thanked Micheal once again for the night.
"What, T?" Micheal sighed, as he also held his nose, a trait Trevor was beginning to associate with you being pissed at him, and he did not like it one eensy, weency bit. "What the fuck have you said to her?" He said, bluntness enough to cut steel, ironically. "The fuck you talking about!?" Micheal glared back, Trevors hostileness was nothing new for him, but he knew he had to get him back inside to an enviornment where he knew there would be witness'es if he were to be murdered.
"You know damn well. She just completely avoided me, left in like t-wo seconds m-ikey! Two! You could've finished in that time!" He announced, holding up two fingers as he followed Micheal along his home, whom was cleaning up stray cans and bottles. There were a few people left, so he decided to clean up now, rather than later.
"She'd never ignore me on purpose- ever! She loves me! I know *hic* it! And the only reason I can guess of, is you spouting little lying shit about m-e!"
"T, are you fuckin' serious right now?" Micheal stopped, turning. "Yes i am, cus' if she thinks she can run off and me and i don't get to know why she's got another thing coming. Is it her period? Like literally what Mikey!? Cus it aint menopause!?" He drawled, bouncing around the place in annoyance, all while pointing a finger at him angrily.
Micheal simply sighed as he glared at Trevor. "She's been ignoring you ever since you fucking showed up here unnanounced, you stupid bastard! You're seriously only noticing now?" Micheal scoffed, standing up straight. He'd also had a lot to drink, and him interrupting Franklin was a breaking point.
"If you'd stop fuckin' around, stop drinking and smoking all that shit, you'd notice that she's practically running from you everytime you show up!" He snapped at him. "T, you're a fuckin' wreck lately. Like, even more insane than normal! You think she'd wanna stick around a fucker like you? You'd wanna get your shit together, because you scaring her off is ruining every upcoming job!" He growled, sizing up the man. And those words stung, enough to the point Trevor sobered up enough to feel enough emotion to take down his best friend.
"The fuck, did you just say?" He murmured lowly, breathing low and calculated as he stepped toward Micheal, not a good sign.
Being at home, on your couch late at night with multiple tubs of ice cream was nothing new to you. Never was, for there was a 24/7 near your apartment, and it had a bomb ass ice cream drawer. Cross legged, watching the newest fame or shame season, you almost missed the knock at the door. Sighing, you stood up. There was an old lady whom had moved into the complex a few weeks ago, and she'd lost her cat almost nightly.
"No, Mrs. Gondrick, i havent seen your- Trevor?" You raised a brow, seeing him leaning against the door, covered in bruises, blood, blisters and so on so forth. "What the fuck happened to you?" You managed out, though should you be surprised? "Move over, sweetheart, I'll be the one holding this interview." He growled, shoving you into the hallway, kicking the door closed as he leaned down to your height.
"Now, tell me. Why the fuck are you avoiding me?" His tone was venomous, careful. "I'm not ignoring you Trev-" You tried to explain, but he cut you off, holding an arm up. "Ab, ab, ab, ab! No! Don't lie to me! I fucking hate lying!" He yelled, though for him, it was almost speaking tone.
"See this!?" He pointed at his black eye. "Got it offa Mikey, fucker refused to tell me where you were hiding from me, but that's another story, so again, why are you avoiding me!?" He angrily paced, arms raving madly.
You didn't know what to say, well, you did. You just, couldn't. Until you realised fuck it. He was too drunk to remember any of this by tommorow anyway.
"Because you're still dead to me, well you're not- but you are- for fucks sake Trevor, you can't just show up out of the blue and expect me to be like oh howdy, my dead ex? My dead friend? I don't even know what we were or are, but right now i want you out!" You spoke back, unafraid. "You wanna know what we were?" He laughed. "Everything, you- you were my fuckin' everything! I couldn't rant to Brad about Micheal could I? I couldn't call him in for help when i shit myself one too many times!?" He yelled, kicking the shoes on the floor, it was clear he was still drunk as he missed two out of three times, falling against the wall.
"Well, it didn't feel like it." You lowly shot back, glaring at him. It was then he turned to face you off of the wall, slowly. "You really doubt me, huh? You really fuckin' think i'm that bad?" He sneered. You couldn't even register how fast he'd moved, kicking the couch as he ripped off his shirt, facing you. "Now, this, this is for Mikey." He growled, shoving his arm toward you, the big cross, marked with Micheals name, Rest in Piece, and the likes. It was beautiful, especially in comparison to his other tats.
"Oh you like that don't you?" He scoffed, before spinning around. Micheal, yes got his arm, but you, you adorned his back. All the way to the bottom of his waist from the top of his neck, a beautiful flower, your name, paired with your favourite weapon of choice on heists, birthday...it had everything it needed to have. Everything he'd associated with you, ever, it was there. Even the little outhouse hidden in the center of the flower, and you knew he never kept notes about anything anywhere, which meant everything here is committed to memory.
"I..Trevor." Was all you could say, your eyes glued to it as he snapped his shirt back on. "Yeah, yeah! See! So don't never say I didn't give a shit when i gave fourty seven!" He slurred, pointing at you. You couldn't say anything, years of anger, years of feeling like a traitor, all brewing inside of you. Taking a step forward, a brave step, you practically ran at him while he kept ranting and rambling, only shutting up when you'd kissed him.
Staring at you, while you kissed, eyes wide open, it took him a few moments before he slowly grabbed the back of your head, angrily kissing you back, he even dared push you on the wall as his lips got more and more aggressive.
"Starting to regret crying to Mikey over you now." He slurred as he hoisted you against the wall, legs wrapping around him. Letting out a gasp as he lifted you, all you could manage was a 'what?'. "Mikey..fucking beat the shit out of eachother-" He spoke, through bites and licks of your neck. "And then ended up crying over you..you whiny bitch." He growled, biting hard to get a reaction, God he loved your sounds.
"Trev?" You weakly asked, scared almost, as he stopped, looking up at you after a moment. "What-?" He gasped, as his jaw relaxed. "I don't want this to be like before." You slacked, looking away. "I mean like...I don't want it to be a one time thing.." you whispered as you felt his arm muscles twitch, those arms that'd be wrapped in a headlock around you before you knew it while he pounded-
"It won't." Was all he said, blunt. "Yo-what?" You said, not expecting a blunt answer, hell, it was Trevor here, everything would've been vulgar. "It won't." He repeated as I began to attempt to undo your shirt with a hand. "No you don't get it- ah fuck sake- I love you-!" I finally rambled out, tired of waiting for him as he froze.
"I know."
"What?"
"I know."
You stared at him. Was he for fucking real? "What do you mean you know?" You raised a brow. "I said I fucking know. You wouldn't have fucked me otherwise. I love you too stupid, its how i noticed that." He grumbled out, as he nibbled on the top of your breast.
He was trying to avoid saying it, it wasn't something he said lightly. Maybe he'd joke about it, but if he was serious, he'd never say it to someone he didn't trust. "Really?" Was all you could get out. "Yes. Now shut up and let me fuck you, I've fuck'n missed you." He stated, kissing you fiercely once again.
You guessed the conversation could wait till he was sobered up from regular drink, and coming down from a pussy high.
IM SORRY IF THIS IS REALLY BAD IT WAS A DRAFT, NOT PROOFREAD AND WRITTEN ON BOTH MOBILE AND LAPTOP, I JUST WANTED TO PUBLISH IT AND GET IT OUT OF THE WAY BEFORE I FORGOT!!
