Work Text:
Normally Trevor would be against doing, well what he’s currently doing. You could, if you really wanted to, call it cheating. Trevor shrugs at himself,currently sitting on some creaky bleachers surrounded by screaming bodies. Trevor would be worried about them collapsing but he’s too busy watching Michael. Who is in the middle of an arena that has been set up in a dodgy field all the way buttfuck nowhere. On the drive there Trevor had complained as much to him.
"We are going to get murdered."
"We're not getting murdered." The dismissive tone irritates him. Trevor shakes his head, his hand on the wheel tightens making his knuckles temporarily white.
"I don't understand why you had to say yes to this one. Its so sketchy out here."
"I took it because we need the money. Or did you forget we only have food for the next three days?" Michael shuffles through the bag at his feet, pulling two gloves out along with a water bottle. Opening the water to take a swig, he looks over at Trevor with a questioning glance. When Trevor shoots him a death glare, Michael chuckles going back to his gloves.
Trevor watches him put on the finger less gloves just as he has countless of times. The more he watches Michael, sitting in the passenger seat flexing his fingers as he shoves them into a glove; the more Trevor's fight disappears. He knows is not an ideal situation, It's definitely not what he'd picture when first meeting Michael.
The uproar of the crowd brings him back from his thoughts, just in time for him to see Michael's head getting slammed against the badly set up chain link fence. Bright lights surround the lopsided circle, the over exposure making all the scrapes and bruises stand out against Michael's pale skin. Trevor for the life of him couldn't look away if he wanted, even if he's currently getting his ass beat.
Michael's opponent is a big six something guy, who is using his height to his advantage. But Michael's been in way too many fights in and out of the arena, it doesn't deter him in the slightest. The red head charges full in, body slamming the other man into the fence. Michael takes advantage, he strikes the guy on his abdomen alternating his blows from hand to feet.
It goes on for a while, Michael doesn’t slow down. When the guy finally breaks loose from the attack, he gets an uppercut in. Michael's lip cuts open as it clashes against his teeth. The blow disorients him, and he can feel the blood running down his face. He swipes at his face distractedly, trying to keep himself on guard as the brunet tries to swing at him.
Michael's hair sticks to his forehead, his breathing is heavy and he's almost sure his lip needs stitches. Dancing around the ring with his opponent allows him to catch sight of Trevor, when their eyes meet the other brunet smiles slightly.
Looking at him Michael’s reminded of why he's doing this, he remembers what he's literally fighting for. His motivation, the reason he gets up every morning, and why he puts on his gloves every time he wants to throw them away. His boyfriend, his everything, his actual fucken soulmate, sitting on some old bleachers with a smirk on his face.
Michael’s goes on the offensive, aiming to hit the tall man with as much force as he can muster. If he can keep it up for a few more minutes just to give the audience what they want, all he has to do is satisfy the grumpy, fat man watching from the top and Michael can walk away with his money.
He lets the fight go on for as long as his body can stand the pain. He gets a few solid hits, where he thinks the other guy might not get up. When he does Michael sighs, but continues on regardless of his balance starting to get questionable. The dried blood on his lip brings a bitter taste to his mouth, but Michael’s never felt better.
He takes off his dirtied up shirt, it sticks to him from all the sweat and some blood that’s surprisingly not his. He looks for his soulmate, Trevor meets his eyes and cocks his head asking the same question at this point in the fight. Michael’s takes a steadying breath and nods, just enough for Trevor to catch.
Trevor watches intently as Michael jumps in place shaking his hands out. He shakes his own nerves out of his mind before starting to concentrate. He straightens his spine and waits for his body to go completely lax, when it does the feeling doesn't last. No matter how many times he does this, the force of it always leaves him breathless. His muscles protest with every inhale, the pressure on his left side must be coming from a fractured rib while his lip feels like it's on fire. Grimacing Trevor closes his eyes if only for a minute.
Gathering himself to contain in all the pain, he looks up to see Michael looking incredibly refreshed. There's a new found energy that Trevor can see all the way from where he sits, if he wasn't hurting so Trevor would laugh. Instead he watches, with the same old fascination as his boyfriend beats the living hell out of some guy who has no idea. They never do.
Michael strikes hard, fast and with a vengeance. His opponent takes all the blows not having much of a choice. Michael gives him no time to regain his bearings. Determined to finish the fight he fakes a left then, when the bait is taken he uppercuts the taller man knocking him out cold. The smirk displayed on his face says it all.
After they gather their pay with promises to contact the fat grump again, Michael walks off towards their shitty car. Dropping his ripped up gym bag at his feet, he leans against the car bumper trying to rest while he peels his gloves off. When Trevor hovers a few feet away not saying anything, Michael looks up.
"What's up with you?"
"Do you, Michael do you think there's others?" Says Trevor; gaze fixed somewhere past Michael's head, hands in his pockets and shoulders sagging.
"What, like us?"
"Yeah."
Michael's answers is cut off by the sound of feet on gravel, that’ when they notice a figure moving in their direction. It startles them both and Michael is immediately on the defensive, fury in his eyes. Ready to fight even with a broken rib and busted lip, all to protect Trevor.
"I can answer that for you." As the man steps into the light, the lads are met with a grinning older man sporting an impressive traders mustache.