Work Text:
The idea had occurred to you rather suddenly. You’d been scrolling through Facebook, of all things, sighing through your nose at the amount of family drama on your feed in between memes, vacation photos, and ads for various products you neither needed nor wanted, when your mind drifted to your part-time housemate, the infamous Michael Myers.
Given that the place he called ‘home’ prior to crashing on your couch (and, more recently, in your bed) had been a sanitarium, where he’d been since the late 1970s, it’s extremely unlikely that he’s familiar with many of the technological advancements the outside world has to offer. Just the idea of Michael using Skype, Instagram, or - god forbid - Snapchat throws you entirely for a loop; you’re not sure you’ve ever even seen him use a phone that wasn’t a landline. You’re pretty sure your mother is more tech savvy than Michael is, and she once accidentally put her phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode for a week and a half without any idea that such a thing even existed.
That, you decide, just won’t do.
You gather up a few necessary supplies - among which are your laptop and phone, both of which Michael is only vaguely familiar with, in the sense that he knows they exist - and set out in search of your elusive roommate. Hopefully, he hasn’t left the house. You left him in the living room watching TV earlier that morning, but there’s no telling what could have happened between then and now.
“Michael?” You call, poking your head into the living room. “Mi-- Oh, good, you're still here.”
Michael doesn't even turn his head to acknowledge you. Assuming he really hasn’t moved, he's been sitting on your couch, utterly absorbed in Food Network shows for hours -- you aren't even quite sure how long it's been, but you know not to underestimate his ability to sit still and stare at things. It’s pretty much his thing, after all.
You say his name a couple more times, but still receive no indication that he even heard you. You start to think he may have fallen asleep, but then, as you approach, he cocks his head ever so slightly in your direction, gaze still locked on The Pioneer Woman’s cutting board.
“Can I sit?”
He sits there completely still, head still tilted, almost as though he's deciding whether or not moving over is worth it, but after a moment he slides smoothly toward the other end of the couch to make room for you. Nodding gratefully, you settle into the gap he left, placing your laptop, speaker, and phone on the low coffee table in front of you
“So,” you begin, rubbing your hands together in anticipation, “I wanna show you something. There's a bit of a caveat though.” You give him a very serious look, placing a hand gingerly on the remote, which is sitting on the centre of the coffee table. “We're gonna have to turn the TV off. That all right?”
Another, lengthier pause, and then a decidedly begrudging nod.
(This is quite a compliment, coming from him; he really likes Food Network.)
You grin at him, unable to contain your enthusiasm.
“Awesome! Okay, so,” you switch the TV off and set the remote aside. Then, you open your laptop and check to make sure your speaker is on and connected via Bluetooth before relocating it to your lap. As you bring up Spotify, you continue to speak. “I don't know what kind of music you like, but I chose some eighties rock that I listen to. Here, check this out.” Another click, and music starts to play through the speaker.
Michael actually flinches back in surprise. He looks between your laptop and the speaker sitting in your lap, befuddlement rolling off of him in waves. The image of this menacing, six-foot-eight giant looking ready to bolt because of a six-inch piece of plastic is so funny you have to force yourself not to laugh, knowing that he wouldn’t take it well.
You pick up the little speaker and hold it out to him. “It’s called a Bluetooth speaker. You use the Bluetooth setting on your computer or phone or whatever you’re playing music from to connect to it, and then it functions just like any other speaker, except without wires. Cool, isn’t it?” You hold it out a little more, smiling encouragingly.
He stares at the device in your hand for a moment before reaching out haltingly and taking it. He tilts it this way and that, running his hands over the smooth sides. The music continues to blare out from the top, and he lifts it a bit closer to his ear in order to hear it better.
After a moment, he gives the speaker back, nodding shortly in what you think is approval. You smile broadly, feeling pleased. This feeling is quickly overtaken by mischievousness, though; you do plan to subject Michael to more of the wonders of present day technology, after all.
You pick up your phone and unlock it, thumbing through your apps.
“All right, I’ll just leave that playing. This next thing is a game called ‘Candy Crush’…”