Work Text:
Gavin doesn't know how he's been surviving, really, home alone in the big house that seems incredibly empty without Michael. It's been nearly three months now - the first three weeks because he was going on vacation with family in New Jersey; and the original plan was that Gavin would go with him, but then Gavin got sick and told Michael to go anyway, that it was only three weeks. The next week was to go to a convention in Atlanta and then there was a wedding he had to go to in Minnesota and then there had been a death in his family - some great uncle he had only met once, but he was asked to go to the funeral (which was in Europe) all the same - and then he had gone to another convention (and that was when Gavin's begging had started), before he had learned that aforementioned great uncle had mentioned Michael in the will so he had to fly back to Europe, and all the while Gavin was sitting at home trying to remember what it felt like to share a bed with someone.
It almost seems like Michael's taking the piss, at this point, with how long he's been gone without even a quick stop back. Of course, there's Skyping, and phone calls, and texting, and gaming, and I miss you like crazys being exchanged between the two daily, but it's getting to the point where Gavin is going to explode if he has to jerk off instead of having Michael for much longer.
And then there's the problem of Michael will look three months older than the last time I saw him in person gnawing at the back of Gavin's mind, and the he's gone through so much and I've been sitting at home eating stale cereal to consider as well.
Geoff and that lot must be getting so sick of him as well, because when he's not moping around the office, all he'll talk about it Micoo Micoo when's Micoo coming home I miss my Micoo. Even Jack, serenity by definition, grits his teeth slightly when Gavin enters the room. Well, more so than usual.
And if that isn't bad enough, Gavin still doesn't know when Michael's coming back. Coming home. At this point, Gavin doesn't think it's very far off that an apocalypse could spring up between now and then.
Michael says he can't Skype that night, and when they're in the middle of a text conversation, he abruptly cuts off. Gavin's brain has pretty much already jumped to worst case scenario. Maybe Michael's been avoiding him this whole time. Maybe there hasn't been a funeral (he knows for a fact there was a wedding, though, because he saw the pictures on Twitter and Michael was snap-chatting him during the reception), and maybe he's just been searching for distance. Gavin can't bear the thought for longer than a few seconds, so he shakes his head vigorously and unpauses Halo.
He goes to bed by eleven, with his belly full of warm instant-cookies and bundled up on Michael's side of the bed with Michael's pillow and snuggled into Michael's too-big but completely-Michael hoodie. But as warm as he is, and as cheesy as it sounds, he still feels cold.
~+~
Michael isn't used to being quiet. Especially not in his own house. His flight had landed in at just after three in the morning, and then he had called Ryan for a ride because this plan required absolutely secrecy, and after a tolerable length of time driving, Ryan had dropped him off, called him a fucker for making him drive around so early, said it was good to have Michael back, and then driven away. And now, Michael is absolutely exhausted, but also excited enough to see Gavin's face that he doesn't care.
He holds his suitcase up a foot in the air so that it doesn't clunk, i.e. alert Gavin to Michael's arrival. The bedroom door gives a subtle squeak as it opens, and then there's Gavin, lying in bed with white moonlight spilling over his side. He's facing Michael. Michael's heart stutters for a good amount of time before he thinks wait, this is right.
He sets down the suitcase with as muffled as noise as possible, and Gavin doesn't stir. He's curled up against Michael's pillow, but the blanket is thrown down around his knees, exposing a pair of white boxers. Probably because that adorable jerk-off is sleeping in a thick hoodie in Texas. Michael's thick Rage Quit hoodie, he realizes with a wonderful lurch. And then it's just a fond smile as he steps quietly across the room and settles himself into the only bed that's felt right in the past two and a half months.
Gavin stirs, of course he does, because he's always been a light sleeper. Michael's heart starts thudding more insistently, because he's waited for this moment practically since they first said goodbye and he can barely contain himself.
"W-wha...?" Gavin mumbles sleepily. Michael's heart just about explodes. He breaks into a full-out grin.
"Hey, Gavvers," he says, quiet but eager.
Gavin's eyes shoot open, and the most delighted, half-assed cry flies out of his mouth. He practically leaps up onto the Jersey boy with a yell of "Michael!" and his momentum could have thrown them out the nearby window if Michael hadn't been prepared to counteract it with just as much force.
Gavin's lips are on Michael's in a second, so inelegant and forceful that Michael swears his two front teeth now have a new slope, but it's so Gavin that he doesn't even care. He wouldn't have it any other way.
But then Gavin is hitting him, so that kind of ruins the moment. "This is why you couldn't Skype today! Why didn't you tell me you were coming home you big, mingy donut, I would have waited up for you!" he squeals, and the only way he would have heard it more clearly would be if he had been a dog.
"Ow! Hey, don't hit, Gavin. I wanted to surprise you!" Michael defends, but neither of them are mad at all. Michael pulls Gavin back into him and Gavin absolutely melts. Well, as much as knobby bones and sharp angles can melt.
"How did you get back home and when did you get here and how long have I been asleep and what the hell-"
Michael kisses Gavin again because he's tired and doesn't want to answer questions, but also because he's back. Gavin certainly doesn't resist, but Michael guesses he's trying to talk and kiss at the same time again. He holds in a snort.
"God, I love you. And I've missed you," Michael says, putting his right hand down onto Gavin's left hip and rubbing circles over the bone there with his thumb. He finds his eyes following it.
"I missed you more, dope," Gavin says, but his throat is clenched up because he's giddy. He starts shaking a finger at Michael. "You're never going anywhere else again. At least not without me. Not without your boi, Micoo. And certainly not any time soon. I sort of hope your great uncle is rotting in hell right now for keeping you so long. He's dead and you spent more time with him these past few months than you have me, Micheal Jones, he must've been a bloody lunatic. I still wish you'd told me you were coming back! I would've gone to meet you at the airport!"
Michael bites down on his bottom lip to hold in a smirk. He doesn't think Gavin will hate his great uncle in the morning, when he learns that what Michael inherited was a golden wedding band, and that Michael plans to give it to Gavin just as soon as he can keep his eyes open for more than a single second at a time.
"I'm tired," Michael announces, then punctuates it with a yawn. "Lots of stupid traveling. Can we sleep now?"
Gavin snorts. "Too much stupid traveling, dumb-dumb. Come here." He pulls Michael's head into his chest and lays down. Michael practically feels like Heaven itself. He can feel himself falling asleep, so quickly that he almost doesn't catch, after a small pause, Gavin's soft, "Micoo?"
Michael gives an appreciate hum against Gavin's throat that could also be taken to mean yes?
"I'm glad you're back home."
"Me too," Michael replies sleepily.