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Michael applied for the job at the Magnus Institute because it paid well, and he was qualified for it. He thought it would be a pleasantly boring office job. And for the most part, it is. Michael works as an archival assistant to Ms Gertrude Robinson. Michael thinks she is just the sweetest old lady he’s ever met. And she’s so stubborn, too, always telling Michael that she doesn’t need his help. Michael likes this about her, he’s always admired people who can stick up for themselves, but she’s nearly 80! What’s Michael going to do, not be there for her?
Michael’s co-workers are nice enough, too, he supposes. Sometimes they’ll ask Michael to do things for them, so he does, and sometimes he doesn’t do it fast enough, so he has to stay hours later than everyone else. They must be so busy as well, though, and much faster workers than him, he thinks, other wise they wouldn’t be always finishing their work on time. On occasion, when Michael is really tired, he catches himself thinking that Roy or Amanda could do a little more for themselves, but he’s always careful to stub those thoughts out quickly. Michael is an assistant. He’s here to help; and happy to.
Aside from the admittedly long hours and the relative dullness of it, working in the Archives is actually quite nice. It has a sort of soft ambience to it in the evenings, when everyone has finished for the day, that makes Michael almost grateful he has more work to do. Sometimes he hears creaks and moans from what Michael forces himself to assume are the floorboards. Just because the Archives is home to some truly horrifying stories does not mean that the Institute itself is haunted. Michael hopes, anyway.
There are some other points of interest to the job. Like the goth man that always seems to be around, despite not actually being employed here, as far as Michael can tell. He had noticed him rather quickly on his first day; he’s rather hard to miss really and had promptly introduced himself.
“Hi, I’m Michael, are you an archival assistant, too?” Michael had started to say this with confidence, and by the end of it his voice had almost tapered off into a mumble under the heavy gaze of the man he had held his hand out to.
Michael felt his face grow hot as he laughed sardonically and said, “No, I’m not.”
The man had excused himself after that, not too rudely, and Michael had been left to catch his breath. Michael isn’t going to lie, when he had seen the man at first, he thought he was rather handsome. Michael doesn’t have an abundance of dating experience, and what he does have didn’t exactly yield great results, so he isn’t really sure how to go about being interested in a goth, but he’ll try his best. It isn’t until about an hour after the exchange that Michael realises that he hadn’t caught the man’s name.
Michael had found himself taking to watching the man go about his business when he wasn’t too busy. He wasn’t short, but was over half a foot shorter than Michael, and wore lots of rings and piercings and heavy looking boots and eyeliner. Michael found himself finding the dark make-up rather attractive, even if the man’s dye job left something to be desired.
Michael tried to be subtle when asking around about him, but subtlety was never his strong suit. Several of his co-workers gave him knowing looks before they gave him the information he wanted.
According to general office knowledge, the man’s name was Gerard Keay, and he had practically grown up in the Institute. His dad, Eric Delano, had worked there as an archival assistant, and his mother had worked there, too, but no-one seems able to recall what she did. His mum had left the Institute due to undisclosed reasons, and Eric Delano had died shortly after. It wasn’t long before Mary herself was dead, too. No one could tell Michael how either of them died. After that, Gerard all but lived in the Institute; and from the age of 10 onwards, Gertrude was the closest thing to a parent that Gerard Keay knew.
Michael can’t help but feel a little sad for the man upon hearing of his parents’ untimely deaths, but something tells him any pity or sympathy toward him would be entirely unwelcome.
Gerard is extremely knowledgeable about the supernatural, Michael finds. The longer he works in the Institute, the more Gerard seems to be there, dropping helpful hints to whoever might need them. On more than one occasion, Michael had been quietly lamenting on the difficulty of following up with an elusive statement giver, when Gerard had suddenly been there, giving him an address, and nothing else. The address had always yielded the person he was looking for.
“Must have moved, this address is vacant,” Michael mutters to himself while reviewing the personal information of statement giver #1082547.
“Who?” Gerard asks, there all of a sudden.
“Uhh, Maria Santos, the one with the tarantula that got loose?”
“Oh, try that big green apartment building on Leicester,” Gerard says nonchalantly, while rifling through a stack of papers on Lynn’s desk. Michael doesn’t think they would like that.
“Okay, thanks, Gerard.”
Gerard pauses and wrinkles his nose like he just smelled something really terrible, “Gerry.”
“Sorry?” Michael says.
“Call me Gerry.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry,” Michael smiles apologetically and leaves to go check on that apartment building.
Michael knows Gerry takes things from the Archives, though. It must be something to do with whatever business he has here, because the statements he takes are always about some book or other, or a man called Jurgen Leitner. More times than he can count, Michael has put a statement down on his desk, either about an evil tome or a Norwegian book collector and gone to make a cup of tea for himself or Gertrude. He would come back to his desk to find the statement gone. Currently after coming back to an empty desk, Michael will reach into his drawer for the copy he made earlier, such is the consistency of his statements disappearing.
He knows it must be Gerry taking the statements. Michael may be a bit scatter-brained, but even he knows what it means when a statement detailing an old book with a tendency to drown its readers goes missing before Gerry shows up to the Institute, wringing droplets out of his artificially darkened hair less than 3 hours later. That’ll show him, taking my statements, Michael thinks, then immediately feels bad; he could’ve gotten really hurt.
Michael decides to confront him about it. It takes a good couple of minutes for him to work up the nerve to initiate a conversation with Gerry, which actually just ends up being Michael spending several moments working himself into a knot of nerves so that when he does approach Gerry, he is very stiff and nervous.
Gerry happens to be sitting in the break room at the moment, so Michael can pretend he came in here to make some tea, and that talking to Gerry about his sticky fingers is just an after-thought.
Michael clears his throat and Gerry looks up at him.
“Michael,” Gerry says calmly.
“Gerry,” Michael says back, “A lot of my statements have been going missing from my desk, lately.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know you’ve been taking them,” Michael blurts out in a rush.
Gerry looks taken aback at being caught in his lie, like he hadn’t expected Michael to do anything about it. “Oh. Sorry… I’ll ask next time?”
“No! That’s not what I- I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, you know, those books are very dangerous.”
Gerry frowns at him, his face the picture of confusion. “Wait, why do you care?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Michael is so surprised at Gerry’s confusion that he doesn’t even blush at the implication of his reply. “I don’t know how to explain that people generally care when others are in danger. Sorry, I didn’t meant to impl-.”
Gerry laughs, and cuts Michael off, “Michael. You don’t need to apologise. It’s nice… that you care. And I’ll ask next time.”
Gerry says this then leaves the break room; Michael left rooted to the spot. Gerry thinks I’m nice. Michael waits until his face isn’t so red before going back to his desk.
*
Gerry sits on the steps outside of the Magnus Institute. He’s waiting to see Gertrude; he has to ask her something.
Gerry has a bit of a problem. For as long as he can remember, he has spent most of his free time at the Institute, and his not-free time, too. And through all those years, all the employees have been old, or dull, or assholes, or some combination of those. Now there’s this new guy. Gerry hadn’t been listening when the tall blond man had stuck out his hand toward him and introduced himself in earnest, so Gerry doesn’t remember his name. Gerry regrets this deeply, as when he had looked up he had been greeted by the sweetest dimpled, gap-toothed smile he had ever seen. He had soft grey eyes and long curly blonde hair held up in a precarious looking bun. That was fine, though, Gerry had thought, just because this guy wasn’t old, and was actually really pretty, doesn’t mean he’s anything special.
Gerry had since found the man to be a bit of a push-over. Gerry doesn’t like to use that term because he seems quite lovely, but he just does whatever anyone asks of him, and Gerry can’t help but feel a little bit angry for him. Can’t these assholes file their own damn reports? Either way, Gerry had all but written him off as a weak-willed goody-two-shoes. So when he had approached Gerry last week and practically told him to stop doing something that Gerry had thus far never been reprimanded for. Well… it was unexpectedly sexy.
Then, today, Gerry had come into the Institute, more or less minding his own business, and had been accosted by the sight of the man with his curly hair loose and tumbling down his shoulders and falling in his face. Gerry heard him explaining to Amanda that his hair tie had broken, and he didn’t have a spare. Gerry has hair ties. He didn’t offer the man one. Gerry didn’t have much to do today, so he managed to spend most of it wondering how it would feel to run his fingers through those golden curls; how the man might react if he were to tug on one.
Gerry is not in the mood to be crushing on one of Gertrude’s assistants. Speaking of, Gertrude has finally emerged from the Institute. Lost in thought, Gerry almost doesn’t notice when Gertrude walks past him on the steps. He jogs to catch up. She spares him a glance when he arrives at her side.
“Gertrude. What’s the name of your new assistant?”
“Michael Shelley. Why do you need to know?”
“No reason.” Gerry knows this sounds suspicious. He can’t bring himself to care.
Gertrude doesn’t react.
*
Michael is working late one night, finishing follow-up reports from three different co-workers who hadn’t finished them by the end of the day. They did go on a big excursion to catch up with the subject of a particularly nasty statement today, so even if they spent nearly three hours laughing and chatting in the break room, Michael can’t blame them really.
Michael is scrubbing his hands down his face, trying to keep his eyes open when he hears a particularly loud creak, followed by a distinct thump in an adjacent room. He freezes where he sits in front of his computer and listens intently. There’s another harsh thump, then silence. Michael tries to force himself to relax, to unclench his fists and keep typing, but he can’t. There’s something in the next room and he has to go see what it is.
It’s dark in the Archives, with only Michael’s desk lamp emitting a small puddle of light in the room of shadows. Michael shakes his head free of the childish fears creeping up on him. He is not scared of the dark. He might be scared of what’s in it, though. Michael makes his way to the door, turning the over-head light on when he gets there, breathing a sigh of relief when a quick survey of the room shows no lurking figures.
He makes his way down the dimly lit hall and stops to steel himself outside the door of the adjacent room. The door is closed, and Michael can hear shuffling just beyond it. His heart is pounding. His hand shakes as it closes over the door handle. He twists it and pushes it open all in one trembly motion. His eyes land on a dark figure in the middle of the room, and he shouts in alarm. It’s an embarrassing noise, and the figure turns around in surprise.
It’s Gerry.
“Oh, Christ!” Michael exclaims, slumping against the doorjamb. “It’s just you.”
“What, did you think some big bad monster was rummaging around in a storage room?” Gerry says, amused.
Michael laughs a watery giggle, suddenly aware that his eyes are swimming in tears. When did that happen?
“Woah, hey, are you alright?” Gerry says, humour dropping out of his voice like a hot potato, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, it’s okay to be scared.”
He breathes out a shuddering sigh, which sounds more like a gasp, and nearly kicks himself when a tear slides down his cheek. “I’m so s-sorry, I’ve just had s-such a long d-day. Shit, sorry!” Michael rubs hurriedly at his cheeks, hot with embarrassment.
“No, no, Michael, don’t apologise. Look, I’m really sorry I spooked you. I should have checked to see if anyone was still here. I didn’t thi- wait, why are you still here?”
Michael waves his hand dismissively, heart rate finally under control, “Oh, you know. Just finishing up some of Roy’s- I mean, some of my work.”
Gerry’s face darkens, “Did Roy give you a ton of work, again? You shouldn’t let him do that, he can do it himself.”
“It’s really no trouble…”
“Michael. You damn near had a panic attack just now over some creep lurking around in a storage room. You’re exhausted and shouldn’t be doing other people’s shit. How long have you been awake now?” Gerry is standing closer, forgetting whatever he was doing and now drifting nearer to Michael.
“Ah, well, it’s nearly 11 now, and I didn’t really sleep last night because of that whole filing mess yesterday, and I got up at about 5 that morning, so I guess I’ve been up for over 40 hours?”
“Jesus, Michael. Go home, get some sleep, please,” Gerry’s hands are hovering in the space between them, almost as if he’s about to touch Michael, maybe take his face in his hands. Michael wishes he would just do it already.
“What about my work? I need to get it finished or…” Michael trails off and bites his lip, not wanting to incriminate anyone.
“Or… what? What would happen?” Gerry narrows his eyes at him, knows he’s holding back.
“It’s just, uh, well, last time I didn’t do something for Roy he, sort of, shoved me a little, nothing major, just a bit of fun, didn’t even hurt… that much. And he broke my favourite mug, which was worse, actually, in my opinion.” Michael bites his lips together, wishing he would just shut up, waiting for Gerry to tell him how weak he is for letting someone like Roy push him around.
Gerry does look mad, but it doesn’t appear to be directed at Michael. “Is that so?” Gerry says quietly, almost to himself. He shakes his head and looks back at Michael with a serious look on his face, “Michael, you are going home, right now. Because I think you might collapse if you do any more work.”
“But-.”
“Nope! No ‘buts’! I will take care of your work for you, and you will go home and sleep. Okay?”
“Gerry,” Michael says, blushing, “do you even work here? You don’t need to do this, really, it’s fine, I’ve had way worse, I mean I went to university.”
“Michael,” Gerry says with a warning in his voice, “I will take care of it. I’ve been here longer than you.”
“Well, alright. If you insist. I’m so sorry to be such an inconvenience, I must be such a bother, but thank you, you know I really am quite knackered,” Michael realises he’s blabbing on and stops when Gerry holds his hands up.
“Stop apologising and go home.”
“Okay, thanks again, sorry,” Michael says, moving awkwardly out the door.
Gerry raises his eyebrows and puts his hands on his hips, before pointing sternly down the hall.
“Okay! Sorry, bye,” Michael squeaks before hurrying off down the hall.
*
Gerry is enjoying a nice cup of tea when he sees Roy enter the break room. Roy is a big man. He’s not quite as tall as Michael, as 6’5’’ is rather unattainable to most, but he’s at least three times his width, with a thick jaw and dark eyebrows. And now, a shiny new black eye. Roy avoids his eyes and goes about making himself a coffee.
Michael enters a few moments later, looking more well-rested than the last time Gerry had seen him. He smiles brightly at Gerry before turning to Roy. His face goes slack in shock when he sees Roy’s face.
“Oh, Roy, are you alright? How did that happen?” Michael says this and is immediately shouldered past as Roy walks quickly out of the break room, leaving his mug of coffee behind.
Gerry hides a smile behind his cup of tea, forcing it off of his face altogether when Michael looks at him with a frown.
“Do you know anything about that?”
“Nope,” Gerry says, winking slyly.
Gerry thinks Michael looks really cute scowling disapprovingly while fighting down a blush.
*
Gerry is in the institute again late at night. He knows Michael is still here, working on something or other. Gerry is rather sure that it isn’t something for Roy at least. Gerry isn’t here for Michael, though. Gerry is here to search through the Archives for any information on the Lightless Flame, and if he gets to check up on Michael, too, well, that isn’t going to hurt anybody. Gerry’s gathered a rather intimidating pile of documents when he hears a low growl from the Archives’ common area. Where Michael is.
Gerry is just poking his head into the hallway, trying to peer down it’s length to where he’d last seen Michael, when he hears a yelp of pain. If his yelp of pain sounds anything like his shout of surprise from the other night, that was for sure Michael Shelley.
He runs down the hall at full speed, not knowing what to expect when he gets to Michael but plagued by horrible visions of him dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood, or Michael just Gone, or Michael Different.
He certainly doesn’t expect to see a large-dog-sized flesh creature, a knife embedded in the top of its head, twitching feebly, with Michael standing on top of it, holding a broken lamp in one hand and his phone in the other, screen lit up with half of the emergency code typed in.
“Shit, Michael!” Gerry says, unable to think of anything else.
Michael looks worried, “Did I do it wrong?”
“Wrong? Michael you disabled a flesh monster and survived, nothing wrong about that! You can get off it, now, though.”
“What if it’s just playing dead until I get off it?” Michael says, unmoving, but putting his phone away.
“Michael it has Gertrude’s letter opener sticking out of its head, it is not going anywhere, trust me,” Gerry gestures for Michael to get off and he does. He hits the floor with a pained cry, and his left leg twists under him, not wanting to bear his weight.
“Michael, you’re bleeding!” There’s blood soaking the bottom half of his leg, his previously white sock completely wet.
“Sorry,” Michael says, limping over to a desk. Gerry rushes over to help him, allowing Michael to rest his weight against him.
“You shouldn’t be apologising, Michael, I’m surprised you’re even alive. Here, sit down, I’ll patch you up,” Gerry says, getting the man sitting on the desk before rushing out of the room for the first aid kit.
Gerry comes back to find Michael shaking, eyes distant and unfocused. “Oh, shit, Michael you’re going into shock. Fuck, here, put this on,” Gerry shrugs out of his leather jacket and gently lifts Michael’s leg, so his ankle is elevated on the back of a chair.
Gerry is starting to cut away at Michael’s pants when he mumbles, “Don’t worry about me, Gerry, I’m fine.” His teeth chatter as he says this.
“Michael you are not fine. Do you want to go to the hospital? We can tell them it was a dog bite.” Gerry inspects the wound. It isn’t as bad as Gerry had feared but the ragged punctures are still steadily oozing blood.
“No, no, I’d just be an inconvenience, it’s fine,” Michael says quietly, holding the jacket close around him.
“You have to stop thinking like that, Michael.” Gerry gets to work cleaning the wound and stitching the individual teeth marks.
“Sorry. Like what?” he asks absently, eyes drooping.
“Like you aren’t worth anything. Like- Michael, stay awake- like you don’t know how valuable you are. This place would fall apart without you, Michael, and everyone in it. You are worth so much more than you let yourself believe,” Gerry says this quietly, not wanting to upset him; he’s been through enough today.
Michael frowns, but continues staring into the middle distance. “Gerry. That’s very kind of you.”
Gerry smiles at getting a response that isn’t an apology. He finishes bandaging Michael’s leg in silence. Gerry pats his leg, avoiding the wound, and stands up. “All done.”
Michael blinks and seems to focus in a little more. “Oh. Thank you, you really didn’t need to, but, thanks.”
Gerry sighs and helps Michael stand. “I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”
“No, you’ve done enough y-.”
“Michael it is just down the road. I am walking you to the bus stop.”
Michael frowns again, looking conflicted, before nodding.
Gerry lets Michael lean on him all the way to the bus stop and is glad that Michael allowed himself to do so. They sit for about five minutes, sheltering from the rain, before Gerry speaks up.
“Can I have your phone number? Um, just so I know you get home alright,” Gerry doesn’t look at Michael, unsure how red his face might be, and holds out his phone. Gerry feels a little bad asking something of Michael right now, especially for such selfish reasons.
“Oh,” Michael blushes deeply and stutters out a quiet ‘yeah, sure’ before grabbing Gerry’s phone and entering his details. He hands it back, and Gerry reads that he’d set his contact name to Michael from Archives :) and sent a cat emoji to himself. Gerry almost laughs, as if he would forget who Michael is.
The bus arrives and Michael gets up, holding a hand out to stop Gerry from helping him. “Text me,” Gerry says, and Michael nods, smiling sheepishly, not meeting Gerry’s eyes before getting on the bus. Gerry watches him hop up the bus steps and curses himself for not insisting he help.
Gerry receives a text about an hour later, saying I have you’re jacket. Must have forgot to take it off, sorry :(
He taps back Dw abt it, get some sleep. He hopes it doesn’t come across as too curt.
*
Michael limps into work the next morning, feeling weird to work behind the same desk where he was attacked last night. He hasn’t seen Gerry around, so he hasn’t had a chance to give his jacket back. Michael had nearly started panicking when he had realised that he was still wearing it when he’d got back to his apartment. Michael nearly turned back to go back to the institute, but his aching leg stopped him. Besides, Gerry had probably gone home by then, too.
When he’d come into work this morning, he had hung the jacket over the back of his chair, intending to have it on hand when he saw Gerry next. Gertrude had walked by him and looked pointedly at the jacket before shutting herself in her office down the hall.
“Uh, Michael?” Amanda says, “Gertrude wants to see you.”
“Okay,” he says quickly, immediately getting up and making his slow limping way to her.
Michael closes the door behind him when he gets to Gertrude’s office and is met by an almost frown. Michael is instantly on edge; Gertrude’s face is always completely neutral.
“Michael, I don’t want you getting close to Gerard,” Gertrude cuts straight to the chase.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ms Robinson, did I do something to upset you?” Michael is beginning to sweat. Oh god, I’ve upset her, Michael thinks.
Gertrude doesn’t answer the question, and instead says, “Michael, stay away from Gerard.”
“I, uh, sorry, what? I- I haven’t, uh, I mean, I didn’t mean t-,” Michael is stuttering uncontrollably now, wringing his hands. What have I done?
“Gerard doesn’t need a distraction like you. You’d do well to keep your distance,” Gertrude seems to dismiss him at this, looking back down at the files on her desk.
“Oh,” Michael fights to get his breathing under control, “Did you need anything else?”
“No. Thank you, Michael.”
“Okay, well, uh, I’ll be here if you need me,” Michael says, hurrying out of the room and closing the door behind him. Michael then finds himself in the bathroom, gripping the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles turn white as bone. He can feel tears pushing insistently at the backs of his eyes as he looks at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes have never been deeper, and his hair is dull and messy. Not to mention his cheeks are filled with blotchy colour as he breathes in and out rapidly.
“She’s not mad at you, she only wants you to- to stay away from her sort-of-adopted-son, that’s normal, completely normal. She’s not mad, you’re fine, she’s not mad, and nothing’s wrong. You just need to calm. down.” Michael says to his reflection.
He forces himself into an upright position and smooths down his sweater, tucking loose strands of hair behind his ears and fighting the panic down with everything he has. Eventually, Michael looks calm, and he goes back to his desk.
*
Michael needs to do better. Gertrude is upset at him for doing something she doesn’t want him to do, so Michael needs to do better; fix the situation. He’s going to stop seeing Gerry. It’s not like they’re actually dating or anything, no matter how much he wishes they were. But it’s not like he can just stop seeing Gerry either- Gerry is always in the Institute, if Michael completely avoids Gerry he will notice. Then Gerry will think he’s rude and won’t want to talk to him. Obviously, that would be a good thing, because they wouldn’t want to interact with each other, and the problem of Michael ‘seeing’ Gerry is solved.
But the idea of Gerry not liking him nearly sends Michael spiralling again. Michael really wants Gerry to like him, more than he needs anyone else to. Gerry had said such nice things the other night, about how Michael is worth stuff. If Gerry decides that that isn’t actually true, well, Michael doesn’t know what. The idea is very upsetting, and Michael distracts himself with doing as much work as he can, so he doesn’t have to think about any of it. And if he sees Gerry, well, he hopes to just leave the room without Gerry noticing.
It is now 1 am, and no one is left in the Archives but him. He’s been alone for hours now, doing as much work as he could find, and now. Now he’s run out. He can think of nothing else to do short of going through the others’ desks to see if they have anything left unfinished. He doesn’t have their permission to do that, though. So he doesn’t. So he just sits, not quite wanting to go home, because then he will really be alone with his thoughts, and not quite wanting to stay, because this place is the source of the problem.
Caught in his indecision, Michael begins to cry again. He’s just so tired. He hasn’t slept since before that thing attacked him, and he wants nothing more than to be home and asleep, and none of this to be a problem, and why did he have to start working here, is the pay even worth it? Is it worth it to put up with all these limits and expectations? Michael doesn’t know, he just doesn’t know…
Michael doesn’t realise he’s put his head in his hands until someone clears his throat in front of him. He looks up to see Gerry, and immediately looks away, finding his eyes still swimming in tears. Gerry’s face contorts in worry.
“Michael, have you been crying? What’s wrong?” Michael shakes his head, squeaking out a small ‘no’, and refuses to meet his eyes. He can’t be talking to Gerry.
“Michael, look at me,” Gerry is suddenly in front of him, holding the arms of his chair so he can’t turn away, looking into his eyes. “What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it with you, Gerry, I can’t, I’m sorry,” Michael tries to look away, but Gerry puts a hand on his cheek, not forcibly turning him, but the surprise of the contact is enough for Michael to look at him.
“No one else is here, Michael. You can talk to me,” Gerry says. His voice is so gentle. It’s what Michael needs. It’s what Michael can’t have.
Michael lets out a loud sob, “God, I’m so pathetic!” and buries his face in his hands again.
Gerry stands up, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s about to leave. Wouldn’t that make things that much harder and easier. Then Gerry is tugging at Michael’s wrists, guiding his hands away from his face and pulling him up to his feet. Then Gerry hugs him. And wouldn’t it just be so rude if Michael shoved him away? So Michael folds himself down so he can rest his head on Gerry’s shoulder, unsure of what else to do.
“Michael, you are not pathetic. You are strong, and kind, and you’re going through some stuff, I can see that. I want to help you,” Gerry rubs circles into his back and Michael tries his best to stop crying.
“You don’t need to, Gerry, I’m fine,” his voice is embarrassingly shaky.
Gerry sighs, “Michael if you saw someone crying at their desk in the middle of the night, would you assume they’re fine?”
“…No.”
“Exactly,” Gerry pushes Michael gently back by the shoulders, “You like to help people, right?”
Michael wipes his face and nods.
“Can you help me?” Gerry asks, still holding his shoulders.
Michael blinks, surprised, and nods. “What do you need?”
“I need you to help me help you. You just need to tell me what’s going on,” Gerry says gently.
Michael sniffs, shaking his head, and rasps out, “I can’t, Gerry, I’m sorry.”
Gerry looks sad and it’s almost enough for Michael to start panicking again, when Gerry says, “Okay. Then I’m walking you home.”
“Gerry, no, you don’t have t-.”
“The only way I don’t walk you home right now is if a meteor falls from the sky and crushes me to death. You aren’t getting rid of me. Now lead the way.”
Michael sniffles out a laugh and goes to grab his coat from the back of his chair. It’s not his coat; it’s Gerry’s leather jacket. He blushes and holds it out to Gerry. He shakes his head, “You keep it.”
Michael’s red face deepens in colour as he shrugs it on, feeling like another apology will fall on deaf ears. Knowing the night couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Michael offers his arm to Gerry, and the goth takes it with a smile.
They walk to Michael’s apartment in relative silence, Michael enjoying the warmth of Gerry so close beside him, and Gerry getting increasingly out of breath as Michael leans more and more weight on him due to his leg.
“Sorry, my leg is still quite useless,” Michael explains.
Gerry shakes his head, “No apologising- you didn’t bite a chunk out of your leg.”
Michael laughs loudly at this and enjoys the responding smile on Gerry’s face. Despite the grief his leg is giving him, he’s disappointed to arrive outside his door. They stop in front of it and indulge in an awkward silence.
Michael forces the apology rising in his throat back down and says instead, “Thanks, Gerry. For helping me.”
“Any time, Michael,” Gerry says, still not leaving.
Michael heaves a big breath in, and, before he can think himself out of it, he puts a hand on Gerry’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. Michael sees a dusting of pink across Gerry’s face, but decides it must be a trick of the light.
“Goodnight,” Michael says, and leaves Gerry on his doorstep.
*
Michal gets about 3 hours sleep that night (or morning). Its about 3 hours more than he’d gotten over the previous 48 hours, so it’s a step up, but Michael is still basically dead on his feet and grumpy as all hell when he drags himself limping into work the next day (same day; later that morning).
Michael is starting to regret kissing Gerry on the cheek. He did not ask permission, which is rude, and now he’s got the feel of Gerry’s skin beneath his lips, he can’t get it out of his mind. He wants to do it again. He hates himself for feeling this way because it is in direct violation of Gertrude’s No-Gerry rule, but Michael really wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him, and touch him, and do very not-work-appropriate things to and with him.
But he can’t think about that. He should be thinking about work, these statements that he’s reading through, reading the same paragraph over and over again because he starts it with focus and then loses it a sentence in because he can’t stop thinking about…
Gerry is in front of him, and he’s said something. Now, he’s waving his hand in front of Michael’s face. Michael startles back and laughs nervously.
“Oh, hi,” He says. He needs Gerry to go away. He’s making it very hard to follow Gertrude’s rule.
“Hi, Michael. What are you up to?” Gerry smiles kindly. Michael needs him to leave.
“Uh, s-statements. Reading them,” he mumbles, flapping the paper in his hands. Michael is not thinking about the statements, he is thinking about how smooth Gerry’s skin had been.
“Who’s that one from?” Please go away.
“I, uh- um…” Michael looks blankly at the document.
“You have no idea, do you?” I can’t disappoint Gertrude.
“Gerry, I’m busy…” Disappointing Gertrude.
“Still don’t want to tell me what happened yesterday?” I can’t.
“Gerry, you’re just making it worse!” Michael half shouts. Lynn looks over in surprise.
Michael’s gut is a mess of nerves and regret as Gerry’s face shows shock and a small amount of hurt.
“Uh, I, okay.” Michael stands up from his desk, marches around it and out the door, catching Gerry’s wrist on the way and dragging him with him. Michael takes him to the storeroom where Gerry had scared him the other day. He closes the door and scrubs his hands over his face, hating that he’s about to spill his guts. He just couldn’t stand the look on Gerry’s face.
Gerry opens his mouth to say something, but Michael holds up a hand, gathering his thoughts. “Gerry I’m not supposed to talk to you anymore.”
Gerry frowns, smiling slightly like Michael might be joking, “What do you mean?”
Michael huffs a humourless laugh and throws his hands up, “Obviously, I have a big fat crush on you, Gerry. Gertrude noticed and she doesn’t want me to see you. Said I’m a distraction!”
Gerry’s mouth drops open at the admission, face stained a bright red. “Gertrude told you to stay away from me?”
“Yes,” Michael says sulkily, too tired to be embarrassed that Gerry didn’t return his feelings.
“Fuck it, date me,” Gerry says.
Michael’s brain breaks. “What?”
“Go on a date with me, Michael,” Gerry says, like it’s not the weirdest thing anyone’s ever said.
“B-b-but Gertrude… she said…” Michael just can’t get his mouth to work as fast as his brain.
“She’s not the boss of me. I’ll date who I want,” Gerry claims.
“But she’s the boss of me, Gerry. Literally, I can’t just not do what she says,” Michael is wringing his hands nervously.
“Did she say you would be fired if you dated me?”
“No, but she wouldn’t be happy, and I really don’t want to disappoint her,” Michael says, dropping onto a box beside him.
“Okay, then, don’t date me,” Gerry says, crossing his arms theatrically and looking away.
“No!” Michael says, springing back to his feet, “I mean, um, let me think about it.”
Gerry hums, trying to downplay the smile spreading across his face. Michael sits back down on his box. He can’t think of any reason to stay safe and not date him that Gerry wouldn’t immediately contradict. Truth is, he didn’t try that hard to think of one, though.
“So…” Michael starts slowly, “You are interested in me… Romantically?”
“Is it not obvious?” Gerry frowns.
Michael sputters, “No, it’s not obvious, Gerry! Why would you be interested in me?”
Gerry puts his hands either side of Michael’s face, within reach due to him sitting down, and smiles gently. “Michael, you are beautiful, and kind, and funny, and so smart, and way too helpful. I have never met anyone so good as you, Michael. And if mean old Gertrude has something to say about us, she can say it to me.”
Michael’s face flushes a furious pink, “You’re sure you like me?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“And you’re sure Gertrude won’t hate me forever?”
“Yes.”
Michael stands up and takes a deep breath. “Then fuck it,” he says, surging forward to press his lips against Gerry’s. Gerry makes a beautiful little noise of surprise and melts into the kiss, wrapping his hands in Michael’s sweater to tug him down to his height. Michael puts his hands on Gerry’s waist and pulls him as close as he dares, then Gerry presses their bodies together. A thrill shoots up his spine at feeling Gerry against him, and he lets him tilt his head and dip his tongue into his mouth. Gerry runs his hands up Michael’s chest and pushes his hands into Michael’s hair, pulling it out of its tie and throwing it away before running his fingers through the soft gold curls. He gives it a gentle tug, just to feel Michael hum into his mouth, tongue swiping insistently against Gerry’s. The slick wet heat of Gerry’s mouth is dripping warm desire low into Michael’s gut when Gerry pulls away.
Michael whines, and Gerry presses one last chaste kiss against Michael’s debauched lips before slipping out of his grasp. “Text me,” Gerry says, smirking, and waltzes off down the hallway.
He leaves Michael there, red-faced and breathless, trying to find his hair tie.
*
“Gertrude, you old cow!” Gerry says as a greeting, entering her office without knocking.
“Gerard.” She says in return, “What do you want?”
“I want you to stop interfering with my love life,” he says, taking a seat in front of her desk while she continues sifting through papers.
“I don’t know what you are referring to, Gerard.”
“Cut the bullshit, Gertie, you know who I’m talking about.”
She looks up at him briefly, “You don’t need the distraction.”
“Yes, actually, I do. My whole life is just Leitner this and Leitner that. Why can’t I have this? And he’s not a distraction; he’s a human being, with feelings that you stomped all over. I know sometimes you can’t help it because you’re so old all your humanity is just a tiny, shrivelled-up raisin, but you could at least try.”
“Michael is a grown man, if he wants to go against my wishes he can.”
“No, he can’t, Gertrude, he idolises you.”
She doesn’t respond, instead eyeing a statement disinterestedly, clearly faking it and waiting for Gerry to leave.
Gerry lowers his voice, “Michael does so much for everyone here, Gertrude, you must see that. Let him have what he wants for once, even if his taste in men is questionable.”
Gertrude huffs a small laugh at this. “Perhaps I have been a little harsh on the boy.”
Gerry heaves a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”
*
Hi, Gerry. What were you thinking for our date? Michael curses the awkward vibes of the message.
How do you feel about pizza?
I love pizza!
Can I come over?
Sure
be there in 20
“Oh, shit,” Michael says out loud, glancing around his apartment, and hurriedly shoving things in boxes and under the couch. He spends 10 minutes tidying up, then another 5 washing his face and fixing his hair in the bathroom before he hears a knock at his door.
“That was only 15,” he mutters as he doesn’t limp hurriedly to the door.
Gerry is standing on the other side; in the same spot he had the night he walked Michael home. He’s wearing an un-ripped leather jacket, a shirt that reads ‘bitch.’ in small letters, and ripped jeans. It’s no different from any other day at the Archives, and Michael feels relief; he hadn’t had time to change after work.
Michael realises he’s staring and quickly steps aside to let Gerry in. “Hi,” he says quietly.
“Hey. What do you like on your pizza?” Gerry says, tapping at his phone.
Michael relaxes as the date progresses. Their pizza arrives and is already half eaten by the time they find something to watch on Netflix. They finally land on an action comedy that neither of them are that interested in, and by a third of the way through the movie, the pizza is gone, and Gerry has slung his legs up into Michael’s lap. Michael tentatively lays his hands on Gerry’s shins and shifts to get comfortable under the weight.
It’s halfway through the movie and Michael has no idea what’s going on. He keeps glancing at Gerry, and Gerry looks back at him and winks, clearly not knowing what’s happening on the telly either. Michael finally gives up following the mindless plot and huffs. He grips Gerry’s legs and pulls so that Gerry is right beside him, practically sitting in his lap.
Gerry laughs and grabs Michael’s face, smashing their mouths together. The kiss tastes like pizza sauce, but neither of them mind that much as Michael clambers gracelessly over Gerry so he’s straddling his hips. Gerry falls back against the couch cushions and tugs Michael’s sweater off. His hands get caught in the end of the sleeves and he giggles nervously. Gerry laughs along with him and starts to kiss a line down Michael’s neck as he finally flaps the sweater off.
Michael’s breath catches in his throat when Gerry bites gently at his throat, soothing it over with his hot tongue. Michael takes Gerry’s face in his hands and guides him back up to kiss him firmly. Gerry’s mouth opens readily under the pressure, and Michael swipes his tongue into his mouth, swallowing Gerry’s moan of approval. Gerry reaches up and tugs the hair tie out of Michael’s hair, just like he had earlier, and delves his hands into the mane of blond curls that spring free. Michael hums appreciatively and runs his own hands down Gerry’s back, dropping further to grip his ass. Gerry rumbles a laugh and breaks the kiss, leaning their forehead together.
Michael giggles, giddy at the proximity of Gerry’s handsome face, and says, “I’ve made up my mind.”
“About what?” Gerry says, tucking Michael’s hair behind his ear.
“I don’t care- well, I don’t mind- if Gertrude doesn’t want us to be together.”
“That’s good, Michael. I honestly don’t know what I would do if you turned down my date proposal.”
“Oh, sure, like you would have been devastated.”
“I would have been crushed, Michael! I’ve been wanting to ask you out for months!” Gerry says, still running his hands through Michael’s hair.
“Really?” Michael says, disbelieving.
“Yes, really. You’re lovely, Michael, and I cherish every moment I’m in the same room as you.”
“Flatterer,” Michael blushes.
“Truth-sayer, you mean.”
Michael giggles and wraps his arms around Gerry’s shoulders. “I really like you Gerry Keay.”
“I really like you too, Michael Shelley,” Gerry says, moving in to kiss him, before stopping, “Oh, by the way, I talked to Gertrude; she’s okay with it.”
“WHAT, Gerry do you know how much emotional turmoil I went through to disobey her?”
“I’m sorry, I was going to tell you, but when Michael Shelley kisses me and sits in my lap and grabs my arse, my brain goes scrambled.”
“Oh, shut up,” Michael says, bringing their lips together once more.