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“Psst. Micheal! Michael! Are you awake?” Gavin’s whispered comment cuts through the silence of the bedroom.
“...”
“Michael!” Gavin’s slightly louder whispered comment cuts through the silence of the bedroom slightly more efficiently.
“I am now asshole.” Michael’s voice isn’t quite a whisper, but it’s not normal speaking volume either. “What the fuck do you want?”
Gavin’s head peers down from the top bunk. His mohawk, normally contained through what Michael is sure is enough hair product to sustain five teenage girls for a month (Gavin protests this, he barely uses anything {Michael knows this, it’s just too easy to tease Gavin about it}), is actually acting as though the laws of physic do apply to it and flopping down in front of Gavin’s face. He half-heartedly tries to swipe it out of the way, but gives up because he’s at risk of falling out of his bunk completely.
“Do you ever wonder what would happen if your legs didn’t know they were legs?” His voice is excitable, which makes Michael slightly more likely to forgive him for getting woken up for such an idiotic question. Slightly.
“What the fuck do you mean ‘if my legs didn’t know they were legs?’ Legs don’t know shit. They’re fucking legs, Gavin, not brains. Jesus.” Michael can’t believe it. He knew Gavin was flighty, but this was insane. And yes, they’d been between ports for weeks now, and everyone was getting a little stir-crazy (Jack and Ryan are working together on some sort of sculpture, there’s a lot of spikes and moving parts, no one dares say anything). But this? No.
“But what if-” Gavin tries to gesture with his hands, but ends up grabbing the bedrail to avoid falling from his bunk.
“No. Shut the fuck up. I’m not hearing this. Go the fuck to sleep.”
“But-”
“I said no.” Michael grabs at Gavin, but misjudges and ends up pulling Gavin out of his bunk completely, onto Michael.
“I fucking hate both of you.” Ray’s voice, still muffled by sleep cuts through the moment. “Go the fuck to sleep. Both of you.”
When neither Gavin or Michael makes a move, Ray rolls out of his bunk and grabs up one of his potted roses. “I will throw this at you. It will hurt. It is likely the pot will break and cut you. Then dirt will get in your wounds and they’ll probably get infected. So go the fuck to bed.”
“You’d really throw your roses at us? I thought roses were your life.” Gavin scrambles into a sitting position. On Michael’s chest.
“Yeah, don’t you name them? Isn’t that one called Peter or something?” Michael’s voice is muffled by the weight of Gavin.
“... It’s Percival.” Ray gingerly sets the rose back down. Then, with the speed he’s slightly infamous for, grabs Gavin’s forearm and pulls him off of Michael, just a little bit too close, forcing him to release him somewhat hurriedly once he realises how close he is to Gavin. He then points to Gavin’s bunk. “Go to bed.”
“Fine,” Gavin grumbles.
“And for the record Gavin?” Ray asks as Gavin climbs back into his bunk. “That’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.”