Chapter Text
Geoff hates the way they stare at each other. It's like they're the only two people in the entire fucking world that matter. The quick little glances that always end with a flush every time Gavin gets caught, which he always tries to brush off, blame on the heat. "It's hot Geoffrey! Stop laughing!!" Like hell Geoff really believed that. Unless heat stroke for Gavin constituted wearing the most dopey fucking grin he'd ever seen in his life, he wasn't buying it. But even more than the lovesick gazes, Geoff loathed the way Ryan played along, as if it wasn't a big deal to casually flirt with the hacker. It made him sick. Fuck that, it made him ANGRY! Maybe the rest of the crew didn't notice what Ryan was up to, but Geoff sure did. Worse, he recognized it. Where Gavin could barely flirt himself out of a paper bag, Ryan was calculating. Every so called so 'accidental' brush of their hips or hands was orchestrated perfectly, always catching the brit off guard. Though it was never so much that it'd make him uncomfortable, forcing Gavin to retreat beneath his falsely cheerful veneer of smiles and stupid squawks. A pat of the shoulder that lingered just a few seconds too long. The stroke of Ryan's hand completely casual down Gavin's arm, or a gentle ruffle of his bird's nest hair that always made him croon and purr. Dammit, that was Geoff's thing! He was the only one supposed to make Gavin respond like that, all cooing and seeking out affection with the neediness of a spoiled kitten. But Ryan was screwing it all up. Lovely little fucking Ryan. The goddamn VAGABOND. Dammit.
Taking an angry swig of whiskey, Geoff glared at the former gun for hire across the living room, who'd taken up his usual post of leaning over Gavin's shoulder while he watched him work, appearing for all the world completely innocent. Or as innocent as a hardened criminal could be anyway. Geoff saw through the mask though. He always had. It was why he'd hired the notorious Vagabond in the first place, and why he was now such an integral part of the crew Geoff had built from the ground up. He saw through Ryan's masks, all the face-paint and death's leering skull. What most never realized was that the face underneath the mask was far more terrifying. One minute Ryan could be the picture of charm, fooling everybody with his charisma and husky voice. The next? He morphed into something vicious, a wild animal off its leash, delighting in the chaos of gunfire and bloodshed as it flooded the streets with its caustic stench. Geoff knew this, and looked for any sign of that darkness whenever the mercenary put his arm around Gavin, or leaned down to murmur something with that deep, rich voice of his right into the eager brit's ear. Just like he was doing now.
Geoff gripped his shot glass tighter and tighter, watching the two while some twisted, seething part of him wished the glass was Ryan's neck. The sight of them made him want to snarl, shout, batter Ryan over the head with one of his own damn guns. But the worst fucking part of all this? Geoff looked at the guy, and instead of madness he saw something far more chilling in those glacial blue eyes. It was lust, primal and all consuming. He knew that look well. It was the same one Geoff hid from Gavin every day, doing his damndest to make sure Gavin never guessed at the thoughts running through his head. It was too risky, too dangerous. No one could know about these messed up jumble of feelings he had.
Ryan didn't bother to hide his. Fuck, he didn't care at all! Oh sure, to everyone else he played subtle, yet to Geoff he might as well have been screaming his intentions from the tallest rooftop of Los Santos. Every inch of his body radiated sexual dominance, his idle touches to Gavin's hair or the nape of his neck iron brands of possession to ward off any usurpers. And Gavin lapped it up, basking in the new found affection that Ryan was all too happy to deliver. Goddammit, didn't Gavin see what was going on? The fucking psychopath was manipulating everything! He was making himself a permanent fixture in the brit's life while Geoff was left watching from the sidelines, stewing in his own fear and jealousy.
"Mingy asshole," Geoff muttered, refilling his shot glass. The whiskey accidentally spilled over the top, soaking his fingers and dripping onto the couch cushions. He didn't care. Geoff knocked back the drink and ignored the trembling of his hand as Ryan's gaze lifted off Gavin for a moment and met his. Ryan was the Vagabond; mercy wasn't his M.O. But this was especially messed up. There was no way he couldn't know how Geoff felt for the little twink. Ryan was crafty, a borderline sociopath. He knew, and still he smirked like a devil while practically nuzzling the side of Gavin's neck, one of those strong hands slipping around its girth to give a little squeeze. It would be so fucking easy for him to snap it. Gavin was a twig, little more than fragile bones and tan skin. One wrong move, one single flick of Ryan's wrist--
"You alright there Geoff? You're looking a little flustered." The mercenary's lips spread in a cool grin, his gaze equally frosted and weighing like a ton of bricks on Geoff's chest. He released his hold on Gavin and recoiled with all the sinewy grace of a hunter, the muscles in his forearms rippling beneath his thin t-shirt. Geoff glared, feeling his own hint of pudge all the more. Maybe he was the most feared crime boss in all of Los Santos, but he couldn't upkeep his reputation without his crew. He was getting soft in his age, a lifetime of drinking and chaos catching up to him slowly but surely. Not Ryan. He was in his prime, an alpha poised to strike. His reputation was on par with Geoff's, if not more so. And like Geoff, Ryan understood how to use it. But there was one critical difference between them.
"Right as dicks dude. Just nauseous from watching you two practically suck each other's cocks. Get a room already!" Geoff ignored how Gavin squawked and turned to face him, and Ryan's responding chuckle. He sank neck deep into his stupor of high end liquor and bitter thoughts and poured more whiskey into his glass. Because like it or not, he didn't trust himself not to go for the nearest gun and shoot Ryan right in his smug fucking face. And Geoff couldn't do that. It'd hurt Gavin. Because if there was one thing he trusted himself not to do, it was that. But Ryan? Geoff trusted him with their lives, sure. Gavin's included. The brit's heart was an entirely different matter. There just wasn't jack shit he could do about it. Geoff scowled, alcohol biting at the softness of his tongue.
Jealousy really sucks dicks.