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“You smell like shit Trevor…can’t you just bathe?”
A little chuckle fluttered up against the back of Michaels nape, strong arms gently squeezing around those pudgy hips he seemed to always cling on too “mnh…you gonna bathe me? Make sure I’m nice and clean?”
“I might if you can’t fuckin do it.”
Michaels sleepy body rolled gently out of the grip to face his brunette directly. What tufts of hair he had left were stuck up left and right, but the man himself was in a rare state of relaxation. Usually sobriety made everything about life ten times worse, but in this nice warm room with nothing but Michael to look at and listen too, it made all the horrible things usually chewing on his psyche quiet down just enough to really enjoy it.
The way the waking sun beamed in through the closest bedroom window first thing in the morning made even Trevors scarred exterior seem almost angelic. The bright light and birds chirping just outside paired strangely well with his naked body barely covered with the overpriced sheets they’d already stained. It was rare form to see him lounging in any capacity as the usual cycle of uppers constantly churning kept him going. It was akin to the feeling you get seeing those rehabilitation videos of dogs once so mangy and feral now gentle and craving their owners affection. Trevor made it impossible to come down on him too hard when he looked so picture perfect like this.
“... promise?” Even his groggy voice, despite the bite his dry throat gave it, added to the scenery.
A playful grin spread over Michaels face, propping himself up a little on his elbow to ruffle his lovers greasy head “No, you fuckin parasite. Why don’t you wash yourself huh? Why do I always gotta hop in with you like you’re some kid. Jimmy does a better job then you at cleanin himself.”
“What can I say?? I’m helpless. I need you to strip down and join me at every opportunity.” With a smile Trevor rolled over on his back, taking the teasing head rubs dealt before the Irishman finally pulled back to stretch his arms and legs out. It was that satisfying kind of stretch that makes ones legs and arms tremble with various pops from shoulders to base of the spine. A satisfied groan mixed with a yawn fluttered out of Michael, finally slumping back down to itch his bare lower back “Jesus… I don’t feel like doin shit today.”
“so doooooont mikeyyyy—”
Trevors slender body curled around his, resting his head on his lovers hairy thigh. That same playful grin was still plastered on his face, given that mischievous curl it always did. Michael was starting to think he couldn’t smile without it “Stay here with me. We can do all sorts of…stuff together.” The sentence was punctuated by an alluring wiggle up and down of his eyebrows.
“Stuff. Uh huh. Not a chance, I got meetings today. Important ones.”
With a defeated groan he slid back off Michael, letting him finally stand up “Stop whinin. Aren’t you a life coach? How the fuck are you coachin anyone with an attitude like that.” Sauntering over to the walk in closet he vanished inside “don’t you have clients today? Shouldn’t you be gettin dressed?”
“Id have no problem playin hookie… then again, I’m just overall much cooler then you.”
“Is that what they call whatever the hell is wrong with you? Cool?”
Discarded pajamas pants flying out of the closet onto the floor was a signal for Trevor to now roll his tired body onto the other side of the bed. Flat on his back with his head dangling over the edge of the mattress, he stretched his neck out juuuuust enough to catch a glimpse of Michael changing his clothes.
A great way to start the day.
He could make out his own nail tracks clawed down Michaels back from the other night, still very much fresh and pink. The almost glowing trail started halfway down his ribs and curled all the way to the edges of his shoulder blades. A little part of him hoped those snotty, stuck up vinewood actors would catch a peak of the hickies he’d left behind on the back of Michaels neck.
“Mnnhh…I guess… “
“I’m not sayin another word to you until you bathe.”
“AUGH…A DAGGER through my fuckin HEART… you MONSTER ” A balled up fist dropped directly on his chest, dramatically wrenching back and forth while his skinny frame rolled around on the bed “ YOU DON’T LOVE ME, YOU JUST WANNA…. CHANGE ME.”
“The only thing I want changed is your fuckin clothes. What are we on, day 2?”
“……day 3 actually-“
“Oh god.”
Coming out of the closet in his titular grey suit and slicked back hair, Michael examined himself in the mirror with a smile before turning to face his partner. An accusatory finger pointed at his still upside down face “…get your ass in the shower WITH a change of clothes and maybe I’ll get you some food on me this morning.”
Trevor let out a dramatic fake sob, letting his body slump off the bed to pool onto the floor in a whiney final bid to get his way. With a roll of his ocean blue eyes Michael walked right passed the dramatic display to head downstairs “I’m not listenin T! Get dressed!”
By the time Trevor had finished with his forced shower and made his way downstairs Michael was all but ready to start the day. A cigarette was dangling between his lips, a cup of black coffee in one hand and the TV remote in the other. The morning news chattered about the daily stock ticker, his face scrunched up a little with each passing company name trailing on the screen below. Trevor knew him long enough to know exactly what the face means.
“Whats the matter big guy? Bad news?”
He strode up behind the ex-catholic, hands tightly gripping his shoulders “These jackoffs GOTTA be watching me. Whenever I buy stock the shit takes a hit! Every time.” Without being prompted his thumbs rolled up against the already tensing muscles of his back, earning a soft sigh of content. T used just enough pressure to start to unstress the muscle with each push of his thumb much to the pleasure the man under him. It made his eyelids feel just a bit heavy. As much as sitting here and letting Trevor work his sickeningly talented handwork was tempting, the meeting he had in two hours beckoned him to focus. Funding was pretty important for this project and putting it off was out of the question “…well, you don’t smell like day old foot so I guess we’re ready to go.”
Trevs scabbed fingers scooped the cigarette out of Michaels to put out into the ashtray.
“Yea, whatever, I CALL where we go eat.”
“what? Why do you get to call, I’m payin.”
He stood up from the couch, switching off the oversized TV “…because if I eat at some fuckin Café that serves me a muffin full a RAISINS for 20 DOLLARS again I’ll lose my fuckin mind.” The front door swung open, both men strolling down the driveway passed Trevors very decorated truck toward Michaels sleek black car.
They’d agreed a long time ago:
The truck was for movie date nights, shopping trips, and having sex in.
Michaels car was for everything else.
“Says the guy who ordered it. You got the ‘Daily special’ at a ritzy hipster Café, what’d you expect?”
“…FOOD, Michael. I expected FOOD.”
Rolling his eyes Michael approached the drivers side door—only to have a heavily tattooed hand snatch up his wrist “na- ah,-ahhh. Today’s my day sugar, I get the car.” Softly sliding his hand back from his wrist he whisked the keys along with them, unlocking the drivers side himself “… fine. But if I see even a dent on this thing-“
“don’t woooooorry, I’m a reliable guy. Not a chip of paint will be damaged to your precious little car, so stop your whining.”
Once in the car Trevor happily sped off into the direction of the one food place that never disappointed “…oh come on T, not Burgershot. It’s 9 am.”
“Their breakfast menu has the BEST stuff on it! And the coffee is good—”
“ ‘Sugar bomb ground quaker’ isn’t really coffee Trevor, it’s fuckin garbage.”
“WHATEVER. It’s good, and I get to pick.”
With a mild mumble of defeat Michael leaned back in his seat while they peeled through the drive thru.
Actually getting their order was both a relief and a nightmare.
While it was great to finally have food to eat and “coffee” to drink, the car now wreaked of whatever grease they drenched every food item in. It was an odor Trevor must have been immune too at this point having eaten this trash so many times. Taking a chomp out of their famous “Buckshot Bagel sandwich” bits of egg and cheese fell onto Trevors lap while he wagged the car back and forth on the road “These fuckin people…I hate this city. GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY WAY.” The veins bursting from his neck would maybe deter a normal person’s appetite, but at this point Michael had seen it a thousand times. If anything would ruin his hunger, it was the rush of grease flooding his mouth at the first bite of his “Crossbolt Croissant”, making Michaels nose scrunch before taking it back out and tossing it in the leftover bag. How Trevor digested this garbage he would never know, guess it’s no wonder he shits behind dumpsters.
After throwing the last bit of his bagel at a pedestrian who crossed the road just a little too slow for Trevors liking, they finally reached the studio gates. Security knew them both well.
Michael De Santa, Solomons right hand and directing assistant.
And Trevor Philips.
The man whose presence made every insurance agency involved in their studio sweat bullets whenever he so much as sneezed on grounds.
Not wanting either man to have to wait, or run over the guard rails for the 50th time, the head guard scurried back to his post to let the car in. Just barely missing the plastic guard rail raising up for the two of them as they slid in inside.
Pulling up to the curb Michael stood up out of the car, walking around to the rolled down drivers side window
“ …don’t fuck up my car, T.”
“Don’t fuck up my car T, buhbuhbuhhh. Always such a whiner. That’s all you came around here for?”
Michaels eyes scanned the surrounding area to see who was watching.
Spare construction workers, make up artists, various side actors reciting their lines or chattering with one another. It was a scene he felt a swelling with pride seeing. He helped create this. The number of times he’d dreamt of being involved with this was almost uncountable. After a momentary reveling in the sight around him he drew in a breathe of air, sighing contently before turning his gaze to Trevor.
Another subject that once felt so impossibly far away, now closer then he ever could have imagined.
Public displays of affection weren’t something Michael usually partook in. He was still very much withdrawn when it came to his romantic relationship with Trevor. No one really knew aside from Franklin, who hardly even batted an eye at the situation. He seemed more offended he had even brought it up as some sort of announcement then anything. He could still remember the empty stare he got after saying it.
“…yea. An a bear shits in the woods. Anyways-“
Not exactly the strange glares or mocks Michaels mind had convinced him would happen.
Now though, he got to come home to Trevor.
He was still every bit a pain in the ass he was before. Still wreckless, violent, loud, and combative whenever was most convenient. His dirty, cheap wardrobe was hung up right next to his in the closet despite his pleads to just wash it nevermind just hygiene in general. Getting him to even consider not eating garbage was a task.
Still, though.
Nothing felt quite like the way he’d listen to Michael talk for hours about camera direction and line delivery. It wasn’t just mindlessly listening either, he’d ask questions and even recite things back to him at times he swore Trevor had completely phased out of listening.
Or how T would make a point to hold him every night, prepared at all hours to stop any nightmares that may be there to greet him when his eyes close.
Michael did his best to reciprocate of course. The best a man as repressed as him could.
If an impotent rage marathon was on TV, Michael could bet It’d take up the entire day. He’d go out of his way to order food for him from his favorite restaurant so they could snack and watch together, even if he himself couldn’t care less about the show.
There’d been nights where Trevor had come back from his time away doing god knows what, with various injuries and a list of brand new enemies to talk about.
They would never be a normal couple.
It was an unspoken fact between the two of them that they would never be a picturesque relationship anyone would ever aspire to have.
But they didn’t really need to be.
It worked for them. Why did anyone else matter?
Looking over his partner once more he leaned in through the car window, Michaels lips softly pressing up against Trevors in a gentle goodbye kiss.
It was the only public display of affection he would do, so long as it was hidden in a car.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a peck without Trevor giving a little bite to his bottom lip before pulling away.
“See ya at home tiger.”
A hand Michael hadn’t caught in time reached around to give a pinch to his backside, instantly standing upright before swatting his hand away “HEY—I told you not to do that. Prick-“
“Ohhhh my baddd…musta forgot.”
With a wink he whipped the car around, sending it squealing around the tiny parking lot in a wave of dust and dirt before peeling out of the studio.
Of course, striking the security bar on the way out and sending it flying.
Michael watched as the car vanished in the distance, letting out an exhaustive sigh before turning to face the crowd of workers once so busy now staring directly at him. His face got hot at their looking.
“…..the FUCK are you all LOOKIN AT!? GET TO WORK.”
Sitting in his producers chair among all the busy people, Michaels mind began to wander.
Maybe he really had gotten a better ending then he deserved.
All the lives he destroyed and people he stepped on to be here. All in the name of survival. There were always these times when their ghost would remind him of their existence.
The buzzing of a text message pulled him from this calming thoughts, opening it.
From T.
A warmth tingled in his chest at seeing the name, clearing up the demons threatening to ruin his good mood. He’s got to be getting soft in his old age, there’s no way a man like Trevor could truly be making him feel in such high spirits today.
Clicking the text he was instantly greeted with a picture of Trevors sweat pants clearly outlining his, for whatever reason, completely hard muscle.
‘Thot of u bb ;)’
Exiting out of the text as fast as nervous thumbs possibly could allow before someone might see he shoved the phone in his pocket. Taking a quick glance around he gave a loud sigh through his nose, pinching the bridge of it.
Nevermind.
This is exactly what he had coming.