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shrack · 11 years ago

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Daydream Of A Boy [7/??]

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Summary: [Famous!Michael AU] Gavin is totally obsessed with TV. Specifically, a certain show with a certain host. Who has no idea who Gavin actually is.

Author’s note: so, after 7 months of being a lazy asshole, i finally fucking wrote the next chapter. i'll try to keep on top of it this time,, ,,,, warning for possible non-con???

Word Count: 2,000+

Michael holds his head in his hand, the other wrapped loosely around a beer bottle. He had fled to a bar as soon as he could, after going home and changing his still-paint-drenched shirt. (He didn't mention it to Gavin, but he definitely blamed that stupid lab coat for not protecting his shirt and allowing paint to seep in through the neck.)

He had called Burnie to meet him there in a desperate attempt to get his mind off Gavin, as if Burnie would somehow be entertaining. Yet here they are, Michael sulking and Burnie watching him uncomfortably.

"Dude, it's fine. Maybe he just felt weird." Burnie shrugs before taking a long sip of his beer.

But really, they both know that isn’t true. Michael had watched closely as Gavin cleaned off his face, warm hands gently swiping the towel over his cheeks as though Gavin would break him if he did it any harder. He’d watched as Gavin looked down at his lips and to his cheeks (where, Michael hoped, there was not a massive blush forming). He knew he should've done something when they finally locked eyes, but he just stood there, unmoving, as Gavin turned and headed out of the room.

Michael sighs and runs his hand through his hair, lifting his head. "Yeah, sure. I'm just making a huge thing out of nothing."

"Right. A mountain out of a molehill," Burnie says with a shrug, and the conversation of Gavin is over.

They talk about Michael's next show, how he would run it, which elusive guest star he would try to acquire and entertain. And for a while, it distracts him.

He grabs his phone when it buzzes gently in his pocket, glancing at the notification.

"@GavinFree: Had a blast with our special guest today. Any guess as to who it was?"

"It's a bit pathetic that you're notified when he tweets," Burnie points out, smiling at Michael over his beer bottle.

Michael looks up and scowls at the other before sliding his phone into his pocket.

"How did you know it was him?"

"I dunno, you get this dumb look. You look like a lovesick puppy."

With a soft groan Michael rests his head back on the table, shutting his eyes. "I give up."

"Aw, come on, Mikey," Burnie teases as he sets his beer down. "Just invite him to your show again. How long is he going to be here?"

"Few days," Michael mutters, lifting his head once more when cameras start flashing around them and a crowd of paparazzi start yelling. "God fucking dammit."

He and Burnie quickly stand and disappear into the crowd on the dance floor, the latter laughing loudly whenever a girl would come up to Michael and start grinding on him. Michael tries to ignore the constant flashing of the cameras over the crowd, pretends to enjoy the horrible dances he was shoved into. This would definitely get him some good press coverage. Fuck it, why not?

His dismisses himself to the bathroom after a few bass-heavy songs, and his mind drifts back to Gavin. Why shouldn't he invite him? There was nothing wrong with it.

He decides he'll text him tomorrow when he goes to wash his face, setting his glasses atop his head and cupping the water in his hands. He can't bring himself to care when a urinal flushes and a drunken mess of a man stumbles over to the sink, instead laughing under his breath when the man nearly falls face-first into it.

"Hey," the man slurs as he pushes himself up straight, "aren't you the-- the guy who-- the host of that show?"

"Depends on which show you're talking about," Michael deadpans, putting his glasses back on. He doesn't care enough to look over when the man starts laughing hysterically.

"Oh man, you are! Can-- can I take a picture with you?"

"Nope," Michael snaps, and he turns on his heel to walk out of the bathroom.

It takes him a good ten minutes to find Burnie again, and when he does, he gets shoved into him. Literally.

Michael lets out a grunt and grabs for Burnie's shoulder, cursing loudly. "The fuck, Burnie?"

"What?" Burnie yells over the pounding music, "You want to fuck?"

"Shut the hell up." Michael shoves at Burnie's shoulder and cups a hand around his mouth to speak.

"I think I'm going to head home!"

"What? Aw, man, okay! Drive safe!"

Michael tries not to think about Gavin on his way home. He tries not to think about the way Gavin looked at him, or how Gavin's laugh was annoyingly infectious.

Clearly trying was the operative word here, not succeeding.

He pulls open the door to his apartment as his phone buzzes in his pocket, yet he doesn’t have the energy to care. He knows exactly what the notification is, and he's not in the mood for Burnie's bullshit about leaving early. He'd just bring up Gavin again and again, and Michael definitely did not want to hear it anymore.

Who is he kidding? He really fucking likes Gavin.

Ever since Michael left, Ray has been pegging Gavin with questions.

"How old is he?"

"Has he been the host for that long?"

Gavin can answer all of his stupid questions except one.

"If you like him, why don't you go for it?"

Why didn't he go for it? Gavin falls silent, fiddling with his thumbs. He could've acted on it, he had his chance. His window came and went, and who knew when it would happen again?

"Hey, man," Ray says after a few minutes, a hand reaching up to rest on Gavin's shoulder, "you'll have another opportunity."

"But what if I don't?"

Even Ray doesn't know the answer.

They start playing Halo after a few long minutes, Gavin getting increasingly frustrated with his increasing death count. He has to physically shake his head when he finds himself wondering if Michael has ever played Halo before.

"Get the guy on the left," Ray says as he shoots a soldier in the head.

Gavin turns to shoot the guy but gets blown up immediately, giving a frustrated sigh and cursing under his breath.

Ray laughs softly and proceeds to kill two more men before the round ends. Gavin rests his head back on the couch and gives a long sigh.

"Are you okay?"

"Tired, that's all."

It's not true in the least; Gavin is wide awake. He’s just guilting himself to exhaustion. If that was possible. Ray doesn't pry; he turns off the console and stands up.

"Alright. Get some sleep, man."

Gavin's phone buzzes next to him and he nearly falls over himself trying to grab it. He pointedly ignores the snide comment as he fumbles to turn it on, his heart rising in his throat when he sees the name ‘Michael’ on his screen. What the hell did he want?

Hey, I had a ton of fun shooting with you today. You want to come to my show tomorrow night? Free of charge.

He has to reread the text a few times before he can formulate a proper answer. It's not like he had any plans with Ray, or a female or anything. And why would he miss an opportunity like that? His thumbs hover over the keyboard of his phone for a while before he finally decides to type.

Sounds top. Should I dress nicely?

Gavin sets his phone aside after sending the text and goes toward the heaping pile of clothes he calls his suitcase. He makes enough noise for Ray to be concerned, and the Puerto Rican walks into the room as Gavin is pulling shirts out of his bag.

"Woah, Gavin, what's going on?"

"He invited me to his show tomorrow," he says breathlessly, pulling out a grey button down top. "I need to go."

Ray barks a laugh and shakes his head, kicking one of the stray pairs of pants back at Gavin. "You've got it bad, dude."

"Shut the hell up."

Michael’s gone through the routine a million times. Show up. Read the script. Throw out the script. Meet the guest. Make a dumb joke to the guest. Walk out on stage and act unnecessarily angry at every comment. Go home. Repeat the next day.

So why the hell was this one different?

He knows the answer; fuck, everyone on set does, too. He knows the camera crew is watching him pace around, laughing to themselves whenever he casts a nervous glance across the barren floor.

His shirt feels too restricting, his hands are trembling way too much to be healthy, and he has to shake his head a few times to get his shit together. Was this really what having a complete, head-over-heels crush on someone was like? He never hated anything more.

Michael looks up when one of the bodyguards-- Adam, he thinks-- says someone is here to see him, and he walks (or runs) over to greet him.

“Hey,” Gavin says as Michael walks up, and Michael’s glad Gavin’s equally as nervous. Or at least, it sounds like he is.

“You look great,” Michael mutters, flashing a small smile at the other. Great. Not obvious at all. He ignores the blush creeping up into his cheeks and waves off the bodyguards eyeing Gavin. “I’ll show you around.”

Michael starts walking and Gavin trails behind, the shorter of the two rambling about how he wasn't really sure what venue this was, and how he was excited for their guest (some guy named Matt, a very high authority).

It doesn't take long to realize is Gavin’s been flicking between his eyes and his lips for the entirety of their conversation. He knows that Gavin’s eyes have never been that dark, never been that dilated in the (short) time they’ve spent together. He knows that there is a permanent blush on his cheeks, and he makes himself look away, pretending to hear someone in the distance calling for him.

He has a few seconds to think on his feet and think up an excuse to take Gavin behind the main stage. They’re standing off to the side, and Michael can see the seats of the venue filled with viewers. He hears the directions that are being giving the crowd but doesn’t comprehend them, and he lets out a short sigh.

“I think the guest is hanging out back. You want to meet him?”

And it’s not true. Not in the least. He knows very well that this Matt guy is sitting on the opposite side of the stage, probably flipping through his script or browsing some social media platform. It was what most guests did.

Gavin, unaware of this, follows, and Michael almost feels bad for getting his hopes up about nothing. Michael leads him to the back and, not bothering to feign surprise when Matt wasn’t there, he turned around to look up at Gavin.

He bites his lip when Gavin says, “Wait, I don’t see him. Maybe we should go back?”

“Look, I--” Michael starts, but is cut off by the call of “one minute!” from a distant crew member. He curses and runs a hand through his hair, looking down at his feet.

“What is it, Michael?”

Michael shakes his head and looks back up, catching the other’s gaze. He breathes a laugh and smiles. “I’m an idiot.”

“Huh?”

He leans forward on his toes and cups Gavin’s stubbled jaw, pressing their lips together gently. He can feel Gavin tense and relax, and, fully prepared to be shut down, pull back and run onto stage to never talk about this again, is relieved when he feels warm hands holding his hips and Gavin actually kissing back.

Gavin breaks the kiss, saying something about Michael being called onstage that the mentioned man doesn’t exactly care about. Michael laughs when he can hear Burnie yelling for him, pecking Gavin’s lips once more before practically running away.

He doesn’t see the fist pump that Gavin gives the air when he turns the corner, nor does he notice how much more upbeat and friendly he’s being on the show. He sees Gavin grinning out of the corner of his eye a couple of times when he’s talking, and he has to force himself to not smile and be ‘genuinely angry’.

When he’s done recording and the crowd stands up to applause, Michael rushes offstage, disregarding the camera crew and the co-directors slapping him on the back, instead going over to Gavin and clearing his throat.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

#holy shit #tnd #ragehappy #ddoab #alright now to not write anything for another 7 months

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