Work Text:
He hated this. Absolutely unequivocally hated every bit of this. Sitting in his chair, silently seething over watching Gavin with Dan. Sure they were friends, long time friends, but the way Gavin spoke to him, touched his arm as he laughed, winked "cheekily" at the other Brit... It was enough to drive a sober, calmer man insane. So Michael could only imagine the way he must look right now. To top the whole cake, it seemed as though Gavin had forgotten all about him.
"Fuck this. Fuck this entire night," Michael grumbled, knocking back his 8th, 9th or 15th beer. He had honestly stopped counting when he spotted the blond at Dan's side.
"Michael.....your rage quit is showing," Ray teased, kindheartedly.
He knew Ray was trying to calm him down, ease the tension that must be showing on his face in some way. Or, more than likely, in all the ways a face could show strain. It took everything in his will power not to murder everyone in a three mile radius as he watched Gavin flirt shamelessly with someone who was not in fact himself.
"Let's just go? We can go right?" He looked around, trying to spot the Ramsey's aka Gavin's backup ride home to no avail.
"Dude, Geoff and Griffon were out the door the second Miles requested 'Call me maybe' for the fourth time," Ray shrugged, sipping on his water.
"I can't just sit here and do nothing! He can't just do this to people. He's either with me or he's not! He can't just pick and choose based on what mood he's in today," Michael seethed, squinting abruptly as Dan's arm curled around Gavin's shoulders. He glared as the blond moved into the embrace, returning the affection.
"I've fucking had it!" His voice barely even human as he let the jealousy and anger seep into him.
Ray lifted his water to Michael's retreating form, "yolo right?" He snickered, pulling out his camera phone. Happy that, once again, the drunks were keeping it entertaining.
By the time Michael had advanced on the pair of Brits, he was a ball of fury, having observed in minute detail every touch and caress that Dan had placed on Gavin. A slide of his hand over a shoulder. A quick peck to the cheek. Brushing the hair out of the smaller man's eyes.
Michael mustered up the will to force out a cheerful, if not incredibly deranged tone as he spoke to the pair, "'Ello Grabbin'! So this is where you've been? I send you to get me a bev and you find a Dan? That's not even close to being right." He choked out a chuckle, slipping his arms around Gavin's waist.
Gavin swirled around, grinning wildly as he hears Michael's voice, "is that my Micoo? Have you come to rescue me?"
"Do you need rescuing?" He arches his brow, eying Dan narrowly.
"I'unno but Dan has been propping me up. 'Says I'm too drunk to go it alone and I told him I'll go it in whatever way I feel! But he hasn't let me go at all!" His words sloshed around in his mouth, garbled further by his accent and inebriation.
Dan took upon himself to clarify, "he's gotten himself past the point of being able to handle himself. He'll probably start tackling people the second I let him go." He tugged the blond back away from Michael gently.
Michael turned on Dan, "I know what he does when he's drunk! He's been with me for the last six months, I don't need you telling me what he's like. If anything, I could be schooling you on what he's like now." He pulled Gavin away from the brunette, letting his long, lithe limbs flail around him. "I've got him. You can go home now." He moved closer to Gavin, hand on his hip tightly.
Dan shook his head, pulling Gavin away from the red head, adding a polite, "it's quite alright Michael. You go on having fun and beving up. I can take him home, no problem. I'm staying with Geoff and Griffon too."
The second Dan's hand met the exposed skin on Gavin's hip, Michael saw red, gripping the blond tighter and yanking him fully away from the other Brit. "He. Is. MINE!" It seemed as though everything else in the room faded, tunneling into the threat of his possession of Gavin. He tucked The smaller lad behind him, keeping him out of Dan's reach.
The brunette chuckled, a few too many beers into making wise choices. In effect, poking the bear with a stick. He staggered into Michael's space, winking as he suggestively hummed out, "he was mine first."
He would need to check Ray's video evidence of this the next morning because he never would have believed his following actions to be 100% accurate. Michael swung at Dan, missing his intended target; ie. the face, in turn punching a dent into the wall behind the Brit. He proceeded to get indignant and stomp hard onto Dan's foot before dragging Gavin into a corner and roughly kissing the drunk right out of him.
"Mmm, Micoo....?"
"What Gavin?"
"We're not home yet," he said hesitantly, waiting.
"I'm aware."
"Is this how you wanted to tell the entirety of Rooster Teeth that we've been banging, then?"
"WHAT?" He spun around, facing an unmoving mob of friends and coworkers. Frozen to the spot, Michael was unsure of what to do. If he laughed it off and denied it, Gavin would be crushed. If he took it seriously, then he'd have to deal with it at work every god damn day.
But then there was always Ray. Constantly covering Team Lads' asses in a crisis.
"GG, Michael. You win the bet, next round is on me guys!"
Michael met Ray's eyes as the crowd's focus shifted from him kissing Gavin's lips clear off his face to which drink they should guzzle down their gobs next. He lifted his drink to the brown man, who merely nodded in return with his classic smile on his face. The red head slipped out of the bar, his blond in tow, "come on, Grabbin. I think it's time to show you what it means to be 'mine'.