Chapter Text
“It’s Play Pals! Playin’ with pals, Michael is cool and Gavin is dumb!” Michael sang into the mic, tilting to the left to grin at his companion. “Wanna tell ‘em what we’re playin’ today Gavvers?” Michael said, and Gavin smiled widely at him. “Today we’re playing Bro Force, boi. We should call it ‘Boi-force’, Micool!” Gavin cooed, a grin spreading across his face as he twirled in his chair to fully face his best friend. “Gavin, that’s fuckin’ retarded. You’re such a moron” retorted the redhead as he stared at the screen, scrolling through the menu of the game to find a game-mode that would be good for recording and would keep the fans entertained. He missed the way that Gavin’s face clouded over, his megawatt smile dimming down to a dark glower for the briefest of moments before it returned at a lesser intensity than before. I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Michael Gavin thought, chewing on his lip lightly as Michael finished sorting the settings and started up the level.
After about half an hour of recording, Michael decided that enough was enough after Gavin had killed them both and failed the level for the umpteenth time. “God DAMMIT Gavin!! WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING STUPID YOU DUMB PIECE OF SHIT?!” Michael yelled, tearing his headphones off his head and throwing them on the desk in his anger. He turned to face Gavin, his brows knotted together in frustration and his upper lip curling as his mouth opened, preparing to unleash another tirade of loud abuse in Gavin’s direction. Michael was greeted with an empty chair, and as his head moved to locate his friend there was a loud click as the door locked. Staring at Gavin, who was stood by the door, Michael’s mouth hung open at the expression Gavin wore. Gone was his cheerful, happy-go-lucky companion who took all the verbal abuse with good humour. Instead, Gavin was glaring at him. “Micool,” Gavin said in a low voice “Micool, I wish you wouldn’t call me that. Dumb, stupid, retarded, MORON!” Michael flinched as Gavin yelled the last word at him, that oh so familiar face contorting and twisting with rage. “Gav, I’m sorry man. You should have said it bothered you… I didn’t mean to make you feel shitty…” Gavin could hear the pleading tone in Michael’s voice, and it irked him. “I’m sick of it, Michael. Sick. Of. It” Gavin said, and with each syllable he stepped closer to his shorter, redheaded friend. Michael suddenly felt a vice-like grip on his upper arm and, without thinking, he shouted “Get the fuck off me, dumbass!” The change in Gavin’s expression from pure unbridled fury to perfect calm was disturbingly swift. It was the last thing Michael saw before Gavin’s fist collided with the side of his head and everything went black.
Gavin released his grip on Michael and his body slumped to the floor, a bruise already starting to bloom on his left temple. Turning to face the wall of fan art, Gavin selected the golf club that they’d been given by Rockstar as part of the GTA V loot they’d been sent. He weighed it carefully in his hands as a groan came from the floor behind him, Michael had regained consciousness. “Oh Micool,” Gavin said, his voice barely more than a whisper “I think I need to teach you a little lesson in manners.” Michael, in a daze, tried to crawl away from Gavin and get towards the door. If he could get it unlocked, he could call for help – he was sure Lindsay was still here. A blinding flash of pain halted him as his right knee was destroyed with a sickening crunch, and he screamed long and loud. Gavin raised the golf club again and brought it down hard on Michael’s torso, cracking his ribs with the first swing. Coughing hard, Michael rolled onto his back as he fought to regain his breath from the sharp pain radiating from his side and the throb in his knee. Gavin stepped closer to Michael and leant down, getting close to his face and leaning on the club for support. “Have you learned yet, my little Micool?” he asked, tilting his head to one side in a fashion that briefly reminded Michael of an inquisitive puppy. He blinked slowly to clear that image from his head and glared up at the tall British lad, before using all the strength he had left to spit in his face. Blood and saliva splattered on Gavin and he clenched his teeth, jaw working in frustration. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” Gavin muttered, and he straightened up. Taking the club in both hands, he began to take powerful and vicious swings at Michael’s body – punctuating each hit with a little shout. “IDIOT!” WHACK “MORON!” WHACK “STUPID!” WHACK “DUMBASS!” WHACK. WHACK. Gavin didn’t stop hitting until he became aware that where Michael had once been, there was now a bloody, wet and broken mess on the floor. Panting, he looked up at the pane of glass that separated the Achievement Hunter office from the Team Thugs office. His reflection stared back at him dotted with flecks of Michael’s blood, and as he reached to wipe some of it off of his cheek he noticed Lindsay’s jacket hanging off the back of her chair. Hmm, Gavin thought, Lindsay will probably be wondering if Michael’s finished. Better send her a text… Wandering over to the broken body of the redheaded gamer, Gavin unceremoniously shoved his hand in the pockets of his jeans until he pulled out his phone. Wiping the blood off the screen, he sent a quick message to Lindsay:
→ Me: Done recording. Gavver’s has gone home so get your ass back in the office so we can go get food.
Her reply was almost immediate:
← Lindsay: Love you too, dumbass. Be there in 5 <3
Gavin frowned at the words on the phone as he slid it back into Michael’s jeans pocket. Manhandling his broken and bloodied corpse back into his chair, Gavin sat on the couch and waited for Lindsay to walk in. Dumbass indeed… He thought. We’ll see who’s a dumbass now.