A Compromising Position
Title: A Compromising Position
Author:
blurhawaii
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Michael/Gob
Summary: Lindsay catches them in a compromising position.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrested Development.
A/N: It’s a bit rushed. I forgot all about it because I was caught up in the Harry Potter craze. I had a completely different ending idea involving chocolate sauce but couldn’t get it to work properly.
A Compromising Position
Magic never was one of Gob’s strong suits; nevertheless, he stuck with it. At least this way he could prove to everyone, though mainly Michael, he doesn’t just give up at the first hurdle and that he is not as useless as others have come to believe. He could be exceptionally talented, for all he knew, at what he does (highly unlikely) and if not (highly likely) he would practise until he could practise no more. All this sounded quite admirable in Gob’s head. Surely, Michael would appreciate his efforts, maybe not the magic part but the determination definitely.
The only complication Gob was able to find was, in order to practise he needed equipment. To buy equipment he acquired money and money is what he didn’t have. Asking Michael for the funds seemed to defeat his objective so what was he to do.
Ignoring his own train of thought of the last thirty minutes, Gob sank deeper in the cosy cushions of the model home’s couch. Drowning himself in alcohol seemed like the best thing to do at this moment in time, so that’s what he was doing. His feet were resting on the coffee table supporting most of his body as he had slipped lower than he had meant to. He lay, basically, horizontal apart from his head that which tilted forward against the back of the couch. This particular position made drinking his glass of, whatever was closest to the front of the liquor cabinet quite difficult to do, because before the glass could reach his lips it would spill. Gob coughed and spluttered after another failed attempt at drinking at the same moment a figure stepped into the room. This position also made looking to the side a painful and strenuous thing to do too, but the blurred figure soon became clearer when it moved around the room to stand opposite Gob.
“You know, that position doesn’t look too comfortable Gob, and drinking like that has got to be dangerous…” sighed Michael as he took a step closer to the coffee table and noticed the open bottle of scotch. “ Especially scotch. Gob, it’s one in the afternoon what are you doing drinking scotch?” Not wanting Michael to think he was just sitting there being useless he tried to think of a reason.
“I’m thinking” While collecting another glass Michael chuckled quietly.
“Thinking? About what?” Gob choked when he was trying for another sip of scotch while Michael dropped into the seat next to him. Gob made an effort to answer though his voice sounded raspy and forced, even his eyes were starting to water slightly.
“Oh you know this and that.” Michael didn’t know. That was why he asked.
They both sat in silence, apart from the occasional spluttering coming from Gob, for quite a while. Michael sipped his scotch while glancing over at Gob every now and again to check he wasn’t seriously choking. He soon felt tired of the noise and wanted it to stop as soon as possible.
“Are you going to move from that position any time soon, Gob, because just looking at you is making me uncomfortable.”
“You know what; I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” A dry chuckle escaped Michael’s throat before he could stop it although Gob seemed to bathe in the feeling of causing his brother to laugh and snuggled deeper in the, already, sinking cushions. With a sigh, Michael lent forward and placed his drink on the table; the glass clinking softly as it made contact with the wood. Michael felt Gob’s glazed eyes follow him as he stepped around the table to face him. A callused, strong looking hand moved towards Gob and he couldn’t help but flinch.
“Why are you flinching?” Asked Michael with a hint of annoyance shining through his tone, even though he hadn’t meant it to. Gob blinked blankly.
“I thought you were going to hit me.”
Not caring that he was sure a lot more than just annoyance would be shown through the question he asked anyway.
“Why would I hit you?” Gob actually seemed to contemplate his answer before stating as blankly as he had blinked, “I don’t know.” Michael had forgotten, for a second, why he was standing until a sweaty hand clamped over his. The warm hand tugged hard causing him to loose his balance. What happened next was highly unlikely and the two people involved could do nothing but let it happen as the events unfolded.
Michael landed heavily on Gob’s legs, which were propped up on the coffee table. The weight made his feet crash to the floor pulling the table with them. The table legs, as if they had hinges connecting it to the floor, tipped, the open bottle of scotch and the mostly full glass soared through the air.
After his feet hit the floor, Gob slipped, then his knees quickly followed his feet and he sat straight up while kneeling on the floor. His hand was still clutching Michael’s to make sure he didn’t fall and hurt himself. His other hand grabbed wildly for Michael’s waist to stop him tumbling back onto the corner of the table, while Michael latched onto Gob’s shoulder for the same reason. Michael was straddling Gob’s legs while they both sat in a sort of awkward sit-down waltzing position. Before they could take in the weirdness of the situation the open bottle landed with a painful thud against Michael’s head then emptied all over him. The glass landed with a much quieter thud on the couch before splashing over Gob’s face and neck, soaking into the front of his shirt also.
Silence and stillness followed, neither of them dared to move in fear of setting off another chain reaction. Scotch soaked Michael, his damp hair hung flat against his forehead. It dribbled down his face in a seemingly endless stream. Glistening along his jaw line and throat before disappearing beneath his collar. Gob was mesmerised by it, he followed each drop along its journey; ignoring Michael’s similar gaze upon his own face.
Like most of his plans, Gob didn’t think about want he was going to do. He just wordlessly pulled their clasped hands towards him while leaning closer to Michael. He buried his face into the crook of his neck and kissed the trail of scotch. Occasionally he licked and nibbled along the way. Gob could taste Michael’s skin and sweat which was mixing together with the bitter taste of the scotch. Following along his jaw, he reached the corner of Michael’s mouth. The hand on his shoulder twitched ever so slightly and if his body didn’t react to every touch from Michael with a tingling sensation, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it.
A noise coming from outside the room startled the pair. A steady rhythm of footsteps echoed through their ears. Michael, only then, realised what kind of position they were in. Their breathing was fast and erratic and if someone walked in now they might get the wrong idea. This caused him to panic and, in his haste to get away, slip and fall back down onto Gob’s legs. Hands scratched at his waist as he heard Gob groan in pain.
“Michael?” Michael’s head whipped around so fast that if they were in a cartoon it would have been accompanied by a comical sound effect. Lindsay stood in the doorway with a blank look on her face, watching her brother straddle her other brother. Both were panting and, by the looks of it, sweating copiously. While she was walking towards the room she’d heard Gob groan in, which now she could only guess, was ecstasy. Michael kept flicking his gaze to Lindsay then Gob then back to Lindsay again. His mouth moved while nothing but silence escaped. Gob didn’t seem to notice anything was happening. After the pain had hit him his eyes just glazed over. He’d never been this close to Michael without him squirming to get away. He couldn’t let this moment go to waste, no matter who was watching. Gob lent forward and captured Michael’s lips with his. As quickly as it happened he pulled away and sucked a drop that was about to disappear below his collar. Michael froze. Gob resurfaced and looked towards Lindsay.
“We spilt some scotch. It seemed a waste not to drink it.”
Author:
blurhawaii
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Michael/Gob
Summary: Lindsay catches them in a compromising position.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrested Development.
A/N: It’s a bit rushed. I forgot all about it because I was caught up in the Harry Potter craze. I had a completely different ending idea involving chocolate sauce but couldn’t get it to work properly.
A Compromising Position
Magic never was one of Gob’s strong suits; nevertheless, he stuck with it. At least this way he could prove to everyone, though mainly Michael, he doesn’t just give up at the first hurdle and that he is not as useless as others have come to believe. He could be exceptionally talented, for all he knew, at what he does (highly unlikely) and if not (highly likely) he would practise until he could practise no more. All this sounded quite admirable in Gob’s head. Surely, Michael would appreciate his efforts, maybe not the magic part but the determination definitely.
The only complication Gob was able to find was, in order to practise he needed equipment. To buy equipment he acquired money and money is what he didn’t have. Asking Michael for the funds seemed to defeat his objective so what was he to do.
Ignoring his own train of thought of the last thirty minutes, Gob sank deeper in the cosy cushions of the model home’s couch. Drowning himself in alcohol seemed like the best thing to do at this moment in time, so that’s what he was doing. His feet were resting on the coffee table supporting most of his body as he had slipped lower than he had meant to. He lay, basically, horizontal apart from his head that which tilted forward against the back of the couch. This particular position made drinking his glass of, whatever was closest to the front of the liquor cabinet quite difficult to do, because before the glass could reach his lips it would spill. Gob coughed and spluttered after another failed attempt at drinking at the same moment a figure stepped into the room. This position also made looking to the side a painful and strenuous thing to do too, but the blurred figure soon became clearer when it moved around the room to stand opposite Gob.
“You know, that position doesn’t look too comfortable Gob, and drinking like that has got to be dangerous…” sighed Michael as he took a step closer to the coffee table and noticed the open bottle of scotch. “ Especially scotch. Gob, it’s one in the afternoon what are you doing drinking scotch?” Not wanting Michael to think he was just sitting there being useless he tried to think of a reason.
“I’m thinking” While collecting another glass Michael chuckled quietly.
“Thinking? About what?” Gob choked when he was trying for another sip of scotch while Michael dropped into the seat next to him. Gob made an effort to answer though his voice sounded raspy and forced, even his eyes were starting to water slightly.
“Oh you know this and that.” Michael didn’t know. That was why he asked.
They both sat in silence, apart from the occasional spluttering coming from Gob, for quite a while. Michael sipped his scotch while glancing over at Gob every now and again to check he wasn’t seriously choking. He soon felt tired of the noise and wanted it to stop as soon as possible.
“Are you going to move from that position any time soon, Gob, because just looking at you is making me uncomfortable.”
“You know what; I wouldn’t even know where to begin.” A dry chuckle escaped Michael’s throat before he could stop it although Gob seemed to bathe in the feeling of causing his brother to laugh and snuggled deeper in the, already, sinking cushions. With a sigh, Michael lent forward and placed his drink on the table; the glass clinking softly as it made contact with the wood. Michael felt Gob’s glazed eyes follow him as he stepped around the table to face him. A callused, strong looking hand moved towards Gob and he couldn’t help but flinch.
“Why are you flinching?” Asked Michael with a hint of annoyance shining through his tone, even though he hadn’t meant it to. Gob blinked blankly.
“I thought you were going to hit me.”
Not caring that he was sure a lot more than just annoyance would be shown through the question he asked anyway.
“Why would I hit you?” Gob actually seemed to contemplate his answer before stating as blankly as he had blinked, “I don’t know.” Michael had forgotten, for a second, why he was standing until a sweaty hand clamped over his. The warm hand tugged hard causing him to loose his balance. What happened next was highly unlikely and the two people involved could do nothing but let it happen as the events unfolded.
Michael landed heavily on Gob’s legs, which were propped up on the coffee table. The weight made his feet crash to the floor pulling the table with them. The table legs, as if they had hinges connecting it to the floor, tipped, the open bottle of scotch and the mostly full glass soared through the air.
After his feet hit the floor, Gob slipped, then his knees quickly followed his feet and he sat straight up while kneeling on the floor. His hand was still clutching Michael’s to make sure he didn’t fall and hurt himself. His other hand grabbed wildly for Michael’s waist to stop him tumbling back onto the corner of the table, while Michael latched onto Gob’s shoulder for the same reason. Michael was straddling Gob’s legs while they both sat in a sort of awkward sit-down waltzing position. Before they could take in the weirdness of the situation the open bottle landed with a painful thud against Michael’s head then emptied all over him. The glass landed with a much quieter thud on the couch before splashing over Gob’s face and neck, soaking into the front of his shirt also.
Silence and stillness followed, neither of them dared to move in fear of setting off another chain reaction. Scotch soaked Michael, his damp hair hung flat against his forehead. It dribbled down his face in a seemingly endless stream. Glistening along his jaw line and throat before disappearing beneath his collar. Gob was mesmerised by it, he followed each drop along its journey; ignoring Michael’s similar gaze upon his own face.
Like most of his plans, Gob didn’t think about want he was going to do. He just wordlessly pulled their clasped hands towards him while leaning closer to Michael. He buried his face into the crook of his neck and kissed the trail of scotch. Occasionally he licked and nibbled along the way. Gob could taste Michael’s skin and sweat which was mixing together with the bitter taste of the scotch. Following along his jaw, he reached the corner of Michael’s mouth. The hand on his shoulder twitched ever so slightly and if his body didn’t react to every touch from Michael with a tingling sensation, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it.
A noise coming from outside the room startled the pair. A steady rhythm of footsteps echoed through their ears. Michael, only then, realised what kind of position they were in. Their breathing was fast and erratic and if someone walked in now they might get the wrong idea. This caused him to panic and, in his haste to get away, slip and fall back down onto Gob’s legs. Hands scratched at his waist as he heard Gob groan in pain.
“Michael?” Michael’s head whipped around so fast that if they were in a cartoon it would have been accompanied by a comical sound effect. Lindsay stood in the doorway with a blank look on her face, watching her brother straddle her other brother. Both were panting and, by the looks of it, sweating copiously. While she was walking towards the room she’d heard Gob groan in, which now she could only guess, was ecstasy. Michael kept flicking his gaze to Lindsay then Gob then back to Lindsay again. His mouth moved while nothing but silence escaped. Gob didn’t seem to notice anything was happening. After the pain had hit him his eyes just glazed over. He’d never been this close to Michael without him squirming to get away. He couldn’t let this moment go to waste, no matter who was watching. Gob lent forward and captured Michael’s lips with his. As quickly as it happened he pulled away and sucked a drop that was about to disappear below his collar. Michael froze. Gob resurfaced and looked towards Lindsay.
“We spilt some scotch. It seemed a waste not to drink it.”