fic: Grape Jelly and the Gates of Hell

[rubberbutton]

Title: Grape Jelly and the Gates of Hell
Fandom: Arrested Development (!)
Pairing: very light Michael/GOB
Summary: Just playing around with Gob and Michael. Also trying to figure out what to do with the narration.
Rating: PG

Michael paused in the doorway of his bedroom, a hand still loosening his conservative blue tie. Gob was sprawled across Michael’s bed, a messily assembled peanut butter and jelly sandwich resting on his bare chest.  He looked up at Michael’s entry and idly brushed crumbs off onto the sheets.

“You’re out of grape. Who the hell runs out of grape jelly?” Gob demanded in irritation. “It’s one of the basic food groups. Like animal crackers and whiskey.”

Michael sighed and finished removing his tie, carefully hanging it up on the rack in the closet with the others. “I’m so sorry I’ve inconvenienced you like that. You could go buy some. Right now, actually,” Michael suggested.

“Naw,” Gob dismissed blithely. “I’ve already made the sandwich.”

Michael winced as Gob pushed himself up to lean against the headboard leaving peanut buttery smears across the coverlet. “So why are you here, anyway? Girlfriend toss you out?” Michael removed his shoes and lined them up under the ties and closed the closet door.

“Right,” Gob chuffed with uncomfortable laughter. “Like she’d throw me out. She was begging me to stay but I’d had enough—she was really cramping my style.”

“So she threw you out,” Michael said.

“...Yeah.” Gob took a large bite of sandwich and continued to talk through it. “But at least she packed my stuff up instead of throwing out on the lawn like the last one.”

Michael flinched away from the spray of crumbs but put a comforting hand on Gob’s knee. “I’m sorry, buddy, that’s rough. Maybe it’ll go better next time. If there’s anything I can do—”

“I can stay here?” Gob asked hopefully.

“—Except that,” Michael finished.

“Aw, come on, Mikey. Just for a night or two.”

“A night or two that will turn into a week or two and then a month or two and then I’ll never get rid of you....not that I’d want to get rid of you,” Michael amended before Gob could react. “But I really don’t have the room here.”

“You let Buster stay here,” Gob said sulkily, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I didn’t let him do anything. Plus it was a disaster.” Michael grimaced remember the sleepless nights he’d spent, desperately trying to keep Buster from spooning up against his back. “It was cramped; he stole the covers and snored. I couldn’t bring girls home but couldn’t tell them why I couldn’t bring them home. ‘I’m sleeping with my brother’ is not something girls want to hear, funnily enough.”

“Oh, Michael,” Gob said reprovingly, shaking his head. “We both know there weren’t any girls. There are never girls when it comes to you.” He seemed to remember that he wanted something from Michael and that it was probably better not to cast aspersions upon his manhood. “Besides, I don’t snore—”

This was a lie. Gob snored like an on-coming train and, worse, put his icy feet on the calves of his unsuspecting bed partners.

“—I don’t steal covers. Hell, I’ll even wear boxers. You won’t know I’m here.”

“I doubt that,” Michael retorted, trying to brush the crumbs from the bed, but only succeeding in spreading them further.

“Please, Mikey, please?” Gob pleaded, leaning forward earnestly and gripping Michael’s shoulders. “I can’t live with Mom. Cannot. If I have to zip her up one more time...” He shuddered at the memory.

Michael sighed again, more heavily. “Fine. But this is the last time, Gob. I mean—” Michael was cut off as Gob yanked him in for an airway-restricting hug.

“You’re the best brother ever.” Gob stroked the back of Michael’s head and neck. “The best brother ever.”

Michael tolerated the embrace for a moment, his arms awkwardly closing around Gob, but then he struggled to extricate himself. Gob refused to loosen his grip, his face pressed to the side of Michael’s neck, his weight threatening to bowl Michael over onto his back.

“Whoa, hey, there,” Michael protested, finally getting the leverage to escape Gob’s grasp. “You’re really upset about this break up, aren’t you?”

Gob wasn’t upset about the loss of his girlfriend, but instead was annoyed about having to leave her cushy apartment and to admit another failed relationship. Plus, he really enjoyed his brother's attention.

“Of course I am!” snapped Gob. “Some of us have a heart, you know. A heart that she ripped from my chest like that vampire chick in Queen of the Damned. She ripped it out and put it in a blender and made a smoothie out.” Gob was warming to his metaphor and decided to take it further. “A smoothie you’d drink with those novelty straws that are all bendy and come in colors like pink and blue—”

“I get the idea,” Michael interrupted. “Look, Gob, I’m sorry. But it’ll be okay. I bet by the end of the week you’ll have a new girlfriend.”

Gob shot Michael a disgusted look and threw himself back against the bed. “I don’t feel that women are toys to be replaced, Michael—”

He did.

“—I have more respect for them than that.”

He didn’t.

Gob pulled the pillow over his head as Michael considered his heart-broken brother.

“Come on, Gob,” Michael coaxed. “How about if we go get some dinner?” The sandwich had bounced to the floor in the fervor of the hug. “We can go to that Mexican place you like so much. At least take the pillow off your head. It’s going to smell like your aftershave."

“I don’t want you to see my tears!” Gob’s voice was muffled through the down of the pillow.

“You’ve never had a problem with me seeing your tears before,” Michael reasoned. “In fact, you’ve invited me to taste them.” He lay down next to his brother and lifted a corner of the pillow. “I know it’s tough for you, but you’re a trooper. I’ve always admired how tough you are. No matter how bad things get, you always get back up.” Michael punched Gob lightly on the arm.

There was a loud sniffle and Gob lifted the pillow enough to peer out. “I’ve always tried to be a role model for you. Your hero, really.”

“Yeah...exactly.” Michael swallowed. “So about dinner?”

“How'd you like to buy your hero dinner?” Gob asked.

“Love to,” Michael managed to grin. “But you are sleeping on the couch.”

*  *  *  *  *

Michael woke as the bed dipped and bounced. He rolled over, unhappy about being woken and even unhappier to see Gob looming over him, the neck of his robe gaping open.

“It’s three AM, could this possibly wait?” Michael hissed, struggling to focus in the dark.

“Not really,” Gob told him. “I lost the couch.”

“You what...?” Michael waited for the sense in Gob’s words to become apparent and then realized this was a futile hope.

Gob had indeed ‘lost the couch’. The living room, already located on a sinkhole of unmanaged waste, had been hurried in its decent by the weight of Gob’s tossing and turning and the entire corner of the living room had gone from merely unstable to nonexistent.

“The couch is somewhere in the basement now. I’m just lucky it didn’t take me with it.”

“What?” Michael sat up hurriedly. “We don’t have a basement.”

Gob laughed. “Well, we do now. Or possibly the gates of hell have opened. Either way, the couch is definitely gone.” He shucked off his robe and peeled back the covers.

“Gob, this isn’t funny. If the living room’s given out, the whole structural integrity of the house has been compromised. It could collapse at any minute.”

“Huh.” Gob pulled the sheet up to his chin and stole one of Michael’s pillows. “That does sound serious.”

“More than serious—we could all be crushed.”

“It’s just a living room, Michael; we’re not going to be that disappointed.” Gob wriggled a little closer.

“I meant literally crushed.”

“Oh, I see.” Gob draped an arm lightly around Michael’s waist. “Surely it’s not that bad. If it was going to go tonight, it already would have.”

Michael reluctantly let himself be drawn back down to the pillows. “Don’t blame me if we wake up dead.”

“Oh, Mike. When have I ever blamed you for anything?” Gob soothed.

“I’m not going to dignify that question with an answer,” Michael replied, debating whether it was worth the effort to force Gob back to his side of the bed. Finally, though, he just let his arm lie against Gob’s where his rested against Michael’s stomach. “And I thought you said you’d wear boxers.”

“I found them too binding,” Gob confessed. “Sorry if I poke you.”

“Ah!” Michael yelped.

“I just said sorry, geez.”

“No, your feet are freezing.”

Comments

[rubberbutton.livejournal.com]

*wild applause*

Thank you, thank you very much.

Hee! And I am LOVING the little voiceover moments -- I've always felt that this would be a nearly impossible fandom to replicate because of those, but you did it splendidly.

Yay! Yeah, I wasn't sure how to handle it. After some intensive fanfic reading research, it seemed like everyone dealt with it differently. And the flashbacks. Some authors put them in, but it's hard to do it gracefully.

I found a couple of editorial oopsies

Thanks. "Editorial oopsies" is my new favorite phrase. I'll be saying it to myself all morning.

I'm glad you liked. It felt so strange and frightening to be straying from House fandom. And I swear that me suddenly taking in interest in Bluthcest after Strikethrough '07 is purely coincidental. ...As incriminating as it looks.

[ignazwisdom.livejournal.com]

Was House your first fandom? Also, you know, I'm really not an incest reader -- like, at all -- but it's canon in Blades of Glory, and I've been thinking about that since Strikethrough, too. Oh, if those nuts at "Warriors for Innocence" only knew ...

[rubberbutton.livejournal.com]

Was House your first fandom?

More or less. It's the first fandom I've been relatively active in (for me, at least) and have written substantial amounts for. My first real fangirling was for Star Wars in 6th grade. I read the novels and made a lightsaber and other wildly embarrassing things. But the only other fangirl I knew was my best friend. I read fanfic in high school, some. Mostly Labyrinth.

I did some dabbling (read: smut) in Naruto and Samurai Champloo before House owned my soul.

Also, you know, I'm really not an incest reader -- like, at all -- but it's canon in Blades of Glory, and I've been thinking about that since Strikethrough, too.

I'm normally not a big 'cest fan. Don't ask me why I've made such an enthusiastic exception for Michael/Gob.

Okay, I just told you not to ask, but now I’ve done some thinking about it and...

The thing that makes incest creepy (besides recessive genes), I think, is the crossing the line between relationships. Especially when those relational bounds are crossed against the volition of a one party. And inter-generational incest does still make me uncomfortable. The age difference engenders an inequality in the power dynamic that will (almost) always render the younger party a victim.

However, I like slash because of the preexisting brotherhood/friendship dynamic—like House/Wilson and Chazz/Jimmy. Both are friendships with a fraternal bent. That transition from friends to lovers interests me.

As for Michael/Gob. Well. Gob’s desperate need for his brother’s love and approval (especially in light of his father and mother’s distain for him) is just heartbreaking. Add his questionable affection for his brother (all the hugging? Come on! And let’s not forget the dove scene (”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRAlHAHc8DA”)) and his questionable sexuality and it's pretty easy to come to an incestuous conclusion.

And the show already has a penchant for incest. George Michael/Maeby, Maeby/Steve Holt, Buster/Lucille, and even Michael/Lindsay. What I guess I’m saying with this point is: they started it.

Not to mention my affection for fucked-up relationships; no wonder I’ve developed a taste for Michael/Gob.

Oy. I'll shut up now.

[rubberbutton.livejournal.com]

Fuckin' A. This (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SRAlHAHc8DA) dove scene. Grrr.