"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
As the four men awkwardly shuffled into the gym following their strange, slightly lustful, beautiful, and emotional morning, the person the three longtime boxers came to loathe the most was standing right smack in the middle of their training grounds.
His smooth and large hands gripped a clipboard in the most elegant way possible, ironic for it being the least elegant place on Earth if you were to ask anyone that trains there.
Michaels brows rose at the comment, eyes landing curiously on the man he recognized as his boss from last night.
His hand settled comfortably on the small of Michaels back, resting there for a bit too long.
The boy shuddered.
"The fuck is he doing here, he doesn't come 'round unless there's more than three fights happening in one day." Calum inquired, hand unintentionally coming to grip the strap of his gym bag.
Ashton rolled his eyes, turning to look at his boys.
He wasn't sure when he started considering the red haired punk one of his boys.
"Yea, that or he's got a cheque bigger than his ego-"
"Ah, my finest men!" the boss exclaimed, voice booming and shaking off the walls as if they were they only ones standing in the room.
Michaels lip quirked into a subtle smile at the snide comment made by Ashton. The youngest fighter directed his gaze at the floor in an effort to not offend the very person who signs their cheques. God knows the three would send him to his grave if he was the reason their pay was decreased.
Something about seeing Michael so unashamedly smiley made their stomach churn in something indescribable.
The three were just hoping they wouldn't vomit on the guest star.
"Mr. Brooks, good to see you again." Calum replied monotonously, trying to keep his hay-wired emotions under wrap. The boss smiled brightly, mischief and underlying motives being present yet so hidden it could make even a psychologists head spin.
Mr. Brooks gave a subtle nod of the head towards the tanned man, "A pleasure, Hood." he responded delicately.
It was only then that the three older boxers realized the bosses disguised gaze wasn't focused on them and wasn't nearly as interested in seeing them for a second day in a row.
No, his dark eyes gleamed at none other than Michael himself.
Once the youngest boxer believed he could look up without making a bad impression, his dull green eyes met with the uncomfortable gaze.
It reminded him of this morning, the way they all whispered quietly and watched Michael sleep. Their gaze burned into his skin, watching and observing the most intimate parts of him on display, but the burn wasn't dreadful.
Maybe that was the dreadful part.
The boss' lips curled.
"Michael, my boy! A busy day of training ahead of you, hm?" he questioned, taking a step to the side to imply that he wanted to take a lap with Michael around the gym.
The boy eyed the new space beside the man wearily, finger nails digging into the skin of his palm.
The man was beginning to grow impatient, obviously used to receiving what he wanted when he wanted. "Now now, Michael," he tutted, "take a stroll with me, would you? I would love to discuss your huge upcoming fight.."
And as the man trailed off on a list of useless topics he was clearly dying to speak to the boy about, his hand managed to find its way back to the small of Michaels back.
YOU ARE READING
Knockout • OT4
Fanfiction"I don't know if I want to fuck him or make him bleed the colour of that stupid red hair." "Why not both?" - Where Michael joins an underground boxing club and can't seem to stay out of trouble. bottom!michael dom!luke dom!cal dom!ash
