Partners in Crime (Trevor x Michael GTA V)

Chapter 1

Trevor gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles turning white. He raced down the nearly deserted backroads, letting the wind tear through his disheveled, greasy hair. Behind him, the sun began to set over the Alamo Sea, waves reflecting a kaleidoscope of pink and orange from the clouds.

Trevor's pulse pounded in his ears, louder than the roar of the engine. Every muscle in his body was tense, the weight of what he had to do bearing down on him. The fading light of the setting sun made the shadows grow long, stretching across the cracked asphalt as if trying to reach out and pull him back.

When he finally skidded to a halt outside his house, the dust hadn't even settled before Trevor was out of the truck, slamming the door so hard it shook. He stormed toward the trailer, his chest heaving with rage and something else he couldn't quite name. The door flew open before he could reach it, and there stood Michael, arms crossed, the usual mask of calm hiding whatever storm raged beneath.

"You just gonna stand there like an asshole or let me come inside?" Trevor's voice was cold, but his eyes—his damn eyes—flashed with something that cut right through Michael's anger.

Michael stepped to the side and Trevor pushed past him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, T?" Michael asked, though it was more like a statement than a question.

Trevor grabbed a beer out of the fridge and slammed the door shut before he responded, "We don't have the time to go over all that," he said with a half smile, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing.

"I mean it. You kidnap Madrazzo's wife, and then leave me stuck here to babysit while you and your boyfriend run off to god knows where." Michael's voice hitched at the word boyfriend, unable to disguise his annoyance. "Where did you even go?"

"Why do you care?" Trevor rolled his eyes, handing Michael a beer.

Mikey scoffed, "I don't." He tried to say it calmly, but the words came out loud and desperate. "It's just – you're not doing yourself any favors killing everyone in sight."

"Just because I like the life and you feel guilty about it doesn't make you more of a man than me." Trevor lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long drink before continuing, his voice rough, "And you know what? Deep down, I know you believe the bullshit, the picket fences, the fucking happy endings-"

Michael cut him off, "yeah, and your street philosopher bullshit, that's gotten you real far," he said sarcastically, leaning on the dirty counter littered with old food and shattered glass. Mrs. Madrazzo had done her best, but the whole place still reeked of vomit and piss. "Yeah, you've achieved perfect balance," Michael jeered.

"Balance? What are you even talking about? Fuck, ten years in Los Santos and your brain has melted. You-you say words that have no meaning. What even is balance, huh?" Trevor talked with his hands, his half-empty beer sloshing over the rim as he spoke expressively. He was starting to get angry, and Mikey, per usual, was calm – which only pissed Trevor off more. "And you call me mad? Compared to you, I'm the sanest mother fucker I know," Trevor said lowly.

Michael couldn't contain his laughter. Trevor? Sane? In what world?

Trevor's cheeks began to heat up, self-conscious under Michael's intense, scrutinizing gaze. He yelled, "Yeah. Sane! Sane! Sane! I'm so fucking sane I should open up my own fucking mental health clinic!"

Michael laughed harder, which enraged Trevor even more.

The space between them vanished as Trevor grabbed Michael by the collar, pulling him close. The fury in his eyes was matched only by the raw, unspoken emotions beneath it. "Are you gonna stop being an asshole now?"

Michael's breath hitched, but he didn't back down. If anything, he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Maybe. Probably not, but I'll try."

For a split second, the world seemed to stop. They stood there, so close that Trevor could feel Michael's breath against his skin, could see the way his eyes darkened, filled with something that wasn't quite anger anymore. Trevor's grip loosened, his hands sliding down to Michael's chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

"You're such a bastard," Trevor murmured, the words laced with a heat that had nothing to do with the desert air.

Michael's hand moved to Trevor's wrist, gripping it just tight enough to hurt, but neither of them pulled away. "Yeah, and you're a fucking lunatic."

Trevor's eyes searched Michael's, his breathing heavy, his heart hammering against his ribs. There was no space left between them now, just a thin line between hate and something close to desire.

Michael's jaw clenched, and Trevor's heart pounded so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts. He wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly they were closer, and Trevor's hand hovered just above Michael's chest. Michael swallowed hard, betraying the mask of calm he always tried to wear.

They both seemed to realize what was happening as the tension snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. Trevor and Michael's lips collided with the full force of all their built-up anger and resentment. It wasn't gentle – it was messy, a clash of teeth and tongues – full of frustration that had been boiling under the surface for too long.

When they broke apart, there was no going back, and no pretending like it didn't happen.

THEY KISS!!!