You Know I'm No Good

part two of the GTA V 'verse Trevor-centric series do not spray into eyes.

I don't own anything from the Grand Theft Auto series, least of all Trevor, it all belongs to Rockstar, title is from the Amy Winehouse song, I'm not profiting from this nonsense, it's probably for the best, repeat ad infinitum.

note - if you're new to this mess, you might want to run over to my profile and read the first installment in the series. Things will definitely make more sense that way. Happy reading!

One

Evelyn's life had long since returned to normal.

Well, "normal." When one had been taken hostage not once, but twice by the same notorious criminal who was wanted all throughout the state for a rap sheet as long as one's arm, and when one had not only survived those encounters, but had also developed some form of twisted escapist quasi-romantic feelings for said criminal, "normal" might no longer be realistically accessible.

But at the very least, it was all over. After her second encounter with Trevor Philips had ended without (much) bloodshed, Evelyn had gone back to work the next Monday with no one the wiser, and like it had the last time, her routine clicked seamlessly back into place. It tripped her out a little bit, all that normalcy after the weird fucking night and day she'd spent with him, but soon enough, life caught back up to her.

She'd even managed to push any residual thoughts of and feelings about Trevor to the very back in her mind (she would have preferred getting rid of them entirely, since it would make life much simpler, but they proved resilient, cropping up every now and again late at night, especially when she'd been drinking). It helped that she hadn't heard from him since he'd left a "junk yard dog" in her house a month later with a note pinned to its collar that essentially explained that the animal would attack any man he saw (which turned out not to be true—the dog might be less comfortable and trustful around men, but neighborhood walks proved that he was perfectly capable of behaving himself).

Really subtle, Trevor.

But that was three months ago. It was now late August, the summer heat fading into mostly cool breezes in the beachside town of North Chumash, and Evelyn, on the occasion that she did think about Trevor, suspected that he had forgotten all about her.

She wasn't strictly surprised. After all, their parting hadn't exactly been amiable, and even with the gift of the dog, she could see him deciding to put the entire encounter behind him and focus forward. He was like that, she thought—likely to leave the inconvenient behind, and Evelyn was nothing to him if not inconvenient.

Her fear and anticipation faded, as they always did in human beings, requiring too much energy and focus to be sustainable for long. She resolved to look forward, too.

Which was why she was out on a date the day Trevor came crashing back on scene.

The date was odd for two very big reasons. First: while Evelyn had her friend groups, saw them often, and made sure to stay socialized and in touch, she also wasn't the sort to crave any sort of regular companion. She didn't have anything she could consider a best friend, she didn't plan on ever marrying, and she hadn't had a boyfriend, not even casually, since she left college. Most of the time, people just didn't interest her enough for her to want to spend all her time around them.

Secondly: those thoughts about Trevor were still present in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to shove them down, and Evelyn had never been romantically or sexually interested in more than one person at once. One person that she was interested in was hard enough to find.

Alex, it seemed, was the exception to that rule.

He was a regular at her bank, a short, cute Latino guy about her age with a pointed nose and a wide, charming grin who started flirting with her the day he first started dropping by the bank.

This was shortly after the whole home invasion scenario, and so Evelyn wasn't particularly responsive at first. However, he kept coming by week after week, and the man was so gentle, even while flirting mercilessly with her—even his body language was unaggressive, and gradually, she found herself relaxing around him, even starting to flirt back. Only then did he ask her out, and, rather surprising herself, she'd said yes.

They met for a late lunch in one of the little seaside cafes, and the conversation struck up immediately. He was just confessing to her how he'd been stopping by unnecessarily for months—"It's true, my job has direct deposit, I don't even need to physically visit the bank, like, ever"—when a shadow fell over them.

Evelyn looked up and her heart jumped into her throat.

"Hey, this is cozy," Trevor said casually, glancing from Evelyn to Alex and back to her again. "You moved on fast."

Evelyn's stomach curled into a tight little knot and she blinked, trying to convince herself that he was really here—which wasn't hard; she'd forgotten how he practically absorbed the energy of any given place, how he seemed louder and larger and more real than anything else around. Seeing him in public really drove that home. He was dressed in black work pants, filthy scuffed-up boots, and a black motorcycle jacket with red sleeves, zipped all the way up against the wind. His hair had grown out some since she'd seen him last, but mostly on the sides, rumpled up like he'd been digging his hands in it, his face was stubbled heavily and sported a variety of cuts and scrapes that ranged from fresh to nearly-healed, and cheap plastic sunglasses covered his eyes, though the lenses weren't opaque enough that she couldn't see his glare from where she sat.

Basically, he looked like the psychopath he was.

"Um," Alex spoke up with a hesitant smile, looking at her for answers. "Who's this, Evelyn?"

"Ah," Trevor barked abruptly, holding an aggressive palm out in Alex's face, "I'm asking the questions here, pal." He turned his back to Alex, standing directly in front of Evelyn and thumbing backwards towards her date. "Who's that chump?"

Yeah, I'm not going to answer that question. She'd had a second to get her bearings, and so, trying to appear approximately a hundred percent calmer than she felt, she brushed a strand of hair out of her face, looked up at him, and said, "Trevor, what are you doing here?"

He snorted, glanced over at the ocean across the street, planted his hands on his hips, and looked back at her. "Uh, I'm here to get you," he said, as if it should be obvious.

She frowned. "Um...?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I don't have time for this shit," he said, and lunged at her. She squeaked, not knowing whether to expect a damn kiss or a rusty knife to the throat, but he just buried his shoulder in her stomach and the next second he was lifting her up out of her chair, striding away from the table with her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing (which was not the fucking case).

"Trevor," she howled, immediately driving her knee into his stomach, rewarded with a gratifying "oof" before he bounced her hard on his shoulder, knocking the wind right out of her.

"Behave yourself, Evy; Christ," he scolded her, sounding a little strained.

Fuck. Evelyn pushed herself upright, bracing against his back and seeing that Alex was going for his phone, looking fairly panicked. Shit. Of course she was going to have to do damage control for Trevor's ass again. "Alex, don't call the damn cops," she shouted back to him, struggling to get the words with her lack of breath. "He's my fucking ex but he's not dangerous," she added, lying through her teeth.

"Um," Alex said, sliding back his chair and standing up, taking a few frightened steps in the direction they were going. "Are you sure? Cause it looks like he's kinda kidnapping you right now."

"Did you gain a little weight?" Trevor asked her as an aside, clearly having determined that he was above what was happening behind him. "Your ass looks amazing."

She was tempted to knee him again for that, if not for the hand she felt grasping at her ass through her jeans as the bastard helped himself to a feel. Instead, teeth gritted as she tried to keep control of herself and the situation, she called to Alex, "He's not. Look, I'll call you, okay? Don't call the cops!"

Then Trevor took a corner and she lost sight of her date, and a moment later, she was being dropped backwards into the seat of a car. She struggled upright immediately, finding that he'd put her in the driver's side a split second before he came sliding in beside her, making her hurry across the bench to the passenger's side before she got sat on. Of course, the second she reached the other side, the door was right there within grasp, and she had her hand on the handle and was pushing the door open without a second thought before Trevor said, "Oh, come on, Evy!"

Despite herself, she paused, and reluctantly, she glanced over at him. He'd whipped his sunglasses off, holding them between the fingers of the hand he had extended towards her, but he didn't touch her, just scowled at her. She sat frozen for a second with absolutely no idea what to do, and then Trevor said, "Just… close the fuckin' door."

Later, she'd attribute it to the fact that he wasn't grabbing at her and that he had no weapons on her—that it actually sounded like he was asking, despite the fact that he'd phrased it as an imperative. She sighed, tightened her grip on the handle, and yanked the door shut.

Trevor's face split into a smirk, and he dropped his glasses onto the seat between them before reaching for the ignition. "Thought so."

"Yeah, keep it up," she muttered as she settled back into her seat. "I'm not above doing a jump and roll out of this thing if you piss me off, you know."

"Ah, in that case, I better get up to top speeds as soon as possible," he said, reinforcing the threat by gunning the accelerator and throwing her back into her seat as the truck peeled out of the lot.

"Trevor, don't you dare, there aren't any seat belts in this fucking thing!" she yelped, grasping for the dashboard just so she had something to brace against as he whipped out into the road. He just laughed, a manic, high-pitched sound that had her suddenly regretting she didn't bail out of the truck the second she got the chance.

Despite the threat, he actually evened out his driving a little once they were on the main road, and as soon as she felt slightly less like she was about to die in a horrible fireball of a deadly collision, she relaxed minutely, blowing a strand of hair out of her face in irritation—not that it made a bit of difference; the fact that Trevor's truck didn't have any windows meant that her hair was whipping right back in her face the second after she moved it. Fortunately, she'd been wearing her bag slung across her chest; it had survived the abduction and she was able to find a hair tie among its contents.

As she wrestled her hair out of her face, she turned to Trevor, and, knowing she sounded distinctly antagonistic but not particularly caring, she said, "So what's the plan this time? Gonna loop me into an arson plot?"

"Mmm, not a bad idea if we have time," he said. She closed her eyes for a second, searching for strength and patience, and Trevor went on: "But for right now—we're just going to Los Santos."

Her eyes popped open again. He didn't seem to notice that she was staring at him like he'd just said they were dropping in on the farmer's market, so she took it upon herself to demand, "Why?"

He glanced over at her, forehead furrowing. "Because I have to head down there for business and I didn't want to make a fuckin' three hour drive alone, is that all right with you?"

She shook her head, utterly baffled. "I just… I have so many questions."

"Evelyn has questions. Go fuckin' figure," he snorted.

"How did you know where I was?"

He glanced swiftly at her again, then back at the road. "Uh… Lifeinvader."

"What?"

"Hey, people are trading their right to privacy for whatever shallow fulfillments they get from social media, ain't my fault," he said defensively. "You don't want people knowing where you are, don't tell the whole fucking internet."

She shook her head, remembering suddenly that she had, in fact, responded to a friend who wanted to get lunch, telling her that she was going out with Alex. That friend had wanted to know where they were going; Evelyn told her. That's the last time I'm ever doing that.

"Who is that Kelly girl, by the way? She's kinda hot."

Evelyn snorted. "Yeah, she's an aspiring personal shopper who spends all her spare time playing volleyball and surfing. I kinda don't think she's your type."

"Oooh, jealous?"

"Why should I be? You're not stalking her Lifeinvader page." She double-took swiftly. "Wait. In order to see anything but profile picture and name even on public pages, you have to have your own account." Trevor's fingers suddenly got twitchy, and Evelyn couldn't help the huge grin that spread over her face. "You've got a fucking Lifeinvader account!"

"Look, I use it to gather information; I'm never actually on," he said defensively.

Evelyn laughed out loud, and Trevor scowled and shook his head, like her amusement didn't warrant comment. After a second, she asked, "So where's your location on there?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, where are you coming from? Kinda got the impression that you weren't living in North Chumash." The implied because if you were close by, you could have stopped by before now hung in the air unspoken, and she hoped he didn't pick up on it.

"Er." He glanced sideways at her, before twitching his head a little bit, fuck it, and saying, "Sandy Shores."

Evelyn's eyebrows shot up. "That's two hours from here."

"An hour and a half, if you drive like I do," he said defensively.

"And it's southeast of here, through woods and mountains. At the very least, driving to North Chumash is going out of your way if you're heading to Los Santos," she said, staring at him.

"Is there a point you're fucking nearing, Evelyn?"

The grin had returned to her face, and she couldn't pull it back, even though she recognized that the clear happiness she felt at the realization pointed to her being more seriously out of her depth emotionally with him than she'd thought she was. "Oh, nothing. Just that you drove two hours out of your way—just to pick me upso that you, um, wouldn't have to make a three hour drive alone."

Trevor didn't say anything, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white. Evelyn knew it was probably unwise to tease him further, given that he was probably fully willing to kick her out of the car while it was moving if he suddenly decided he wasn't enjoying her company anymore, but damned if she wasn't feeling giddy, and with that giddiness came a certain feeling of invulnerability. She tilted her head over into his space, practically leaning against his shoulder, and crooned, "You missed me."

"All right, goddamnit, I fuckin' wanted to see you!" he roared, exploding at the drop of a dime. "Jesus, you don't have to put my balls in a vice over it!"

She tried to control her laughter as she swayed back into her seat, knowing that he would read it as mocking when really it was… well, relief. She realized now that the thought of never seeing him again had been a bad one, and despite the circumstances of their reunion, she was feeling particularly joyful. Which pointed to her being all shades of fucked up, worse than she'd realized, but at the moment, she didn't care. Caring comes later, I assume, so for the moment I'm just… gonna let myself have this.

Trevor didn't let it lie for long. "And anyway," he ground out, "you didn't make a run for it when you got the chance, and you're over there… giggling like a fuckin' schoolgirl. You missed me too." His eyes slid sideways towards her. "Didn't you?"

She met his gaze. A few months ago, she would have blatantly lied, or even more blatantly dodged the question, but time to process things had made her feel a little more certain about the things she was willing to say in front of Trevor—things she regretted not being surer or more clear about last time around. Holding his eyes, she said, "Yeah, I did."

The grin she got then was practically boyish, odd on the face of a man she presumed was in his forties but somehow fitting. She felt her lips twisting without her permission and so she immediately faced front, hiding her smile and trying to ignore the fact that she was feeling the impulse to reach out and take his hand like a damn high school kid.

Of course, then, Trevor being Trevor, he smashed the mood to bits: "In that case, what're the chances of a little bit of road head?"

She suddenly found she had no trouble wiping the smile away, glaring at him instead. "You haven't changed a bit, I see."

"That's not an answer."

"The answer is no. Dick."

"Ahh, color me surprised. Still the same old boring Evy."

She didn't respond to that. She'd already told him how she felt about his labeling people who didn't live his lifestyle boring, and at this point, she figured he was angling for reverse psychology. If he seriously thought she was going to blow him on a dare—yeah, he'd been away from her longer than he'd realized.

For a while, they drove in silence, with just the sound of the ocean and the wind whipping in through the windows to keep them company, then Trevor sighed loudly. "Come on, Evy. Why'd I go through the trouble to bring you along for company if you're just gonna clam up? You didn't have this much trouble talking last time."

Evelyn, who had simply been reflecting on their situation and trying to decide just how deeply she was going to find herself mired in it this time, shot him a half-amused, half-annoyed look. "Yeah, and with that in mind—you sure you want me to talk? Last I checked, you weren't exactly a fan of the things I had to say."

"Yeah, cause half the things you said were bullshit."

"And the other half?"

"Brutally honest. Which I'm a fan of, so let's try and stick with that."

She watched him for a second, then gave a twitchy shrug, deciding that if he was asking for it… "You know that dog you gave me?"

He shot a quick sideways glance at her, scowling instantly. "You didn't take him to the fucking pound, did you?"

"No! What the fuck? No!" Of course, she'd be lying if she said it hadn't been a possibility—that was before she'd discovered that the dog was utterly devoted to her from that first time she'd walked into her house and had never done so much as show her his teeth. As it was, she didn't think Trevor needed to know that the thought had ever even crossed her mind.

"Okay, good. Cause it wasn't fucking easy to get him. If you'd gotten rid of him, I'd be fucking pissed."

"Wait, how did you—" she started, before deciding abruptly that she did not want to know. "Never mind. No, he's at home right now, probably sleeping in front of the door waiting for me to get home. I was just going to tell you that I do not call him Butch."

Trevor double-took. "What? Why the fuck not?"

"Because that name is cliché as fuck, especially for a junkyard dog ora guard dog," Evelyn said honestly.

"What?"

"Anyway, he's not a Butch."

"F—" Trevor started, cutting himself off and staring at her like she'd sprouted a new head (and like he wasn't sure whether or not his first instinct to decapitate said head would be an acceptable course of action). Finally, sounding long-suffering and rubbing at the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, he said, "Okay, Evy—if he's not a Butch, then what is he?"

"He's a Napoleon."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Am not. He's fierce, stocky, and smart and tough as hell."

"You know what, Evelyn? I'm starting to remember in excruciating detail—you're right. I don't want you to talk. Dear God."

Evelyn laughed out loud, and when she'd subsided, she found her eyes fixed on Trevor again. He was frowning, the expression deepening all of the considerable lines of his face and making him look, frankly, terrifying. At least, it would be if she didn't know for a fact that the only reason she was around him again was because he'd felt like seeing her. It made one slightly less inclined to fear for one's life.

"Thank you, by the way," she said on impulse. "He's been great to have around—and he hasn't mauled anyone innocent, least of all me, so overall I think you did a pretty good job there."

He grunted. She thought maybe he looked a little uncomfortable with the expression of gratitude; he just said, "You know, there are other ways to say thank you."

"Yep, and verbally just saying 'thank you' is sufficient for me."

Trevor groaned in annoyance. "Jesus. Am I ever gonna get any action out of you?"

"Maybe if you quit trying to get 'action' out of me every two seconds," Evelyn said frankly.

He seemed to consider this for a moment as he looked out at the road, and then, in painfully polite tones, he said, "So. What have you been up to?"

She laughed out loud. "Okay, not that I don't appreciate that you're making a gesture—I do—but there's no way you actually care."

"What the fuck do you know? Maybe I do," he said, sounding petulant.

She recognized his tone for the warning sign that it was and didn't scrape at him anymore. Instead, she cleared her throat and said, "Um—well, I'm still at the bank. Still seeing people every day, every weekend. I like having a dog to run with these days; Napoleon's got a lot of energy and needs to be taken around the neighborhood at least twice a day."

She saw him mouth Napoleon, nose wrinkled in disgust, obviously not over the name change (which personally, she didn't think was that horrible). In retaliation, she switched gears: "Trying to meet new people, too."

He snorted. "And by meet new people, I suppose you mean looking for people to fuck. How's that going?"

"You tell me. You kind of crash-landed into my first real date in a while."

"What, you mean with Pablo at the café back there?"

She read the racist connotations of the question as an underhanded attempt to get Alex's actual name out of her, and so she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she said, "Yeah. Do I need to worry that you're going to go after him?"

He blinked at her, looking startled, and she thought it was a bad sign that she couldn't tell if it was faked or not. "What, you—think I'm jealous cause you went out on a date with someone?"

When he phrased it that way, he made it sound like she was angling to get a reaction out of him—as if she'd set up the date purely to see what he would do, that she was now poking to see exactly what effect it had had on him, which, of course, was bullshit. She'd gone out with Alex because she liked him; there was not a single thought in her mind that Trevor would show up right in the middle to witness it. No, she was asking because it was Trevor Philips, and because based on what she knew of him, it wouldn't surprise her a bit if he went psycho stalker upon finding out that she might be interested in someone else.

She didn't think it was wise to say that, though, so she just stared at him, refusing to say yes or no, just waiting, because she knew he wouldn't be able to resist telling her exactly what he thought about the situation.

Sure enough, he returned his attention to the road and chuckled low. "Oh-ho-ho. Evy. You're still going strong, I see."

"What?" she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.

"The fucking lying to yourself. Let me tell you, I've known plenty of people who do it without thinking, but you—oh, you elevate it to a high art."

"Are you going to tell me what you're talking about anytime soon, or—?"

"Yeah, you know, I will. Because fucking obviously, if I wait around till you figure it out, I might as well just go straight to my grave right fucking now." She threw out an annoyed hand, you have the floor so quit fucking around and make use of it, and gladly, he obliged. "I'm not jealous, Evy, because I don't fucking need to be. Cause I know."

"You know what?"

The shit-eating grin on his face made her suddenly want to slap him, so she balled up her hands into fists and pressed them tightly into her lap as he indicated himself with a hand to his chest. "You got a taste of ol' Uncle T, and just like that, you're hooked. See, you spend enough time dealing, like I certainly have, you figure out that everyone has their poison, their drug of choice. Now, yours might not be actual drugs, but that don't necessarily put you in the clear. You, Evelyn, are a Grade A adrenaline junkie—closeted, maybe, but not for fucking long. And who provides the sweetest fix you've ever tasted, huh?"

Evelyn was frowning. "Wait, just… two seconds. You're telling me—in so many words—that you think I'm addicted to you?"

"DING DING DING DING!" Trevor roared cheerfully, the sudden volume making Evelyn flinch. "We have a winner!"

"That… is so fucking wrong, I don't even know where to begin."

"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to say anything else," Trevor assured her. "Fortunately for you, as much as I despise self-delusion, I've decided that I can manage to put up with it for a little while, until something knocks some sense into you—because even if you won't say so yet, you're already showing me that I'm right, and that'll do for a while."

"Showing you?"

"Just let me remind you, princess: I might have carried you to the car, but you closed the door." Evelyn didn't say anything, and Trevor let the wind whip around them and emphasize her silence for a moment before continuing, sounding unbearably smug. "So, yeah. Go back and date that wuss from the café, if he'll give you another chance after he saw you actively defending the, ah, ex-boyfriend who was in the middle of kidnapping you. Fuck him, for all I care. It won't change the fact that when I come around, you're gonna drop him—and everything else."

All Evelyn could think to say in response to that was, "I don't think I've ever met a person as astoundingly full of himself as you are."

"Because I know the truth can hurt, I'm not gonna hold that comment against you," he said lightly.

Evelyn leaned her elbow against the window sill, rubbed her brow, and wished intently for a cigarette—but of course, since she only seemed to really want to smoke when Trevor was around, and because he'd shown up unexpectedly, she didn't have any on hand. For the first time since they'd started talking, she started to feel that old creeping stirring of fear—only this time, it was different. This time, she wasn't scared of him. At least, not directly. Rather, hearing him lay their situation out from his perspective, using that particular analogy… despite the fact that she'd called bullshit on reflex, for the first time, she was having trouble finding any logic or internal determination to really back that reflex up. Her internal voice, which she would always depend upon to provide her with a detailed list of why she was right and the other person was wrong, down to the bullet points, was notably silent in response to Trevor's assertions.

That fucking scared her.

Before she could really get going, Trevor's jarring voice interrupted her: "Evy? Are you doing that thing where you shut down and think way too fuckin' much? Come on, I picked you up for a reason. You don't start pulling your weight in the conversation, I'm gonna throw you out into traffic, I swear to God."

Even though she rolled her eyes, Evelyn couldn't help but feel a little bit grateful that he was distracting her from that train of thought. There would be time enough for that later (something told her Trevor had awoken a monster; there was no way she was going to be able to squash down these thoughts now that they'd been roused again), but for now, she decided to just focus on the ride.

A/N - Aaand we're back. Leave it to Trevor to take things from zero to sixty in seconds. Someone hit him for me, I can't deal with him right now.

But hey, we get to hang out with Mikey next chapter. Arguments! Shouting! Stress! Trevor throwing Evelyn under the bus because he's a piece of trash who thinks it's funny! It'll be a fun time for someone, I'm sure. In the meantime, feedback is encouraging as hell. Stay awesome. :)