Summary: Michael stays late at work one night and suffers for it (because Michael can't catch a break) and Gob immediately(?) has to make sure he's okay!
Warning(s): Incest (duh, but it's just kissing), mild language
Disclaimer: None of these darling characters belong to me D: Or it would've been on HBO because I don't think you can show Bluthcest on Fox or something... which is sad
"That was George-Michael." Lindsay sat heavily, staring at the phone in her hands. "Michael's been injured."
Their mother paused, the glass of wine halfway to her lips. "Did he fall down the stairs? I told him those shoes of his were meant for elevators. But does he listen?" With a half-shrug, she tipped the wine back. "Of course not. None of you ever listen to me."
"Mom, he's in the hospital. Someone shot him."
"Someone shot who?" Gob sauntered in, looking pleased with himself. "Was it out of a cannon? Why didn't any of you tell me that someone was going to get shot out of a cannon?" He dropped onto the arm of a chair, shaking his head. "This is the worst family ever."
Maeby got to her feet. "We have to go to the hospital."
"Are you pregnant?" Gob demanded, shocked.
"No, Gob." His sister got to her feet, sighed gustily and made a point to stare dramatically into the middle distance. She'd seen it on television enough times that it was obviously what this situation called for. "Our dear brother was shot at work today."
"With... a water gun?" Gob was suddenly on edge, the hands he'd rested on his knees curling into tight fists.
"A gun-gun," was Lindsay's attempt at a dramatic reply.
Maeby looked at them all, threw up her hands, and walked out. Gob started to follow, but quickly doubled back. "I have to get something. Don't start the car yet!" he called as he headed for the stairs.
Not only did the Bluth family start the car, they drove off and left Gob behind. A fact Gob discovered when he walked out of the house in a billowing white shirt and overly tight black pants. "Come on!" he shouted and ran off to find his segway.
It was several hours before he made it to the hospital and, upon arriving, he discovered that visiting hours were over, his brother had made it through his surgery, and his family had gone home. Gob blew out a relieved breath, found out the room number from the secretary, and promised that he'd be back again the next day.
In the next moment, he was flying down the hall on his segway, laughing wildly at the startled medical practitioners as he passed. "You won't stop the great Gob from seeing his brother!" he called and threw down a small packet of something that exploded into smoke. It didn't mask the sound of him turning his segway around anymore than it hid his visage as he rounded a corner and dove into an elevator.
Still on his segway, he looked down at the little girl who just happened to be in there with him. "Hi," he greeted. "I'm here to see my younger brother. What are you here for?"
"My mom works here."
"Oh." He gave her a superior look just as the doors opened and he glided out backwards, his expression not changing. "I wonder which one of us is here for more important reasons." And then he was rounding a corner and disappeared from her sight.
Without running into any more trouble, Gob made it to Michael's room. He hopped off his segway and slammed the doors open, placed his hands on his hips and angled his head to the side. "I'm here, Michael."
When there was no immediate response, Gob panicked (internally and just a little bit) and turned his gaze sharply to the bed at the far wall. His brother was lying there, pale and with an IV jutting out from one arm. The machine monitoring his heart beat sent out a steady staccato rhythm, much to Gob's relief.
He took a few steps forward, sank down in the uncomfortable chair by Michael's bed. He then scooted the chair as close as humanly possibly and sat on the edge of it, gently running his fingers over his brother's face."Jesus, Michael," he whispered. "Let yourself get shot, huh?"
There was no response, so Gob started to poke at his brother. "Not awake?" Still no response. So Gob slowly leaned forward. "Michael," he whispered, lips a breath away from the unconscious man.
Michael stirred, a hand reaching up and cupping the back of Gob's neck. Fingers slowly stroked through Gob's short hair. His eyes didn't open, but Gob's breath still caught. He was awake now, obviously. "Michael?" he whispered again, this time questioning.
"Gob," came the breathy reply. "Remind me never to work so late again."
"Like you ever listen to me..." Gob felt rush of relief flood him and his breath actually hitched this time. He started to pull away immediately, but Michael's hand was still in his hair and his younger brother managed to keep him in place. It was the grimace the effort caused, rather than the actual effort, that had Gob stilling. And then those eyes fluttered open and Gob watched a small dot of water hit his cheek.
Michael smiled slowly. "You're not really crying after I'm fine, are you?"
"No." Another teardrop landed on his cheek. "Shut up, Michael."
"Make me," was the whispered reply and Michael angled his head in a way that made it obvious how he wanted Gob to go about it. Gob swallowed hard. It had to be the drugs... As many times that Gob had tried to engage Michael in a makeout session and now he was acquiescing? Demanding it even! It just had to be the drugs. "C'mon, Gob, some guy sneaks in on me at work and puts two slugs in my back and now you're gonna be all shy and stupid?"
"You were shot twice?" Gob demanded, voice a furious whisper. "What the hell?"
"Yeah... Yeah, I was. So just, y'know, get it over with."
Gob's smile was more of a leer. "Get what over with?"
"Don't make me say it," he muttered, eyes closing again. "It's embarrassing enough that I'm asking."
"Say it," Gob whispered, lips close enough to Michael's that their breaths mingled.
Annoyed, Michael lifted his other hand, winced slightly as the IV pulled, and placed it at the back of Gob's neck, pulling him that millimeter closer. Their lips touched, moved over one another fluidly with Michael's next words. "Fuck you, Gob."
"When you're out of the hospital," the older Bluth agreed and finally sank his lips onto Michael's, warm and wet and coaxing. Michael didn't need much encouragement, though, and was kissing back eagerly. It was his tongue that broke the barriers, pushed into Gob's mouth and swept over it. Gob moaned, hands fisting in the stark white sheets of the hospital bed. Michael tasted sharp and sweet and darkly forbidden and his tongue was relentless in the way it washed over Gob's, lapped at all the sensitive places until Gob was moaning again.
And then, entirely too soon, Michael ended it and came up for air. His hands fell away from Gob, folded loosely over his chest, and his mouth, lips swollen and pink, formed a little "o" for puffs of air to break through. "Go away," he said quietly, "before I do something stupid like ask you to stay. I'm tired."
Gob was quiet a moment, managed to get his chair even closer to the bed and laid his head on Michael's chest, just below his hands. "Sure, I'll stay."
"Gob..." Michael tried to complain, but a yawn interrupted him. Giving in seemed like the best thing to do, though, so he curled his fingers into his brother's shirt to make sure he did stay and drifted off. He was awakened hours later at the sound of Gob getting tossed out of his room and banned from the hospital. Without opening his eyes, Michael fell asleep again with a smile on his face. Idiot.