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Michael had never seen rain like this. It pelted against the windows of the restaurant he had spent the evening in with Gavin, causing such a racket in the conservatory area that waiters had to move diners out of there, the noise of the raindrops against the glass almost deafening. England really was a fucking stupid country. When they had walked the few blocks to what Gavin had assured him was the best restaurant in Oxfordshire, the sun had been blazing down, the late afternoon heat absolutely sweltering. About 10 minutes into their meal, the sky had clouded over and it had started pissing it down, just like that. How was it even possible for a country’s weather to be so fucking changeable? Michael honestly didn’t have a fucking clue.
Gavin was stood in the doorway, one hand on the door handle. The other was reaching out for one of Michael’s, slender fingers stretching out to entwine with the other man’s, swiftly running a thumb along his knuckles before throwing the door open and dragging him outside, the icy rain instantly soaking through their clothes, sticking their shirts to their freezing bodies.
“Gavin, what the fuck are you doing?” Michael screamed in protest, tripping over his own feet as his boyfriend towed him along, sprinting through the streets back to his home, where they had spent the past week. Michael had only come to England because he couldn’t bear to be without him for the month he was going to be away, visiting family and filming some Slow Mo Guys stuff with Dan. Next time, however, he thought he would have to find some way to cope. Britain really was completely moronic, with its stupid, indecisive weather – no wonder Gavin turned out the way he did.
Gavin just laughed, his long, fluffy hair flattened down against his face, drops of water rolling down his neck, small puddles collecting in the dips around his collarbones. He turned his face to the sky, giggling wildly, gripping on to Michael’s hand tighter. Michael couldn’t help but smile at how adorable and childlike Gavin appeared, skipping along as the rain beat down around them, not giving a damn about the weather. It was times like this, when Gavin was so relaxed, his guards completely down, that reminded Michael why he loved him so much. This was the side of Gavin that only Michael got to see, the side that pushed Michael over the edge and sent him spiralling down, falling deeper and deeper in love until he was drowning in it. At first, it hurt, as he tried desperately to fight it, but the moment he just accepted it, it was easy. Loving Gavin Free was easier than breathing, and so much clicked into place, it was like his entire life had been building up to this, leading him towards Gavin. He was made to love Gavin.
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“Jesus, Michael! You’re freezing!” Gavin cried out, cupping Michael’s freezing hands in his. The difference in temperature was almost painful, the heat so intense that it caused Michael to jump a little, before he sank into the warmth gratefully. He put up no protest when he was told to sit his ass down on the sofa, instead picking up the remote to flip through the channels, trying to choose something that looked half decent. The TV was even worse over here than it was back home, there was nothing but reruns of shows aired in America months ago, or shitty comedians prancing around on stage like utter twats. In the end, he settled for a show called Grand Designs, that sounded like some sort of Dickens shit. It turned out to be some show about people building houses, but fuck it – CSI was on after that anyway.
Gavin came back buried under a pile of blankets, which he dumped at the foot of the sofa, leaning against them and pulling Michael back against his bare chest. Both men had draped their sodden clothes over the radiator in the hallway, leaving them walking around in their slightly damp boxers. The heat from Gavin’s skin pressed up against his made Michael purr gently, the tiny noise of content rising up from his throat unintentionally. Gavin laughed quietly into Michael’s ear as his boyfriend shuffled backwards, pressing as much of his skin against Gavin’s as was humanly possible. He had never been able to be like this before, to have such complete trust in someone that just the feel of their skin could remove a bad mood, no matter how cold, wet and frustrated he was. The sound of his voice would pause the world around him, the feeling of his breath against the back of his neck made him feel so … whole. Gavin threw the fluffiest blanket of the lot over them, trapping the heat in and engulfing Michael in the delicious scent that was rolling off of his boyfriend, the smell that no cologne could ever match.
He sighed lightly, running his fingertips over the arm Gavin was resting on his waist as the opening sequence of CSI:New York ran. Neither of the men noticed, though. They both had their eyes closed, listening to the other breathe, trying to slow their hearts so they beat. A few murmured conversations floated in the air for a few minutes, but no one really had to say anything. They could feel what the other one had to tell them, words weren’t necessary. They could look into each other’s eyes and read the thoughts as if they were written on a page. The silence they sat in was comfortable, gentle, and undisturbed, the flow of time meaning absolutely nothing to them. The world around them had frozen in place, and they had all the time in the world to be together. To take it slow. To feel like this. To be complete. Slowly, the intoxicating warmth took a firm hold and Michael felt himself slipping into sleep, like he was slipping into a pool, and as the water closed over his head he felt Gavin lean down and plant a kiss on his forehead, the reassuring arm wrapping tighter around Michael’s waist, letting him know that he was there, and that he had got him.
Michael smiled through his sleep all night.