i'm always iffy on my writing

anonymous asked:

Friendo, friend, buddy, got anything for midas!gta!gav? I need it like I need air-Bdoesshiphaus

Maaaaaan after seeing your writing i feel like you were asking for the emotionless killer, humanity extinguished by grief, fahchaus kind of Midas-persona but i gotta tell you i read this and still think of Midas!Gavin as Gavin with turn-shit-to-gold powers so i’m very sorry but that’s what you got:

Gavin has been wearing gloves from the moment Geoff first met him. It’s weird, and Geoff never believed the claims that he was always cold, but the way the kid cringes away from physical contact stopped Geoff from pressing. He figures Gavin has issues with touching people, or is excessively careful about fingerprints, or has some weird skin condition, and eventually just stops thinking about it.

As the FAHC grows each member goes through the same confusion-interest-acceptance cycle, and the closest Gavin gets to explaining himself is the one time he angrily pulls off his gloves and flails perfectly normal looking hands around for a moment after Michael spent all afternoon loudly theorising about how gross they must be. He storms off to his room, slamming the door, and by the time anyone notices the new golden handle on Gavin’s door weeks have passed and they all assume it’s just another addition to his ridiculous collection.

A collection that has only grown over time, Gavin’s apparent obsession with gold reaching everything from his jewellery to his sunglasses to the ridiculous finishings on his weapons and vehicles. It’s no real surprise when Gavin gains the moniker of Golden Boy, but it still seems to amuse him to no end.

They’ve been running Los Santos together for almost two years when the truth finally comes out, Gavin coming up behind some thug who had cornered Michael and Ryan, grabbing the back of his neck with a bare hand before the man could react. The change is almost instantaneous, gold rushing out from Gavin’s fingertips so quickly the man can’t even lower his gun before he is completely engulfed.

There’s a beat of silence, Michael and Ryan wide eyed and shellshocked, Gavin curling into himself as he struggled to get his glove back on, the man a cold, gold statue between them, and then their ride turns up, Jack hollering out the window as sirens blare in the distance. Ryan snaps out of it first, yelling at Michael to get Gavin in the fucking van as he rushes forward to grab the golden man and lug it with him.

The trip back the the penthouse is uncomfortable to say the least. Michael recounts the event at top speed, top volume, all flailing hands and incredulous swearing. Ryan’s dumped his mask and spends the trip going back and forth between examining the man and squinting curiously at Gavin, only jumping into Michael’s story when the other’s try to shut him down, and Gavin.. Gavin shoved himself into the back corner of the van, hands once again covered and shoved under his arms, glaring down at his own knees, refusing to answer anyone’s questions.

When they make it home Ryan thinks they’ll wait till they’re safely upstairs before they talk things through. This is the FAHC though; they have it out right there in the garage, loud and annoyed but mostly just really fucking confused – of all the possible reasons for Gavin’s gloves they weren’t expecting that. Between Geoff, Michael and eventually Gavin there is a lot of shouting, with Jack and Ryan torn between mediating and wanting their own questions answered, and Jeremy and Ray standing to the side, poking at the statue.

Gavin swings between defensive anger and senseless panic, terrified of what they’ll do now that they all know his secret, know that he’s dangerous, that he’d have to be worth a fortune to the right person. Which, honestly, just kicks off the shouting again because what a stupid idea. What a goddamn moron. As if Gavin wasn’t already dangerous, as if they weren’t all dangerous. As if they’d let anything under the sun take him from them let alone give him away.

So eventually Gavin settles down, tells them he’s always been like this, that he’s got some control over the power, that it requires some intention so he can actually hold something bare handed without changing it but it takes more concentration than he’s prepared to spend every moment of every day. He tells them that this wasn’t the first human he’s changed, not even the first he’s changed on purpose. That they don’t ever change back. Its a serious moment, quiet, Gavin clearly waiting for their judgement, most of the crew trying to work out how to explain that this is no different from every other way they kill, then Ray asks if Gavin’s ever changed a turd and as Gavin splutters in horror the moment passes.

Manoeuvring the statue into the elevator is no easy task, the man’s arms stretched forward as he aimed his gun, one leg back to brace himself, jacket flared from the wind; it’s quite the action pose, and the lads drag reluctant laughter out of Gavin as they do their best to mimic it on the way up to the penthouse.

What follows is a pretty fierce discussion about what exactly they should do with the statue. No one feels bad for the guy, they’d have happily shot him dead if they’d had the chance, but still the idea of melting him down seems a step too far. Ryan was pretty keen to chop him up and see if the change went all he way through but in the end Geoff decides that they’ll stick him in the lobby like a garish art piece. Because nothing says welcome to our home like a life-sized gun wielding man made out of solid gold. Ray want’s to call him Percival, Michael argues that he can’t have almost lost his life to someone called Percival, Gavin suggests Squidge Dinglebutt and in the end they somehow settle on George. 

Now that he doesn’t have to explain away their origin Gavin changes even more of his things, truly embodying his image as the Golden Boy, and the FAHC never have another problem scrounging up funds. Gavin still wears his gloves, and outside of the occasional joke mid-heist they’re all pretty good at keeping his power a secret, but if the occasional rumour regarding unbelievable feats and the Fake’s collection of impossibly realistic golden statues arises, well, George can always use more friends.