[RL with Zechs | Backdated to 22nd]

[bare_my_fangs]

Michael was royally pissed. It had just been one thing after another for the past week - "Oh, by the way? We decided not to chip you." - and then to top it all off, this goddamn virus had to happen. He was in a bad mood already when some idiot thought they could pretend to be his brother, so this whole thing with Zechs was the last fucking straw that broke the camel's back.

The journey there had been made in silence - and he still couldn't believe he was stuck using that rat bastard for a worldhop - as he was fuming over the fact that he had to have a chaperone, because he wasn't trustworthy and-- Michael cut that thought off before he destroyed something else.

He was extremely grateful when Nena offered to wait outside Zechs' apartment, happy that, when it came to her, he really didn't need to explain himself.

Scowling to himself - Zechs had better be in his apartment - he picked the locks (fuck, Zechs was one paranoid bastard) and let himself inside.

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[thricedeadwind.livejournal.com]

Zechs wasn't used to being so easily bested, either. Yet these last two - well, the word 'fight' wasn't worth these hastily-planned brawls - Michael had come out on top. It didn't matter that he was mentally wiped from his brain's memories of a three-year ZERO addiction last time. Or that he was pretty damned inebriated this time. The pride within Zechs still raged like a wounded cougar.

Someone far less dignified than he would have spit at his opponent. Instead, he kept firm, vice-like grip on Michael's arms. It meant he couldn't really concentrate on squirming out from under the boy - but he didn't very much fancy getting punched in he face again. However ...

Well, with his grip on Michael's hands but the boy sitting on top of him, they were kind of at a stalemate. Zechs thought of it that way, of course, rather than perhaps that Michael had more or less won, since it was himself who was bleeding and pinned to the ground.

"Well," Zechs stated, licking blood away from his lips.

[bare-my-fangs.livejournal.com]

Michael struggled a bit more to get his hands free, his rage having not yet run itself dry. Realising that, despite being him being completely drunk, Zechs had a damn good grip on his hands, Michael stopped.

Then, without warning, he leaned forward and headbutted Zechs, taking advantage of the confusion to free his hands and use them to pin Zechs' own to the floor.

"'Well' indeed," he said, still grinning. "You wanna go again? Or are you ready to stop being stupid?" He laughed. "Please say you wanna go again."