Chapter Text
Michael watched as his son, George Michael, descended the steps. The sound of thunder rumbled in the distance and Michael sighed.
“Hey, pal,” Michael said, patting George Michael’s shoulder as he passed by him. “Guess we’ll have to cancel our plans, huh?”
“Ah, it’s alright, dad. It’s not like you knew there was gonna be a hurricane,” George Michael said with a timid smile, looking away from the fridge for a moment. “But our bikes’ll still be there for next time.”
“Of course, of course,” Michael said, sighing. “I just don’t know when next time’ll be with everything going on at work. Ugh, I’m sorry things have been so busy.”
“Really, it’s fine,” George Michael replied. “Plus, just cause there’s a storm doesn’t mean we can’t do something else! Maybe we can play a board game or watch a movie or something. We can even get the whole family in on it too, especially since Aunt Lindsay, Uncle Tobias and Maeby are visiting.”
Michael grimaced.
“Let’s just keep it between us, okay? We have more than enough family time and not enough father-son time.”
“Tell me why I came all this way again?” Lindsay snarked as she entered the kitchen.
“Ah, Linds, I- I promise- It’s really got more to do with just wanting to spend time with my son than not wanting to spend time with you guys.”
“No, it’s fine,” Lindsay sighed, making her way over to the fridge, just standing there and staring into it blankly. “I get it. Plus,” she said, lowering her voice, “if you included us, G-O-B would insist on being included too.”
“Well, I didn’t wanna say anything but-”
George Michael didn’t look up from the bowl as he poured his cereal. It always made him uncomfortable when his family talked about each other like that.
They all resumed their previous tasks, Michael grabbing his piece of toast from the toaster and taking a seat next to George Michael at the counter. Lindsay closed the fridge, holding a small yogurt. She grabbed a spoon and leaned up against the island, facing her brother and nephew.
“So,” Lindsay began after swallowing a spoonful of yogurt. “I’m working on starting up a fundraiser to help save the rainforest-”
“The rainforest? I thought you were working on a project for helping the homeless?”
“Yes, but the rainforest is dying , Michael,” she said, sticking another spoonful in her mouth. “Last time I checked, the homeless people are all alive and well.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’d say they’re alive and well… ”
“Plus, the organization I’d partnered with was expecting me to go into some of the communities and that is not great for optics. Especially with the outfit I’d picked out. I’d hate to ruin it.”
“There it is,” Michael sighed. “So you’re not helping the homeless cause you might get your outfit dirty?”
Lindsay rolled her eyes.
“Well, don’t put it like that .”
“ You put it like that.”
“Listen, Michael, I’ve finally lost enough weight to look good in the dress. I’m not gonna put in all that work just to ruin my outfit.”
“Linds, maybe instead of working to lose weight that you don’t even need to lose, you could put that energy towards the issues you claim to care about.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious, Linds. If you really care about these issues, then put your money where your mouth is.”
“If you’re suggesting I eat more, trust me, I eat plenty.”
“What?” Michael said, narrowing his eyes. “No, I meant- You should put in the effort instead of focusing on ‘optics’ so much. What matters is your actions, not your looks.”
“Michael, I- I know, okay?” Lindsay said, leaning up against the counter. “But…It’s not like I have much to offer otherwise…”
Michael furrowed his brow and turned fully to face her.
“Oh, come on, Linds, you aren’t- You aren’t brainless .”
Lindsay just turned and gave him a look.
“Okay, maybe you aren’t the most well rounded person in terms of- of knowing things but maybe you’d have some brains if you actually put some effort in.”
“I do put effort in!”
“Where?”
She gave him a look and sighed.
“Well, I have put effort in at times…It’s just never worked.”
“Well, maybe you just weren’t putting enough effort in,” he said and when Lindsay glared at him, he quickly continued. “Cause I know you’re capable, Linds. You’re smart.”
“Well, now I’m starting to think you don’t actually have brains either if you believe that,” she joked lightly.
“You’re smart,” Michael said flatly. “You just have to…apply yourself.”
“The college I dropped out of would claim otherwise.”
“Hey, I dropped out of college too,” Michael said.
“Yeah, to take care of your son. I stopped because I couldn’t keep up with the workload or understand half the crap they were talking about. This,” she said, gesturing to herself. “Is my only valuable asset.”
“Well…at least you tried, right?” George Michael offered.
“Do or do not, there is no try, George Michael, but yes, yes, of course. At least…you tried,” Michael said, feigning encouragement, which Lindsay made it clear she saw right through. “Hey, you can’t say the same for everyone. Some people don’t put in any effort and just end up slacking off their entire life, never getting a real job and couch hopping till the day they die.”
“You know, I can hear you, Michael,” Gob’s voice called out from the other room. “And we get it, you got the loud cum award in high school, you’re so smart.”
Lindsay gave Michael a look.
“I didn’t know,” Michael mouthed, craning his neck to see his brother, who was lying on the living room couch. “It’s called summa cum laude, Gob, not…” He wrinkled his nose. “Whatever you said.”
“In English, please?” Gob said exhaustedly.
“I…I don’t know the exact translation but-”
“Oh, well wouldja look at that. Mr. Smarty-Pants over here doesn’t even know the translation for his stupid, dumb, smart award.”
“Great choice of adjectives, Gob,” Michael sighed. “And yeah, it’s a real shame I don’t speak Latin .”
“Uh, I believe it’s called Spanish.”
“Yeah, even I know that,” Lindsay said.
Michael sighed frustratedly and walked over to the room. His older brother was laying on the couch, splayed out across it like a rag doll.
“So how’s the job search going,” Michael needled, tapping impatiently on the doorway. “Found anything yet?”
Gob’s amused expression turned sour and he shook his head.
“Not even a good morning?” he scoffed. “No, Michael, I haven’t. I have no job other than my current job, which is being a magician. But you’ve made it clear that you don’t care about that…” he said dejectedly.
Michael sighed and begrudgingly made his way over to his mopey older brother. George Michael followed close behind, timidly as always. Gob’s gaze was fixated on the loose thread in the carpet he was mindlessly picking at.
“Gob, you know I care about your…passion. But it’s just not a stable or sufficient source of money and you haven’t been getting anywhere in terms of notoriety so I think you need to start looking for a job- and don’t say the Hot Cops, I mean a normal, actual job. That doesn’t mean you can’t be a magician too but you need to be able to rely on yourself for money and housing…And again, we’re talking real jobs.”
Gob closed his mouth and pouted, grumbling something about how it was a real job and that Michael was a square.
“So you care about my magic career, huh?” Gob asked after a moment.
“Yeah, Gob,” Michael lied. “I do.”
“Then why didn’t you come to see me at the open mic last night?” Gob said, making eye contact with Michael for the first time since the conversation started. “No one else came either…You all missed the illusion I dedicated to you guys.”
Gob had begun to get a little teary by the end and Michael knew he had to shut things down fast before they escalated any further.
“Sorry for missing your show, Uncle Gob,” George Michael said sincerely and a hint of a weary smile twitched on Gob’s lips.
“Oh, shoot, I totally forgot about that, Gob,” Michael said, and he actually had, not that he was really that torn up about it, though. “Dad needed me to stay late at work and it genuinely slipped my mind.”
“Yeah, yeah, rub it in,” Gob said. “Tell me all about how Dad actually likes having you around, pshh. What a brother you are. And thank you, George Michael, for being able to apologize without bragging.”
“What? I wasn’t trying to- We were at work, Gob, it’s not like we were having fun and hanging out.”
In fact, it was quite the opposite. Things were stressful, like always, at the Bluth Company and Michael was facing the brunt of it, the pressure from his father turned up to 11. It was becoming harder and harder to appease his demands and that meant Michael having to work overtime just to get a thumbs up.
“And George Michael,” Michael continued, lowering his voice as he turned to his son, a gentler expression on his face. “Just stay out of this, okay? You don’t need to get yourself involved.”
“But I- Okay…” George Michael said, staring down at his feet.
“Anyway, Gob, we were just doing work.”
“So was I,” Gob said. “How on Earth am I gonna get my name out there and be a- and be a famous magician if I don’t have any support?”
“Well, if you’re not getting any support, then maybe that’s a sign that you’re not very, uh…good.”
Gob looked between screaming at Michael and profusely sobbing.
“I’m- I’m good at magic, Michael,” he spat. “Which you’d know if you went to my shows…At least dad was with you. He can’t even— He can’t even stand to b- be around me,” he said, trailing off for a moment, getting a faraway look in his eyes before directing them back at his brother. “You know, I thought you were better than this, Michael, but I guess I was wrong. You’re just as selfish as ever. Typical, selfish, heartless Michael.”
Michael stood up from where he’d knelt beside Gob, his face now in an unamused frown.
“Selfish, huh? Heartless? Gob, if there’s anyone here who’s heartless, it’s you. All you do is take advantage of people’s kindness and- and generosity until they catch on and dump you out on the street. You’re lucky I’ve had the patience to not do that yet.”
Gob scoffed. “Threatening to throw me out, and in a hurricane no less…Sounds pretty heartless to me…Robot,” he sneered.
“Yeah, cause I’m the robot, right? I’m the cold, heartless robot, not you who doesn’t care about anyone or how your actions affect them.”
“I- I am not a robot!” Gob said incredulously, the tears that had been budding in his eyes finally streaming down his face. “I feel! I care!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt you feel, Gob. That’s abundantly clear,” he said, condescendingly looking his brother up and down. “But care? You care about people?”
Gob nodded slightly.
“Huh…Cause from what I’ve seen, your actions tell a different story.”
“I told you about the illusion I was gonna dedicate to you guys, didn’t I?”
Michael shook his head. “I mean real selfless actions, Gob. Doing stuff that isn’t just you repackaging one your interests with the words ‘to xyz, from Gob’.”
Gob’s face fell.
“Do you not like the gifts I’ve made you?” he said, looking genuinely hurt.
Michael sighed.
“Gob, I- I appreciate the gifts, but what I would really appreciate is if you put in any amount of effort at all.”
“I do! I put lots of effort into the gifts!”
“I’m not talking about the gifts! I’m talking about putting effort into your life! You’ve never had a stable job, home, a long term girlfriend and that’s because you never do anything to keep them. You never try and you’re constantly falling apart at the seams because of that and I’m the one stuck having to always pick up the pieces! I care. You…I’m not so sure.”
Gob just stared with watery eyes, his lip quivering as he sniffled. After a second, he readjusted his position to sit upright and began reaching out but Michael took a step back.
“Nope, no hugs right now. I’m not in the mood.”
Gob wilted and with a sulk, dejectedly flopped back onto the couch
“If you want people to actually support you, maybe try finding it within yourself to be a nicer person more often. But I dunno, according to you, robots can’t feel so…Maybe that’s a lost cause,” Michael said, turning to walk away. “Come on, George Michael.”
“Well, you’d- you’d have to- to— to be- to- Ugh!” was all Gob choked out before giving up in a huff and sulking angrily. As they walked away, George Michael looked over his shoulder and gave a small wave and when Gob noticed, he halfheartedly waved back.
The two returned to the kitchen, and Michael could see Lindsay sitting at the table, drinking a mug of tea when suddenly-
“Hey, brother!“
“AH- Oh, uh, Buster, hey. You gotta- You gotta stop sneaking up on people like that.”
“You can always tell a Milford man,” Lindsay muttered from the table.
“Hey, Uncle Buster,” George Michael waved, looking a little startled himself.
“Sorry, brother. Hey, nephew. I didn’t mean to scare you guys. Although, it was worth the look on your face. It was pre-tty funny,” he said with a sly grin. “You both were like ‘Ahhhh’,” he said, making small gestures of panic before giggling.
“Priceless!” Gob laughed from the other room.
“Shut up, Gob!” Michael shouted back tiredly. Buster peered over at Gob himself.
“You guys had quite a spat, huh?”
“He’ll get over it. By the sounds of it, he already has,” Michael muttered. “Anyway, so, uh, what are you doing here, Busty? Where’s Mom?”
“Well, we had a bit of a fight and she kicked me out for the day.”
“Oh, I see, I see.”
“Said she didn’t care if I got swept up in the hurricane and died.”
“Yep, sounds like mom.”
“Anyway, I’m here now since I don’t have anywhere else to take refuge.”
Michael sighed. “Yeah, sure, buddy. That’s fine. Are you gonna be staying the night then, or…Cause I don’t know where you’ll sleep since Lindsay and her family are using the guest room for the moment and Gob sleeps on the couch.”
“I could always sleep in bed with you,” Buster said. “I mean, I’m gonna be spending the day with you anyhow.”
Michael paused. “…You’re…Wait, what’s happening?”
“Well, it’s not like I can spend the day alone in a hurricane,” he said, deadly serious, almost offended at Michael’s ignorance to that fact. “What if a tree falls on me and there’s no one around to help me in time? And I don’t have anything to soothe my nerves since I forgot my anxiety meds at home. I usually have them on me but I’ve had to hide them ever since Mom picked up a pesky habit of slipping them into my food whenever I’m being fussy,” he laughed, looking amused in spite of what he’d said. “But anyway, I need you to protect me, like Mom does.”
“Come on, buddy, you can’t…muster up some courage?” Michael said, trying to sound encouraging.
Buster hummed uneasily.
“Okay, then maybe instead of me, you can hang around Linds-“
“I’m busy.”
“- Gob today…How about that? He’s definitely not busy, I can tell you that.”
“I dunno,” Buster said, lowering his voice and rubbing his arm self consciously. “He always makes fun of my fear of extreme weather.”
Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise and taking a deep breath before rushing out, “Fine, fine, sure. Whatever, you can hang around me.”
“Thank you, brother. This means a lot to me,” Buster said, putting his hands on Michael’s shoulders and squeezing them.
“Don’t wanna massage, buddy,” Michael said, worming out of his grasp.
“Oh, sorry,” Buster said, taking a step back.
“It’s fine.”
Suddenly, Michael felt his back pocket buzz and he sighed again as he took out his phone.
“I’ll be right back,” Michael said, heading towards the door of the home and sighing as he heard the start of George Michael inviting Buster to help him pick out a movie. It was…sweet of him but, god, he didn’t get why George Michael was so interested in hanging out with the rest of his family.
He massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling the signs of an incoming headache. Hopefully, some fresh air would clear his head.
Unfortunately, the air was hot and humid, and that alongside the gray, looming clouds in the sky didn’t do much to help it. But at least the world outside his house provided him some sort of sanctuary from his family.
“Hello, this is Michael Bluth,” Michael said as he answered the call, leaning up against the wall, wind gently rustling his hair.
“Michael, this is your mother.”
So much for sanctuary.
“Mom, hello, what do you need?” he said, shifting his position a little.
“Is Buster with you?” Her voice, although largely stern and uncaring, had a twinge of worry.
“He is, mom. He told me you two had a fight.”
Lucille sighed. “I just needed a break from him,” she said boredly. “He’s just nauseatingly needy sometimes and it was becoming too much. I had to kick him out for a bit. I swear, if I spent one more minute with him, I might’ve just thrown myself off the balcony and gotten swept up in the hurricane and died myself.”
“Right but, Mother, surely you could’ve waited until after the storm to do this.”
“Oh, I would’ve, Michael, if under any other conditions but he just wouldn’t stop playing with that insipid rainstick of his. What else was I to do?”
“If you’re so bothered by him, maybe you could try actually sending him out in the world to find his own independence for once.”
“Are you crazy? He’s practically a child!”
“He’s 29, Mom-”
“What?” Lucille shouted, her voice sounding far away. A few seconds of silence. “Ugh, I’ll have to let you go Michael,” she said, turning back to the speaker. “Your father needs to use the line. Just make sure Buster knows I don’t care if he gets swept up in the hurricane and-”
Beep.
Michael sighed and went to put his phone back in his pocket but he’d barely gotten it away from his ear before it started ringing again. Goddammit.
“Please be a wrong number, for the love of God,” he grumbled as he picked up the new line. “Hello, this is Michael Bluth.”
“Michael, are you busy?”
God dammit …Wait-
“Dad? I thought-…Nevermind, uh, that depends on what you classify as busy. What do you need?”
“Well, as you know, you haven’t quite been reaching the standards I’ve set for you-”
“Yes, yes, I know, Dad, I’m trying, I promise.”
“Of course- of course you are, Michael, I know that. I just need you to, uh, try harder. Cause, ya know, we’ve got all these deadlines for the new housing tract coming up and-”
“No, I know, I know. I promise, I’ll get right to work on Monday and-”
“Actually, that’s what I wanted to call about. I was wondering if you could get some work in this weekend, that way you have it done by Monday.”
“This weekend?” Michael said. “I mean, I- I’d do it any other weekend but I was gonna spend the day with my son and I’m having to deal with Gob and Lindsay and Buster on top of that, and I- I don’t know if I have the time. Plus, all my stuff is at the office.”
“Then you better hurry,” George said. “Get there and back before the hurricane really kicks in. We don’t want you getting swept up and dying in it.”
“But- I-” Michael trailed off, sighing. “Sure, yes, I’ll be right on it, dad. I’ll have everything done by Monday.”
“You know, this is why you’re my favorite son, Michael,” George said. “You’re hard working and always willing to do anything for me- for family. You’re a real Bluth.”
Michael couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Thanks, dad. Yeah, I’ll get right on it.”
And with that, his dad hung up and along with it went Michael’s smile, replaced once again with an expression heavy with responsibility. He looked up at the sky and found himself yearning for a presence who’s absence he’d felt from the second she was gone; a painful, raw, throbbing hole left in his heart. It’s how he found himself living at one of the company’s crappy homes instead of the actual home she and Michael had spent years saving up for. It’s how he found himself working overtime and piling on far more than he could handle, but handling it anyway. It’s how he found his relationship with his siblings falling apart just as it seemed that they might finally be starting to understand each other.
And maybe there was a way to get back to that, a time where trouble hardly stood a chance and Michael, for once in life, was starting to feel happy; an emotion he realized he’d, up until then, never truly be acquainted with. But he had no idea where to even start, not without her to guide him, and his future with his family, the family she’d seen so much light in, was looking almost as dark and dreary as the sky above him.
“Dad?” a small voice piped up. Michael turned around to see George Michael standing in the doorway. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright. Something came up at work, though. Pop pop called and I don’t think we’ll, uh…I think we are gonna have to push our father-son time to another week,” Michael said with a sigh. “Sorry bud.”
”It’s alright,” George Michael said, a little disappointed. “Anyway, um, I think you should probably get insi-“
“You know, George Michael,” Michael interrupted. “I’m just sick of this family.”
“Oh…”
“Day after day after day, they pile their- their selfish needs all over me and just expect me to take care of them like they’re children! They’re full grown adults, George Michael! They should be able to take care of themselves!”
“Yeah, but-“
“I just wish I could get away from it all. Away from all of them, you know? And things could go back to the way they used to be; just you and me…” Michael ruffled George Michael’s hair and he felt his chest grow heavier. He shook his head. “A place where we can finally be a real family again, one that actually cares about each other.”
“Um, yeah, Dad, that sounds nice. But we really should get insi-“
“You think there’s a place like that, George Michael? There must be!…What do you think, pal?”
“Uh…” George Michael said, thinking to himself. “I mean, Pennsylvania’s pretty-”
“Arizona always seemed nice to me. And it’s great cause it’s not even that long of a drive!”
“Ari-Arizona, right, yeah…That’s where I- Mhmm…”
“It’s far, far away from all this…all this selfishness,” Michael said wistfully, staring off into the distance. A gust of wind blew strongly and George Michael, the small child that he was, did his best to keep his balance. Even Michael found himself planting his feet firmer on the ground. “Away from being needed all the time— You know I hate that, George Michael. Being needed all the time.”
“Yeah,” George Michael said, a look of concern on his face.
“Yeah,” Michael said dreamily.
Somewhere over the state line
Just out east
There’s a state that I heard of
Where one can feel complete
Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where my family’s far behind me
Where people won’t just talk about
Needing cash, favors, bailing out
That’s where you’ll find me
Somewhere over the state line
People drive
And stay over the state line
Why oh why can’t I?
“Dad, it’s getting pretty windy out here…Dad?”
”You know, George Michael,” Michael said, his head above the clouds. “I was gonna head out to the office but why go there when there’s a place like Arizona?”
“So are we gonna go inside then or-“
“No, did you not hear me?” Michael said, acknowledging what his son said for the first time the entire conversation. “We’re going to Arizona. Then maybe this family will start appreciating how much I do for them.”
George Michael blinked.
“Wh-what? Right- right now? ”
“You heard me,” Michael said, patting his son on the back with a smile. “You better go pack your bags quick cause I wanna head out A-S-A-P.”
“But Dad, there’s a hurricane! I don’t wanna get swept up in it and die!”
“You’re not gonna get-” Michael paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “We’re gonna be fine. Plus, we’re driving away from it so I doubt we’ll run into any trouble.”
“But also, shouldn’t we maybe plan?” George Michael said, following his dad inside. “If we wanna go and stay , maybe planning would help-“
“No time for planning, George Michael,” Michael said as he began to climb the stairs.
“Planning for what?” Lindsay asked, approaching the stairs herself.
“We’re going to Arizona,” Michael said simply.
“You’re leaving?” Buster said, a little panicked as he scurried closer.
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now,” Michael said exasperatedly, beginning to climb the stairs, George Michael hesitantly trailing behind.
“Wait, you’re heading to Arizona, Mikey?” Gob said as he too gathered around the staircase, sounding confused and a little concerned. “That doesn’t exactly sound safe to do right now…”
“Gob, you of all people do not get to tell me what is and isn’t safe.”
“Would hearing me say it’s not safe help, cause it really isn’t safe to be out there,” Lindsay said, hands on her hips. “You don’t want to get swept up in the hurricane and die.”
“Yeah,” Buster said. “Plus, you promised you’d make sure I was safe.”
“You have two siblings right there who can help you with that, Buster. That is, if they can think of someone other than themselves for once.”
“Michael!” Lindsay spat.
“Ah-”
“Typical…”
“Come on, George Michael,” Michael said, waving his son along and ignoring his siblings’ tutting.
George Michael just watched pitifully as his dad climbed the stairs, giving his aunt and uncles one last look before reluctantly heading to his room.
…
“So wait, you guys are leaving? Is he not worried you guys might get swept up in the hurricane and die?”
“That’s exactly what I tried telling him! But he’s…He’s not always the best at listening.”
“I know the feeling,” Maeby sighed, flopping onto the floor. George Michael sighed as he began digging through his drawers. “That’s so weird that he’s just…moving you guys out there so suddenly.”
“Well, this isn’t the first time he’s tried this,” George Michael informed casually. “But I don’t think we’ve ever even made it into the state. Honestly, the only reason I bother packing at this point is to make him feel better,” he said.
“That’s so weird,” Maeby said, raising her eyebrows. “I’d always gotten the impression that he was the normal one in the family.”
“I mean, he’s pretty unspontaneous otherwise so at least comparatively, that’s true. As an unspontaneous person myself, I’m not a fan of when he gets like this but thankfully, it’s about as erratic as he gets. It usually lasts at most 30 minutes and has yet to happen more than once a year, if that, so I don’t stress out too much. Once he’s set on Arizona, there’s not really anything I can do to change his mind so I kind of just have to go along with what he tells me.”
“Why don’t you just tell him no?”
“Well, like I said, once he has his mind set on it, there’s nothing you can really do.”
“What have you tried?”
“…Um…Telling him it’s a bad idea?”
“Well, okay, then obviously he’s gonna keep doing this over and over then. You say he’s bad at listening so if you’re just telling him it’s a bad idea, it’s gonna go in one ear and out the other like everything else. Throw a tantrum, refuse to leave your room, don’t pack your stuff. Adults are oblivious a lot and sometimes you need a bright flashing sign just to get them to remember to order dinner.”
“…Is that a common experience?”
“Is it not?”
“I don’t think so…?”
“Oh…” Maeby says, her demeanor faltering for a brief second. “Well, my point still stands.”
“I- Yeah, but I don’t know, I’m not much of a tantrum person.”
“I gave you two other examples, George Michael, and there are infinite other ways too.”
“…I guess.”
“I, uh, appreciate the offer, Tobias, but I’d really rather you not ‘peer into my annal ca- Nope, I am not repeating that…I’m not interested in discussing anything, okay?”
The two of them turned at the muffled sound of Michael’s voice coming from just outside the door, and he walked in a moment later. Maeby turned to George Michael and gave him a look and he returned it with one akin to seasickness.
“Hey, pal, you almost done with packing?”
“I’m getting there,” he laughed through a grimace.
Maeby raised her eyebrows and subtly nodded over at her uncle. George Michael sucked in a shallow breath.
“Great. Just let me know- Oh,” Michael trailed off as his vision lowered to match where George Michael had promptly sat down. “Well, like I was saying, just let-”
“I think George Michael has something to say,” Maeby interrupted, looking over at him expectantly.
Michael looked over to George Michael, who just sat there silently staring back. Michael furrowed his brow.
“…You alright, pal?”
“Mhmm,” George Michael said. “I just…”
Maeby waved him on.
“…am so excited for Arizona,” he said, giving an apologetic look to Maeby, who slapped her forehead.
“No you aren’t! Uncle Michael-”
“Maeby, don’t-”
“He doesn’t wanna go. That’s what he was trying to say.”
Michael furrowed his brow before suddenly breaking into a smile and chuckling, much to Maeby’s confusion.
“You two are a bunch of jokers, huh,” he said with a laugh, ruffling both of their hair, which George Michael didn’t even react to, looking almost like he was short circuiting. “Finish up soon, bud, alright? Don’t have so much fun that you forget about the task at hand.”
With that, Michael left the room and Maeby was left, staring at the door in disbelief.
“Jesus, he might be worse than my dad.”
“Told you,” George Michael murmured.
Not long after, George Michael finished up his packing and met his dad out in the hallway.
“You ready, son?”
George Michael looked at the ground nervously and Michael watched him thoughtfully before kneeling down and putting a hand on his shoulder.
“If you’re worried about the hurricane, George Michael, we’ll be fine, I promise. The news always exaggerates this kinda stuff to get more people watching.” George Michael’s expression didn’t change. “I’m telling you, buddy, there’s nothing to worry about.”
George Michael opened his mouth to speak, hesitating for a second. It was then Maeby left the room, elbowing him as she passed by to get his attention.
Walking backwards, she mouthed “Last chance,” and shrugged before turning back around and heading downstairs. George Michael sighed.
“I know you’re excited to go to Arizona, dad-“
“I am! I’m very excited,” he said standing up. “This is a new start for us.”
“…You promise? This time’s really gonna be a new start?”
“Of course! We’re gonna show this family what they’re missing, eh, bud?” Michael said with a smile, heading down the stairs himself.
“Right…”
“Okay, we’re leaving now!” Michael announced. “Hittin’ the road, never comin’ back- Come on, George Michael.”
“See you in an hour,” Lindsay said boredly. “Ya know, cause you always come back.”
“I’m not coming back. Not this time. I’m heading out for good and you guys are gonna have to get used to me not being around anymore.”
“Right, cause you’re gonna get swept up and die in the hurricane,” Gob muttered.
“I- I’m not gonna— get swept up and die in the hurricane!” Michael said angrily. “Everyone stop- stop saying that,” he said, pulling George Michael with him out the door.
“Bye guys,” George Michael said.
“See you soon,” the chorus of siblings voices called out.
“See you soon.”
“Nope, not soon. Not soon, George Michael,” Michael said, beginning to pile the luggage in the car as quickly as he could so they wouldn’t get wet, but the rain had begun pelting furiously in the time they’d gone to pack their bags, making that impossible. “Gotta remember to leave off the ‘soon’.”
“Right, right, sorry, Dad,” George Michael said as he hurriedly piled in the front seat, buckling in. Michael soon joined him.
“No, it’s fine, George Michael. Just…remember next time.”
“…Next time?” George Michael asked, furrowing his brow.
“Hmm? Oh- Slip of the- Not next time, cause there won’t be a next time. Cause we’re not coming back.”
“…Okay.”
About 15 minutes passed before Michael’s cell phone rang.
“Hello, this is Michael Bluth,” he said, wincing at a particularly strong gust of wind.
“Michael! Did you get your stuff at the office yet?”
“No, actually, I didn’t,” he said frankly.
“Are you still on your way? I told you you gotta leave soon unless-”
“I’m not on my way, Dad. I’m leaving. For good.”
He heard a sigh from over the phone.
“God, not this- Arizona junk again…So what, you’re gonna leave only to come back, pushing back the progress you could be making on work by an hour or so? You know what I taught you, Michael, every second counts.”
“Yeah, you also taught me there’s no time like the present, which is why I’m leaving right now.”
His dad just laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Don’t kid yourself, Michael, we all know you’re gonna come back. And come on, even if you did somehow manage to leave and stay gone, what’s waiting for you in Arizona?”
“Well…”
“Nothing! This won’t make you happy!”
“I mean, I think-”
“Helping the family! That’s what makes you happy! It’s what you’re good at! We’ve got to- What do I always say?”
“We’ve got to stick together, I know, but…I’ve had enough, dad.”
“Michael, please,” George whined. “I really need those ideas drawn up in time- the investors are getting antsy- You can’t- You’re not just gonna leave us here without someone in a position as integral to our operation as yours!”
“Well, you’ll just have to find someone else to do my job for me. Not like what I ever did satisfied you so you can go find someone to do the job the way you want.”
“Oh, come on, Michael, where’d you get that idea from? You’re a valuable and trusted employee! And I mean, you haven’t even given us a two week warning, and with all that’s going on right now…what if the company sinks! Think about your siblings, what are they gonna do? They’re not gonna be able to survive without the company’s money to support them- We need you!”
George Michael had been listening in on the conversation, waiting to hear those fateful words. He may be 12 and not know a lot about the world but he’d left with his dad for Arizona enough times to know the process by heart. And he knew what the words “we need you” meant.
“…Fine, I’ll do it, you’re right,” Michael sighed. “I need to support you guys. I need to be there for the family. I’ll go to the office now.”
George Michael furrowed his brow, looking between outside and his dad.
“Great, and have everything done by Monday.”
“By Monday, yup, will do.”
Michael hung up and put down the phone before turning to George Michael the way he’d done so many times.
“Welp, it looks like we’re staying after all, pal,” Michael said, patting George Michael’s shoulder. “You know, this family needs me and I have to be there for them. I have to make sure we stick together, all of us.”
“If that’s what you want,” George Michael said.
“It is what I want,” Michael said firmly. This is…what I want.”
An uncomfortable silence followed and Michael switched on the radio.
The wild dogs cry out in the night
As they grow restless, longing for some solitary company
With a sigh, he took in his surroundings. Without his Arizona tinted glasses, he was finally beginning to realize it might not have been such a good idea to go out in a hurricane. The palm trees swayed violently, leaves being torn from the tuft. Litter danced down the road like tumbleweeds. Rain battered their windshield so hard he was afraid it might break.
“Dad?” George Michael said, Michael flinching as he was brought out of his thoughts.
“Hm? Oh, uh, yes?”
“…Family is the most important thing…right?”
“Well, I mean, yeah, George Michael,” Michael laughed, a little confused. “I mean, I’m sticking around cause they’re important to me.”
George Michael nodded.
“Why do you ask?”
“I…” George Michael hesitated. “It’s just, whenever we all get together, 99% of the time everyone just argues and it…We always talk about sticking together but it…it doesn’t feel like we’re sticking together.”
“Yeah, more like we’re stuck together,” Michael joked, elbowing his son playfully.
“Right,” George Michael halfheartedly laughed. “But…”
“Hm?”
“But then why do we say that, if it’s not true? Why don’t we just…actually stick together?”
Michael sighed.
“Our family,” Michael began carefully, “is a little different than most families. They’re all…They’re imperfect people who…I’m not sure can…”
Michael trailed off.
“Develop?”
“I was gonna say change but yeah, I guess that works.”
He took a deep breath.
“So sometimes, you just have to say things to make hard truths like that easier to accept.”
“But is that really true?”
Michael opened his mouth to respond but a particularly loud gust of wind interrupted his train of thought.
“Okay, woah there,” he said, laughing nervously as he felt the car drift a little on the slick streets, which were entirely empty apart from their car. He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Geez, this storm is getting real rough, huh? Hopefully, we can get to the office and back home before it gets any worse.”
“Maybe we should skip the office and just go home,” George Michael said, fidgeting nervously with his seatbelt. Michael, recognizing the signs of George Michael’s faint-inducing anxiety attacks, put a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him.
“Hey, buddy, it’s gonna be fine! Really, I doubt anything bad’s gonna-”
“Oh my god, Dad, wa-”