After Marta decided to never date a Bluth again, GOB had an idea.
"I have an idea," GOB said, as he stood in Michael's office.
Michael looked up at GOB tiredly, the only way Michael could look at GOB whenever he had "an idea".
"You and me," GOB pointed at Michael and himself appropriately. "Are gonna go...somewhere." He gestured dramatically, waving his hands about. "Huh? Huh?"
Michael gave it the five-second consideration the idea deserved. "Okay...um...crazy question here, but where are we going?"
GOB laughed. "C'mon, Michael, you don't need a destination. Destinations are for nerds! And people living in the past!"
Michael frowned, then shook his head slightly. "Um...why?"
GOB leaned in close to Michael, close enough for Michael to smell the unlikely combination of 99-cent-store imitation Brut and lighter fluid, which were strikingly similar. "Marta showed us up, man! Made us feel like we weren't good enough for her!"
"We weren't."
"No way! She wasn't good enough for either of us! Well, okay, maybe you, but definitely not me! And we're totally gonna show her!"
"By going 'somewhere'."
"Exactly, Michael. We're gonna go on the road! Two attra -- one attractive man, and his brother..." GOB put his arm around Michael. "The open road, the wild bars, the even wilder women..." He punched Michael lightly in the arm. "C'mon, I got the keys to one of the company cars." He jingled the keys in front of Michael's face.
Michael rubbed his face, attempting to determine exactly how wrong this could turn out. Finally, he sighed. "Fine," he said. "But I'm driving."
As it turned out, GOB's concept of "somewhere" was Tijuana.
And everything reminded GOB of Marta.
Especially the three-story billboard advertising El Amor Prohibido.
And the bar called "Dos Hermanos".
And the woman working behind the counter.
And the jukebox.
And the bottle of tequila.
And the flashing sign that said "cerveza".
Leaving Michael sipping a beer and attempting to ignore GOB's wailing sobs.
"She didn't even want you!" GOB hiccuped.
Michael grimaced. "Thanks." He quickly swallowed his beer and gestured for another.
The collection of bottles reminded GOB of Marta.
The bar tab, however, reminded Michael that he had no money.
"Um...GOB?"
"Quiet, Michael, I'm reminiscing." GOB held up his glass to the light. "Marta... Even her name, Michael. Such symmetry. Such brilliance. Marrrrrrrrrrrrrta. Marta. Maaaaaaaaaarta."
"GOB, I can't pay the bar tab."
GOB frowned, then wrapped his arm around Michael's shoulders. "S'okay, I got it..." He fished in his pockets, pulling out a gleaming gold card.
Michael looked at the card. "Is that a company card?"
"Course it is."
"I cancelled all the company cards."
GOB looked back at Michael just as the register began to beep. "Oh." He looked back towards the register. "That's why the sales clerk laughed at me..." he said to himself.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing." He looked at the bartender, currently huddled with another woman, whispering and gesturing towards the card, then looked back at Michael. "So...you distract them and I run?"
"Why can't you distract them and I run?"
"Really, now. You wouldn't make it past the door."
Michael opened his mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by the bartender. "Excuse me, senor?" The bartender gestured towards the card. "You are Bluth family, si?"
"Yes, yes we are," GOB said, smiling at the woman. "I'm GOB, and this is Michael."
The bartender tilted her head slightly. "Of California?"
Michael frowned. "Yes..."
"In the Boyfights videos, si?"
GOB grinned and Michael rolled his eyes. "Boyfights, yeah!" He grabbed Michael in a choke-hold. "Me and Michael, Boyfights!"
Michael grimaced and pushed GOB away. GOB slapped back at him.
The bartender smiled and looked back at the other woman. "Luches del Ninos!"
The other woman grinned and came to them, speaking excitedly in Spanish, taking their hands and shaking them violently.
Michael frowned and looked back at the bartender. "Um..."
"We are very big fans of your videos. Luches del Ninos es muy popular!"
GOB grinned. "Thank you, Miss...?"
The bartender smiled wider. "I'm Catalina and she's Marisol."
"Hola," Marisol said, waving.
Catalina smiled and leaned in a bit closer to GOB. "Mi amigos and I...we're big fans..."
"Really?"
"Si..." Catalina leaned in even closer. "All of our friends are. They would love to meet you..."
"Would they?"
"I don't know, GOB," Michael said, looking towards the door. "I think maybe we should be heading back..."
"C'mon, Michael! We have fans! Didn't Dad always tell us to support the fan base?"
"No, no, he didn't."
"Well he told me." GOB leaned in next to Michael. "Michael, they're our fans! They'll totally put out!"
Michael looked back at Catalina and Marisol, then at GOB, and realized he didn't have a choice in the matter.
The women led them down several alleyways, through a few gates, and to a small house with even smaller windows. Michael had attempted to keep track of where he was going, but after a few turns, he was lost even more than GOB's usual lack of direction.
The house was dark inside. And quiet. And filled with women.
"See? We are all fans!" Catalina said, smiling.
Michael stared at the women. "Um...yeah..."
The women broke into cheers. "Luches del Ninos!" they shouted. "Mi favorito!"
"El Buster de Bebe es mi favorito!" one of the women said, clapping her hands.
"Thank you, thank you," GOB said, holding up his hands. "Boyfights did have a certain...magic!" GOB shook his arms out, palms extended. "Magic!" he shouted, flicking his hands again.
There was a faint scent of lighter fluid, and GOB sighed. "That'd be really awesome if someone had a match," he muttered.
"Quisiera que tu luchara!" a woman shouted.
The other women cheered. "Luchar! Luchar! Luchar!"
Michael looked at Catalina. Catalina smiled. "They want..." She paused. "They would like you to fight."
"Fight?" Michael said, his eyes wide. "You want us to fight?"
"Si! Luchar!"
"Luchar! Luchar! Luchar!"
"No, no, no, no, no," Michael said, shaking his head and trying to start towards the door. "No, I don't think we'll be fighting any time soon..."
GOB turned towards Michael. "Michael...the fan base! The fan base!"
Michael shook his head. "No, GOB. We're not going to fight. Just because Dad could make us fight doesn't mean they can."
GOB looked at Michael, then at the fans, then back at Michael. "Sorry 'bout this," he whispered, just before throwing a punch.
The women had left hours ago, leaving Michael and GOB battered, bloody, and hungover. Michael stared at his brother and wondered if smothering was an option.
Just as smothering was looking like the best option, GOB turned to him and grinned wildly. "Dad was right," he said. "Gotta respect the fans."
Michael looked at GOB. He reached over to pat GOB's shoulder, and winced in pain. "No," he said. "He really wasn't."
This Arrested Development story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/. And you can feedback her at dymphna@dymphna.net.