#kyle doesn’t say a word but always comes back from his 48 hour passes off base covered head to toe in bites and hickeys

[pfhwrittes]

something something john soap mactavish correcting the person that called him gay by responding with “i’m an equal opportunity shagger ya weapon” and kyle gaz garrick pointing out “you don’t get much opportunity to shag mate so it’s irrelevant really” something something

[planetsam]

Alex shuts down and is traumatized after witnessing Michael dying -Max brings him back- and Michael trying to reach out to him. Just them being each other’s life line please!

He shoots up with lungs on fire and his heart pounding in his ears.

He shoots up and cracks his forehead against Max’s.

Max goes down like a cheap drunk.

To be fair if he didn’t remember the sick, cold pull of losing most of his blood, if he didn’t remember Max being dead a few months ago, he probably would have a better reaction. As it is he scrambles over, shoving his fingers against Max’s neck to make sure he’s got a pulse and he’s breathing. The paleness only comes from his powers. Thank God. But if that hadn’t happened, he thinks, he probably would have been more aware. He would have realized that Max wasn’t the only person who was watching him bleed out.

Or maybe Alex is just too damn good at slipping away.

Isobel takes them both home and there’s a lot of hugging. Like a lot a lot. Which means it’s nearly forty eight hours before he realizes that the only reply he’s received from Alex is a quick ‘Working’. That’s not unusual in itself. Alex isn’t big into texting, he’s lived his entire life with his messages being closely monitored. His answers are usually one word or they come from a number Michael doesn’t recognize. So he doesn’t think much of it. He sends a devil emoji and Alex sends back a smiley face. He doesn’t even try to interpret that.

“Where are you going?” Isobel demands.

“I’m going to see Alex,” Michael says, “I think he’s avoiding me.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Iz,” he whines and she scowls, “I’ll text when I get there,” he offers. She sighs but nods.

“Be careful,” she says.

He fights the urge to make a joke about always having protection and slips out before Max can voice an objection to him being out of sight. He’s not risking fate by texting while driving so he just drives to Alex’s house. His car is in the driveway and Michael frowns when he sees that Kyle’s is there too. The little bubble of worry begins to expand as he sees the parking job Alex has done. He knocks on the door, waiting to see who opens it. It’s Kyle who does, his face very firmly in doctor mode. Michael does not like doctors as a rule, but he likes doctors in between him and Alex even less.

“What’s wrong?” He demands. Kyle seems torn between sympathy and doctor patient confidentiality. It doesn’t make him feel better, “Kyle!”

“Keep your voice down!” Kyle snaps, closing the door, “he needs to rest.”

“What is wrong with him?” He repeats and Kyle glares, “I mean right now,” he amends, “why does he need to rest? What happened?” Kyle looks stunned and Michael suddenly has a renewed desire to kill him, “i was dying, my spacial awareness was not great!”

“You bled out in his lap,” Kyle cuts in. He ducks past him and pulls out a plastic bag. Michael opens it and almost gags at the smell, “He was trying to stop the bleeding. I found him this morning. He’s been in shock.”

“Damn it,” he swears, knotting the bag and shoving past Kyle who grabs his arm, “get off!”

“He’s asleep!” Kyle says, “I have him on an iv and he’s sleeping. I gave him a sedative. He’s not going to wake up for a few hours.”

“I don’t care!” He says and wrenches his arm free, opening the door.

Kyle doesn’t let it slam as he gets from the door into the bedroom. The picture over Alex’s bed is gone and hanging from the hook is a bag. Tubing snakes down into then crook of his elbow. Alex’s face is slack and his hair is unruly from going to bed with it wet. He’s got a grey Air Force shirt on and he’s completely still. It’s a profound disconnect from how Alex usually sleeps. Michael feels his throat tighten at the sight of it. Of him. He died but Alex was trying to stop that. Alex who never met a battle he didn’t want to fight was watching him bleed out. Was in shock for two days, probably locked in the basement wearing those clothes. Michael doesn’t know who he’s more upset with.

“Damn it Alex,” he mutters, tossing his hat to the side and toeing off his shoes.

Almost dying doesn’t mean Alex is going to let him off the hook if he goes under the covers in his jeans. Which is fine, he climbs on top of them, getting as close to Alex as he can. Sedative or no, he can’t really just lay there watching Alex sleep so he closes his eyes, focuses on the deep, even breaths that Alex is taking and let’s himself drift off.

“I’m fine.”

“You absolutely are not. Don’t say you ate. Tequila is not a food group.”

The huff brings him fully into consciousness. It’s late and there’s a lamp on. Alex is scowling up at Kyle who has his arms folded and no intention of letting him up. Alex glances over and his eyes widen in surprise. Michael rubs his eyes and realizes he was really asleep. Kyle looks from Alex to him which only seems to piss Alex off.

“He needs to eat,” he says.

“Okay okay,” Michael says.

“There’s food here.”

“I’ll make sure he eats,” Michael promises.

“Thank you,” Alex says to Kyle.

He doesn’t look thrilled Kyle is leaving. But Kyle’s the only one with a stable job and people to help. Which kind of leaves them together. Alex dips his head and looks at him quietly. Michael is very used to Alex initiating conversations like this, his silence is strange and unsettling. It feels like they are playing chicken. He caves first.

“You’re working?”

“I was.”

“What if Kyle hadn’t been here?” Michael demands, “what if you had been passed out—“ he’s not the only miserable liar apparently, “you were passed out?!”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You are not fine! Stop saying that! God—i didn’t even know you were there or I would have checked on you way earlier,” Michael shakes his head in self disgust, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says. His stomach rumbles, “lets get food, okay?” He looks over, knowing that his stomach has good timing for once, “can you help me?”

Grateful for something to do besides just hugging Alex in the bed—he promised Kyle he’d make him eat—he glances around for Alex’s prosthetic. Alex nods towards his crutches which are positioned near the bed. Michael picks them up and looks around, putting two and two together. It’s odd to see Alex get out of bed with one pant leg rolled up and tucked around the missing part of his leg. Alex hates the crutches, in more than just a metaphorical sense.

“I’ll clean it,” he says.

“You don’t have to—“

“Course I don’t but I got it,” he says, “where’s your leg?”

“Bathroom,” Alex relents, “I have cleaning stuff in the kitchen.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

He goes into the bathroom. Alex’s leg is disassembled and Michael realizes that they’re trying to dry it out. Blood is caked everywhere on it. They aren’t trying to dry it out because it’s wet from cleaning. His blood has damaged it. The metaphors is nauseating. But at least this is one area he can actually help in. He grabs all the pieces and makes his way into the kitchen where Alex is putting food on plates. He ducks under the sink and grabs the cleaning stuff. He ignores the food in favor of making sure Alex’s leg isn’t messed up by him bleeding out. Alex doesn’t react to the water in the bucket turning pink and then red, he focuses on other things.

“This is gross,” Michael says finally, “seriously this is disgusting. It’s not even all blood.”

“I mean,” Alex swallows, “you were pretty badly hurt.”

“Tell me all of them are dead,” he says looking over at him, “come on I need one piece of good news.”

“They’re dead,” Alex confirms.

Good. He isn’t thrilled about dying but he’s more concerned with the emotional distress they’ve put Alex under. Max can fix physical wounds. Alex is full of grit but he’s making progress damn it. Michael’s been enough of a setback for him. He scrubs the various pieces and wipes them down, making sure they are all clean. He fixes the vacuum mechanism. When he turns to Alex though, Alex shakes his head. Michael can’t blame him. He gets up and puts the leg back in the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Alex says.

“Seems like the least I could do,” Michael says.

“You’re here,” Alex points out and he doesn’t have a response for that.

He cleans up and eats. Alex is eating slower but he hasn’t had Isobel feeding him for the past 48 hours. Even though they’ve slept for most of the day, Michael finds himself tired. He yawns before he can stop himself. When he looks over Alex is yawning too. He smiles but Alex looks at him far more seriously.

“Do you want to sleep here?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says. Alex nods, “Lemme text Iz.”

“I’ll get you something to sleep in.”

One berating later, he finds himself climbing into Alex’s bed. It’s strange and nod just because the bed is big enough. It’s strange because this is the most clothed he’s been laying next to Alex in his entire life. He needs this though, they both do, but his heart is pounding in his ears as he climbs in. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, maybe it’s just because the dark and not seeing each other have always been crutches in their relationship. Whatever that relationship is in the moment. He rips the bandaid off as he turns to Alex.

“Talk to me,” he says, “come on.”

“I—“ Alex trails off.

“Alex,” He isn’t sure why he’s pleading with him. He doesn’t want to damage him, no more than he seems to do without meaning to. It’s fucking shitty that their relationship only seems to work when Alex is doing all of it, “Come on,” He says. Alex blows out a breath. The second one he blows out is shakier and Michael’s stomach drops, “c’mere.”

Alex rolls into his chest with barely any resistance and Michael grips him as tight as he can as Alex sobs into his chest. He just mumbles nonsense and holds Alex, trying his best to remind him at every moment he stops that he’s alive. He’s here. There’s one benefit to being with a screw up alien whose brother can heal. It’s better for Alex to get it out now but fuck if it doesn’t hurt to have him sob like this.

“It’s worth it, you know? I’d do it again—“

“Don’t,” Alex cuts him off, “don’t you dare say that.”

“It’s true,” Michael repeats, “I don’t want you hurt.”

“You almost died,” he says, “I was covered in your blood. Again.”

“I know, I know,” Michael smoothes his hair back and presses their foreheads together, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You saved me just as much as Max did,” he doesn’t let Alex shake his head, “you did. Now you gotta stay with me, right here, okay?”

Alex trembles and Michael aches to hold him but he has to hear. He strokes the tears from his cheeks uselessly.

“Alex—“

“Okay,” Alex says, managing to sound partially annoyed. Michael hugs him close, “you too.”

“Okay okay,” Michael relents, “I’m here,” Alex grips his shirt, “I’m here,” he repeats, in time with their heartbeats, “I’m right here.”