Chapter Text
There is something bright and sparking in his chest as Michael unlocks the front door, with his key as promised and steps inside his new shared home.
He thinks as he takes in the long hallway with its warm welcoming lamps, that this happy shocked feeling might never pass. He can't right now imagine arriving here and not feeling that rush of tenderness and wonder, that someone like him has a home.
He's maybe twenty minutes behind Alex, so he takes his boots off in the hall, placed where Alex cannot possibly trip over them - which is an ever present worry for him, if not Alex - and calls out, hopefully "Alex?"
"In here." He calls back. Michael as always soaks in the rich timbre of his voice, the happy note in his tone that Michael was back, doing things to Michael, giving him that fuzzy warmth that he wants to hoard close to his chest and keep forever.
And there he is, leaning out the door to his home office having been watching the security feed and waiting for the flash of the Chevy's headlights no doubt. But while from his brother that would be a sign of distrust, and he's feeling a little hurt that Max still doesn't trust him, from Alex its his normal sweet paranoia.
He's been watching for him at the door since they started dating, officially becoming a couple six months ago. Half the time when Michael knocked, Alex was half a step before the door, his eyes sparkling and all dressed up to go out...or to invite Michael inside. So Michael thinks nothing of it, shutting the door and locking it like this is something he does every night.
"You're home." Alex says, voice full of relief and that warm cherished feeling that makes Michael think that he too hasn't lost that wonder that they're really doing this, living together.
The relief was from their current mission, the danger more on Michael's part which Alex wasn't too happy about, infiltrating the Dark Triad as Max was calling them.
It had been a slight shock that Alex - supported by Dallas - had agreed that him going undercover was a good idea, when Max had shot him down so harshly. Alex was more inclined to loathe solo missions where Michael's head in the firing line and had vehemently fought him last time over Jones when Michael had been going solo, come hell or high water. So his calm acceptance had been a little surprising.
Of course his flat stipulation that he would supply considerable resources in tracking and monitoring Michael, would be close by in case it went pear-shaped and would be listening in to every word...that made it more feasible, if a little creepy. He might have rebelled, might have felt equal if not stronger hurt at the lack of trust, except Alex holding Max's gaze, declared that this was normal procedure firstly and secondly, if any asshole thought they were hurting Michael while Alex was breathing, they could die as loudly as they wanted.
It had been obvious in that moment that Alex was offended, stung even, that Max thought he wouldn't watch Michael's back. Wouldn't move the planetary alignment of the solar system single-handed if he thought it would protect his alien.
"They will overlook how clever Michael is, how dangerous he is and how he's good to his bones, because everyone else does." Alex had said coldly, the implication that Max wasn't admiring these characteristics clear in Alex's tone.
So every time he had met with Clyde, Alex had been with him out of sight but very much listening.
"I'm home." Michael agrees softly and Alex's eyes light up, the memory of that night on the couch still a treasured one.
Right now though, Michael was more concerned for his boyfriend.
The death of Mimi Deluca had hit Alex so hard. She had been something of a surrogate mother to him growing up, his biggest supporter when he came out and someone he had held onto during his overseas active service tours.
Losing her was devastating and Michael who had met his own mother for a few minutes and then lost her in an explosion on the same day, spent over a year trying to learn all that he could about her...he felt awful that Alex was going through it too now.
Red-rimmed dark eyes meet his and Alex's smile was genuine if a little wobbly, as Michael reaches for him.
"Hey, beautiful." Alex greets him as he comes closer and Michael relaxes at the sight of him, prosthetic off and wearing his ratty black corduroy shirt with one pant leg tied off. The collar has gone and half of the buttons are missing, one cuff barely hanging on but he swears its comfortable and right now Michael wants him to feel safe and comforted.
To be honest, its a relief. He wasn't sure which version of Alex he was going to find tonight. The stressed, tightly controlled captain or the agitated Alex from yesterday. But his other half is calm and dressed down at home, further proof that Alex trusts him. Because if he didn't, he'd still be in commando mode, going over every angle and every word that Clyde had said.
"Hey." Michael repeats, leaning in for a long deep kiss and oh this is coming home. "Been thinking of that for hours." He admits, breathing in the warm scent of Alex, nuzzling his nose just because he can, his hands finding purchase on Alex's waist. He keeps his voice gentle and his touches tender but light, because for all his strength there is something fragile about Alex at the moment.
Alex's smile brightens just a little and Michael wants to keep that look on his face, help to battle the darkness and the sadness away. "Mmm." Alex hums in reply kissing Michael again, arms sliding around him.
Making out against any available surface has always been their thing, so Michael just worships Alex's mouth, keeping to Alex's set pace of slow and intense. He's primed for whatever Alex needs right now. Distraction, comfort, closeness, distance, rambling talk about gasket seals and quantum mechanics.
When the kiss breaks, Michael's head is pounding, the migraine that has been throbbing behind his right eye for over an hour, getting worse by the second. Still, he keeps close and enjoys in the way Alex holds him tightly. Eventually, Alex sighs like the world is being unfair and slides back a little, his hand comes up to play with Michael's curls, eyes distant.
"You hungry? I can make some dinner?" Michael offers worried about him, eyes tracing over his perfect face, worried about the blue rings around his eyes.
"Sure." Alex says halfheartedly, his smile not fully reaching his lovely dark eyes.
But Michael understood. Its not like he had been reaching for food after losing his mother, but getting nutrition down Alex was important, for obvious reasons - but Michael was thinking too of his medications, all of which except for the anti-inflammatory, had to be consumed with food.
"Okay. I'll make us something simple." Michael says and reluctantly releases his gorgeous man to wander over to the fridge. The white light seemed to set off another spike of pain, making him wince and clutch the door like he was drowning.
"Hey, are you okay?" Alex asks and from Michael's peripheral vision he sees him come closer, his arms that had been folded over his chest hugging himself, loosening as he approached. "Michael?"
Michael closes the fridge, swallows back the pain. "Yeah. Yeah, just a headache. I'll..." He reaches out with his mind and old reflex by now for the bottle of acetone that Alex has taken to keeping in kitchen, despite Michael telling him its dangerous to his health.
And the world ignites.
A cry is torn from his throat, the pain that was bad but not agony ratcheting up to unbearable in seconds. It explodes through his head and his heart is pounding nearly in time to his head. His body feels like its on fire, every nerve ending lighting up.
His body locks up, fire searing every muscle he has. Vaguely he feels the floor rushing up to him, feels himself falling backwards and the thump as he lands. Through blurred vision he sees Alex, feels his hands on him, the touch like a brand on his arms.
For a second he's back there in that barn, the ring of adults all chanting and the smell of burning sage. The manic look in his foster's eyes as he comes at him with the brand, shaped as a crucifix, the fear and determination in all of them to wipe the Earth clean of a demon masquerading as a nine year old child. Please no.
He can't breathe. He's having a seizure he thinks, limbs convulsing and Alex is holding onto him and distantly he thinks about Alex being on the floor and how bad for his hip this gonna be.
Michael fights hard, to control his body, to think, to do something that will help himself but he can't...
Alex...Alex...
Unconsciousness wraps around him and pulls him from his flailing body.
___
His entire body aches.
Its the first thing Michael registers, how his entire body feels like he's been thrown from a moving vehicle and maybe driven over a few times.
He's broken enough bones to know how each type feels; the compound fracture, the hairline, the full break. He's been in enough bad fights to know exactly how bad you can feel with a hangover and bruises everywhere. And he's worked full time on ranches across the state and beyond where hard work in the sun can leave you bone tired.
And despite all that, he has never felt like this before. His bones feel like they're burning. As if there is a literal fire smoking along each one, from his femurs to his tibiae. His head is throbbing, chest tight and he can still feel tremors along his skin.
The second thing Michael registers, because life has rarely treated him kindly, is the sound of voices permeating the fog of his brain.
He listens not really following along, trying to gauge the tone and if he recognizes anyone. He's lying down Michael realizes, a blanket covering him which is not helping the fire inside his bones, and he thinks that the other voice is Max, recognizing his brother's rumble. Something in him calms down he hears Max, knowing he's safe that whatever put him down is not affecting his brother.
Why is he lying down if their family is visiting? Something had happened and Michael wonders what the hell it was.
The more worrying problem was why couldn't he feel Max? The bonds connecting the three of them, four now with Dallas, felt...rubbery. As if the chains that they had forged and strengthened, that Michael had maintained despite blocking the signal for years, guarding them against himself...had turned to gelatin.
It took a lot of energy to even check to see if he could feel they were alive. And that scared him.
Michael tried to lift the blanket covering him with his mind and received a sharp stab of pain through his head for his trouble, combined with an overwhelming sense of tiredness.
Holy Hell. His powers weren't working. He couldn't connect with his siblings, could barely sense them!
Over his head the voices continued while Michael quietly freaked out.
...That was definitely Alex and Michael tunes in more as soon as the anxious tone sinks in, temporarily forgetting powers and alien siblings.
Alex is close by on his right side and very upset. Its the brittleness in that lovely voice that gives it away and Michael can sadly imagine the huge chocolate eyes that are accompanying that tone of voice. Oh he's really upset, Michael thinks worried, hearing the aggression starting to slip into the vowels.
Are they talking about the funeral for Mimi Deluca? Michael wonders dimly. They should let Isobel handle that.
He tries to move, worried about that upset tone and feeling completely inadequate to deal with Alex's pain. Alex is hurting and that historically doesn't end well for them, because Michael never gets it right...but his trailing depressing thoughts cease when pain worse than the spike earlier, slams back into his awareness and he lets out a pathetic whimper.
Oh yeah that's gonna help. Michael thinks darkly. They're funeral planning and you're whimpering.
The light is so bright when he tries to open his eyes and he fights the pain to move, to prove to himself he can as panic rises that maybe he can't...when a familiar callused hand lands on his forehead and Alex's voice speaks from close-by. "Shh. Michael. You're okay. You're safe. Stop moving."
He stops immediately, nervous about why Alex thinks he should be still. Alex's hand strokes his curls and his other hand is on his chest, laying flat over his heart, which is something Alex does when he's in an especially romantic mood or scared. In the last six months, Michael has been a witness to a few flashbacks and bad nightmares, where in the aftermath they had sat curled together, Alex's hand tracking his heartbeat. Only for the really, really bad ones did Alex allow himself to press his ear to Michael's heart.
"That's it. Can you open your eyes for me?" Alex asks, tone that one Michael labels Everything Is Going To Be Fine. Its a tone for crises and when Alex is bottling all emotion up and pretending that everything in the universe is fine.
Still Alex asked and he wants to see his boyfriend, so Michael tries and pries open his eyes to squint at Alex. "You okay?" Michael rasps and wonders why his voice sounds like he's been strangled recently.
Alex is a little blurred but he looks criminally beautiful in the shadowy light of the living room, in a white t-shirt that shows off the scar down his arm, eyes the color of coffee fixed intently on Michael, his hoop earrings glittering. His alien glass pendent is proudly on display.
He's perched on the coffee table, by Michael's head, long jeans clad legs close enough that Michael could touch his calf if he had the function. Slowly, under Alex's watchful, worried gaze, Michael finds the coordination and strength to get his uncooperative hand up so he can drop it on Alex's fingers on his chest.
Safer, he figured. At least with this option he can't accidentally hit Alex in the leg.
Its going to be okay. Michael thinks desperately, Alex is here. Right beside him and so of course its gonna be okay.
Alex's face does that thing where he looks annoyed and shocked simultaneously, before its tucked away again behind the mask of supreme control. His eyes are never really masked, at least when he looks at Michael and right now they are suspiciously bright. "Am I....Michael you had seizure. On the kitchen floor." Alex says it like he expects Michael to....well have some kind of reaction.
Dread drops into his stomach. "Did I break something?" Else? he wants to ask, panic getting ready to take to the air.
"What?" Alex barks, looking at him horrified, "No. No baby. You didn't break anything. You had a seizure." He adds weight to the last word as if Michael just hasn't cottoned on yet.
Oh. Well that was relief. Michael let the tension building in his body go. Score one for him. First time homeowner and he hasn't broken the kitchen yet and he couldn't have hurt Alex because he looks fine.
"Mikey? You with us?" Liz asks and Michael turns his head to face the bottom of the sofa, to see her perched by his knees. Behind her is Maria in a chair watching him anxiously and Max standing there thumbs in his belt staring at Michael like he's going to confess his sins any second.
"Who strangled me this time?' Michael asks and Alex's hand which had been stroking his chest beneath Michael's grip, goes still. He thinks about what he just said, mentally cringes and looks at Max in the hopes his brother will save him.
"You tell me." Max says worriedly, refusing to throw him a life-line.
Liz though frowns at him, looking nearly as worried as Alex, waving an in-ear thermometer at him. "You have a temperature of a hundred and nine. Aliens usually run at one-oh-two."
"My bones are burning." Michael tells her blandly.
"He's never had a fever." Max says slowly, "When did this start?"
"He was fine last night." Alex says in that upset tone again, his left hand resuming his caress of his curls, "He had a headache. He was talking about making something for dinner and then just stood in front of the fridge for ten minutes. Just staring. I asked what was wrong and he startled a little and said it was a headache. Then he was having a seizure."
Last night and its daylight....so its now morning...how much time has he lost? Michael wonders dismayed.
"Did you get strangled?' Maria asks him, watching him worriedly.
"With a rope by Cody Masters." Michael replies. That had been a bad day.
"That was four years ago." Max tells them irritably and then asks, "Wait you know what year it is?"
"2022." Michael replies eyes closing.
"Is he dead?" Alex asks heatedly, if quietly. Michael wants to smack his own head but refrains because that will look weird and possibly knock himself out. He would use that word in the presence of someone whose father had routinely strangled him as a kid. A glance at Alex reveals a face of quiet thunder, not at Michael but dear old Cody.
"Am I dying?" Michael asks the room at large.
"You're not dying!" Maria tells him exasperated, and wasn't that fast? Then asks Liz ruining the comforting part, "Is he dying?'
"What?! No." Alex retorts loudly, moving closer as if he was about to bodily protect Michael. "He's going to be fine, right?" There was a desperation in Alex's eyes that had Liz grabbing his hand.
"We will figure this out. I'm pretty sure he's not dying." Liz tells them, holding onto Alex.
"That's good, because it sucked last time." Michael tells the ceiling and there is a loud pause. Why did he say that? Did his filter die at the same time as his powers? Are the two linked? Move stuff with his mind, control his mouth?
"You were dead for like twenty minutes tops." Max tells him like that's a comfort. "You were fine."
"You...twenty minutes?" Alex repeats sounding gutted.
"Okay, why are we learning this now?' Liz demands.
Neither brother answers. The why-part is obvious and dying at the time, the trauma of it was low on the Bucket List of Traumas that night anyway. The day his mother died, Max died, Noah died, Izzy nearly died...his hand was healed...yeah low on the list.
"I can't believe you two." Maria sighs.
"I've run every test I can think of. Mikey do you remember waking up earlier?" Liz asks.
"No. Just smacking the floor and then here." Michael tells her, flexing his feet restlessly like that could stop the burning. "Shit that's hot." He'd the throw the blanket off, but he realizes he's in a t-shirt and his boxers. Dammit Alex, couldn't he be in pants? He's no prude but his ex-girlfriend is watching him lie here, along with his soon-to-be sister-in-law. Neither one need to see his thighs.
"Okay." Liz rubs his arm in comfort, "You told me earlier when I first got here that you...felt like you were being shocked." The tone she uses makes Michael suspect he was a little too honest and Alex's hands have gone still again. Michael glances at Max whose jaw has tightened and then looks at Liz. Her dark eyes are full of sympathy and that determination he admires.
"Huh. Well...the muscle relaxants never worked. Explains the pain." Michael says as quietly as he can. Like he can soften the blow or something. Max looks like he's going to hit something and Alex's hand might as well be iron.
"Shocked? As in electrocution?" Maria asks sounding confused. "When did you get electrocuted?"
"Couple of times." Michael tells the ceiling. "Might explain the burning bones."
Alex makes a quiet pained noise and Michael strokes his hand. Liz looks upset and Michael loves her for moving on swiftly. He doesn't want to talk about work accidents or shock treatments when he was a kid. "How do you feel now? Other than the burning and lethargy?"
Michael thought about it. "Wrong. I can't feel your energy properly...its like fish in a barrel. I feel like I'm underwater. I can't reach for things...but the energy is there...just not..like its behind a door."
"Your powers are off-line." Max tells him ripping the band-aid off but Michael already knew that terrifying fact.
"No...I mean yeah I can't use them, but the...the mechanism is there, its just not responding." Michael tells him and buries the panic. "Everything just feels disconnected and everything fucking hurts."
"Any other symptoms?" Liz asks before he can think of a reply.
"I feel like I'm not really here." Michael tells her. "Like when I got stabbed in the neck and bled out. Feels like that."
Alex's hand goes from still to clutching his t-shirt hard enough to rip the cloth. "When did that happen?" Alex demands lowly and Maria looks horrified. "Was this the twenty minutes you were dead?"
Liz stares at him in shock, "Mikey?"
"Noah stabbed him." Max explains saving Michael, with a look of 'dude, why?' Michael looks back helplessly, and has no idea why he's being so...upfront. Max adds a little redundantly, "I got knocked out and when I came to... he was hurt real bad. I healed him."
"It was the night he died. Well other than Iz, we all died." Michael tells Liz helpfully. "Kinda the least important thing at the time."
Alex's hand on his chest says otherwise, the grip bordering on painful. It relaxes minutely and Alex's hand resumes carding through his hair. Alex leans in and kisses his head, murmuring something indecipherable.
'So what's wrong with him?" Maria asks for everyone.
"I think something is blocking his powers and the way his body uses energy." Liz said turning to the others, Alex specifically, who Michael knows is hanging onto every word. "Aliens have a incredible energy storing system beyond ours, in their cells. Which allows you guys to use telekinesis for instance. Blocking this has basically given him a kind of metabolic disorder. Where his body has all this energy it can't use."
"How come?" Maria asks.
"All living creatures rely on external sources of energy to be able to grow and reproduce. Radiant energy from the Sun for most plants and chemical energy for most animals. Its a dangerous energy conversion system really... in a controlled way. A peanut contains more energy than a bomb." He coughs and his chest hurts. Liz pats his arm soothingly.
"The body breaks down what it absorbs into key constituents which it then uses in a billion different processes, some that are only going on for a fraction of a second. Only a tiny bit is used for work like walking. What we do basically, is hive off some of that energy and use it in channels to fuel telepathy or setting shit on fire." Michael tells the ceiling hoarsely, "Its why most aliens can't keep using a power continuously. Like you can't run for really long time without eventually running outta steam."
"You can." Maria points out, referencing one of their biggest fights. Its there in her tone, the memory of her anger that he wouldn't understand and the tears in her eyes. That he was the only one of their alien group who never seemed to run out of power.
"Michael's different." Alex says as if this is answer enough.
Michael settles into that state hovering on the cusp of sleep, mentally cringing that Alex is listening. He should say nothing like he always has, but..."Yeah but mine developed from a fear response. I was in fucking agony being held down on the ground in a barn and thought I gonna die. Kick up the ass for my powers." He huffs a dry laugh. "Then I couldn't turn em' off. And nutrition sure as hell wasn't a given. Valenti thinks I use some radiant energy to fuel my 'high-energy activities'."
There was a pause and Michael closed his eyes.
"Like a plant?" Max asks breaking the quiet.
"Cosmic energy is entering the atmosphere all the time Max. You're being bombarded every second of every day. You're on a planet parked in orbit around a giant thermal reactor." He tells his brother calmly.
"And in aliens some part of their cells acts as a battery and a factory for this fuel-source." Liz steps into the breach. "One of the symptoms of a lot of metabolic disorders is altered consciousness and seizures. The regenerative proteins in your blood are struggling, so your immune system feels like its under attack."
"So something switched off his body's ability to regulate its energy." Alex theorizes, sounding horrified. "And hit these proteins so his body is attacking itself?"
"The alien fruit?" Maria asked worriedly, "Dallas ate it too."
"Or exposure to the tetrahedron." Max throws out.
"Or he's been poisoned." Alex argues, as Michael coughs weakly. "Shh. Easy baby."
Michael thinks that Alex must really be freaking out if he's using endearments and soft touches in front of their family. Its not that Alex is adverse to being affectionate in the safety bubble of their nearest and dearest, but words like 'baby' are reserved for the bedroom and a locked door. And he usually would not be petting Michael's hair and gripping his t-shirt like this either.
But then, Michael thinks, this is the first time he's been downed in front of Alex and while they're together. All the other things happened away from Alex, like being murdered by Noah. Alex feels like he allowed to touch and fret over him in public now, although Michael does wonder what he would be doing right now if they weren't together. Probably sitting in tense, silent agony over Michael being in pain and not being allowed to touch, or say the words burning on his tongue.
"Let's not jump to any conclusions okay?" Liz says patting his and Alex's hands, "I'm going to take the samples to the lab. Science is going to solve this mystery."
"What if I'm contagious?" Michael asks, side-eying Alex but that gives him a blinding stab of pain through his left eye. "Fuck."
"Michael." Alex says worriedly.
"I don't think that you are." Liz tells him. "You certainly won't effect anyone human."
"I don't give a damn if you are." Alex tells him fiercely. "I am not leaving you."
"What about work?" Michael asks softly, "You don't want to be stuck with me."
Alex's eyes glitter as he leans closer until they're nose on nose, rearranging Michael's universe with a short sentence like he always does. "I want to be stuck with you for the rest of my life. I am not leaving and you are not going anywhere."
And he wouldn't. Not even when it turned out Bonnie was looking for help.
________
"No. You are not going anywhere Michael Guerin. You are lying down. What if you have another seizure?"
______________
Michael had never considered the possibility that he might one day be poisoned or more specifically have his powers shut off like a valve. He feels like he's on fire and his entire body is one throbbing bruise, but he also never considered how Alex would react.
He feels one hundred percent wrong.
Alex is superb at everything he does and Michael is biased, but what super fan isn't? A crisis to Alex is something to work through, a threat is something to eradicate or neutralize. Everything can be worked around and as long as Alex is in control, he will find a path, a solution or some way of fixing the situation, or in his line of work; make it disappear.
All of the crazy mind-blowing events and crises they've faced over the years, Alex has dealt with each one with an admirable level of aplomb or just that incredible self-assured confidence that everything would be fine. From discovering aliens exist and that he had been sleeping with one, all the way over to Jones switching bodies.
His level of comfortable with the crazy would be worrying if it wasn't their family and all their drama.
His best friend and sort-of-older-sister is murdered and then gets resurrected. Alex sorts out her identity and covers up who she is.
He learns his childhood friend is Izzy's great niece and he just thinks its expanding families.
His male best friend gets kidnapped and Alex was a sharp and as cool as a frozen lake.
His family have a legacy of committing atrocities right on American soil, only miles from where he grew up, so he takes it on as crusade.
Three people he knows from school, one a former lover are aliens capable of blowing things up, healing injuries and conjuring up electrical storms and he thinks its sci-fi come to life.
All of it, he took pretty well. Most people would have bolted for the hills.
So if he had ever thought about, Alex's reaction to him sprawled like a beached whale on the couch, he would have imagined him cool and completely rational about it. In this darkest hours, he probably would have assumed that Alex would have just gone to work and ... let's face it even his overactive imagination probably would not have imagined Alex's couch in the first place.
He expected with Izzy absent down in Mexico with Kyle, to be left here with a phone and this blanket while the world carried on. He didn't expect any of them to stay. Max had Bonnie to deal with, Liz was trying to find answers, Maria had her bar, Dallas was off somewhere and Alex was a workaholic. He didn't need babysitting and he's so used to dealing with this kind of thing on his own anyway, the thought that Alex would be coping badly, never entered his head.
It really should have.
Rather than get up as he normally would, - partly Michael was sure though he would never say it aloud, to reset the alarm - Alex didn't move from where he was stroking Michael's hair to see anyone out, dark eyes fixed on Michael. "You're going to be okay. We will figure this out." Alex tells him fiercely.
Michael just clutches his hand and breathes through the panic and the pain.
"What about tracking Clyde?" Max had asked before he left.
"I can monitor him from here and Deep Sky is keeping an eye on him too, thanks to the trace Michael put on him." Alex tells him, voice perfectly level. "Clearly they're not expecting Michael to come back."
Max left with a nod and Liz followed with the samples. Maria didn't know what to do and Alex sat back after a minute, bringing Michael's hand with him. "Do you want stay here? Or move to the bed? If you're hot maybe there with the air conditioning or fan?" Alex asks him anxiously.
Michael glanced at him and smiled reassuringly. He was roasting, but not in any way he's ever felt before and that was with working outside in the scorching heat of August. "Yeah, maybe that'll be a good idea."
Being in bed was probably a good idea, he thought. If the nausea got worse he was closer to the bathroom while he was alone. Then he remembered he was in his boxers. Oh what the hell. Alex is his boyfriend and Maria has certainly seen him in less. He sat up slowly and Alex supported his back immediately, hauling him upright when his legs wouldn't cooperate. The world spun and he tense instinctively because when that happens shit usually breaks.
Nothing did happen which was good, but a sharp reminder that he was...wrong. Shut off from all that makes him...him. Fuck, even Alex, his sensory perception of him is off. He's relied on that link to Alex for years while they were apart and in same damn room, that awareness of him like aura or echo.
He tries to walk and nearly falls over, forcing Alex to grab him tightly. "Shit. Sorry Alex."
"Just breathe slowly sweetheart. Okay? Right come on." Alex coaxed and Maria rose from her chair to help, but Alex in that capable way of his even with a prosthetic leg managed to move Michael's pretty dead weight ass to the bedroom and deposit him on the covers without pausing.
"I have such a hot boyfriend." Michael told him as he face planted on the bed, exhausted by the process of getting there. He was shivering now he was just in his boxer briefs and his body ached.
"I really do." Alex replied making him laugh. There was a beep startling him and the thermometer was back in his ear. Another beep and Alex took it out, "You've dropped to one hundred and four."
"Temperature fluctuation. Fun." Michael grumbled into the pillow. "Its gonna go like a yo-yo." He was so tired and everything hurt and the best medicine he was sure was just passing out.
"Okay." Alex said gently, ruffling his curls. "How do you feel?"
Wrong. He feels wrong.
"Like I'm off-line and something broke. Everything hurts and I'm underwater." Michael complained, but then considered that Alex had been through worse. He's lost a leg. "But I'll be fine. Don't worry darlin'."
Alex leans forward and kisses his hair, then the burning hot skin of his back. "You'll get better. I'm here. Rest now." He tells him as he leaves the room and Michael was pretty sure he was going to get ready for work and come back in a minute to say goodbye. He dozed sleepily, cringing every time he moved and God, he felt like he was dying and he's done that once before.
Which he went and said in front of Alex and he's talked about being electrocuted. Embarrassment burned like his bones.
He was not expecting Alex to return with a cool cloth, a towel, six bottles of acetone and drinking water. He wasn't expecting him to sit down on the bed and proceed to wet a cloth and plaster it to Michael's exposed back.
Michael gasped at the sudden cold and Alex asked worried, 'Too cold?"
"No...its okay. Its great." It was too much! That fucking burned more than his bones but it was Alex. "Um..."
But Alex plied him with a bottle of nail polish remover and got comfortable on the bed, wringing out his cloth, his tone saturated with worry. "I called Kyle. He said to keep you hydrated and cool, to keep your fever down since fever meds won't help. He said we can manage the pain with acetone and that if it is a metabolic problem we have to try and prevent your organs getting damaged."
"Okay."
Alex's free hand was taking his in a tight grip. "You're going to be okay." He tells him firmly and Michael clutches him back.
"If I'm not?" He asks because spending the rest of life feeling like this is not a future he can fathom right now.
"Liz will find a way." Alex says definitively. "You'll get better. You have to. And I'm here. Anything you need."
"Just you baby." Michael tells him, because it was true. Alex makes everything better.
Between the acetone and acclimatizing to the temperature of the water, it was becoming bearable and then kinda nice. The cloth took some of the heat away, drawing it from his skin and Alex very sweetly, dabbed at his shoulders, the back of his neck, down his arms and legs.
He turns his head and looks at Alex, whose sitting there in his comfortable jeans, the ones with patches missing at the knees and the white t-shirt that makes him look like a model. That is very much not a work look. Michael knows that even if he knows nothing about fashion. He has everything Alex wears memorized and learned that like Izzy, he wears certain things depending on his mood.
He's not even wearing socks.
"Is Maria still here?" He asks dimly, wondering why he's not left for Deep Sky and the mysteries of his console or Clyde.
Alex pauses in wringing out his cloth again, peering down at Michael. He looks put out at the question and changes his expression after a moment. "Did you want her to stay?" He asks sounding concerned.
"No." Michael scrambles for an excuse, "Just forget to say goodbye. Kinda rude."
Alex's expression softens and only then does Michel realize that he had tensed. "No, its okay Michael. You're sick. She understood."
The acetone is taking the edge off the pain, but Michael caps the bottle. "Shouldn't you finish that?" Alex asks, wiping down his back diligently.
"Makes me loopy." It is a painkiller after all and when he's tired it works far, far better than when he's fine and sober.
"Loopy is fine. You're in pain sweetheart. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere until you're better." Alex tells him sounding satisfied.
"What about Deep Sky?" Michael asks on the cusp of sleep.
"Ramos understands." Alex said curtly, and dries his back with the towel. "Sleep sweetheart."
______
If Michael was all wrong, Alex was not fine.
_____
For the first nine hours of this crisis, Michael just sleeps dosing on acetone. He might not be a functional alien right now and he might not know that much about their home world, but he's been experimenting with acetone for years. There is a fine line between too much that will put him down for over a day, usually helped by alcohol and enough to ward off the worse of the pain.
He's restless as his body swings between cold and burning, but somehow Alex was always there.
Every time he wakes, its to Alex beside him on the bed or coming to check on him thermometer in hand. He leans down and presses a kiss to Michael’s forehead or his hair, feeling his temperature. He makes Michael drink plenty of fluids fearing for his kidneys - or whatever equivalent his species have - and frets over his pain levels.
If he said he was hot, wrestling with the blanket, the cold cloths come back out.
If he's cold, Alex piles on the blankets and wraps himself around Michael.
He can't eat, can't stomach the thought but worries that Alex is not taking care of himself.
Its incredible that Alex is there, like a fever-dream apparition, but thankfully he's not that out of it that he says something idiotic that will hurt Alex. But he fucking basks in it at the same time.
It means more to him than he can possibly put into words that Alex stays with him and worries over him. He thinks it makes him like a hypochondriac or something, but throughout his life when he's in pain or struggling, its alone. He's good at being alone and tells himself he prefers it. But this....
His siblings care but they have no patience for him when he's vulnerable. Its a fact and he accepts it. Alex however has gone into this protective, mother hen mode and it makes Michael feel sappy about them having kids one day.
"I'm so fucking tired and I'm not doin' anything." Michael complained, shivering violently, looking at his hand which was shaking.
Alex kisses his curls again, and tightens his hold on him. "That's the fever."
"I love you. More than anything in this universe." He tells him when Alex is this time plying him with some detox tea.
Alex leans over him and kisses him soundly. "For always." his alien glass pendent dancing against his skin. The two pieces connect together drawn by the same cosmic connection they share.
_______
The only time he tried making it to the bathroom alone, he face planted on the floor like a sack of potatoes and his body thought a seizure was a great icing for the cake of bad ideas.
Naturally, Alex rushed in and panicked nearly twisting his knee and has Kyle on the phone in what seems to be seconds.
This prompted Alex to move his office into the living room or bedroom depending on where Michael wanted to be. Michael's migraine had the soundtrack of clacking keys and the odd mouse click, but he didn't dare complain. How could he when Alex buries his cold foot under Michael's thigh and keeps him company.
And Alex was in full mother hen mode, treating looking after Michael like it was his life's mission.
He was elevated on a pillow, dosed with acetone every hour and watched like a hawk. Deviating from safe things like sleeping was off the cards. It sort of swung between sweet-as-hell and slightly disturbing.
His body is fighting itself and he coughs miserably, now back on the couch. Its late afternoon and they've not even made it to the end of the day. "You sure I'm not gonna make you sick?" Michael asks for the hundredth time, flushed and stricken by waves of nausea. Just think of it as a hangover, Michael thinks. He can feel how his t-shirt is horribly plastered to his clammy skin, the overheated battery type of heat sticking to his body. He needs a shower. Alex has refused every time he's pointed it out.
Apparently it would shock his system.
"I don't care." Alex says for the thousandth time, sounding irritable. Except he has the coffee table lined with a bowl of ice water, another one of ice cubes, a hot water bottle, juice, tea, two thermometers and more acetone than Michael's ever seen outside of a pharmacy and he won't take his prosthesis off.
He's rearranged the living room so he's got one of his modern armchairs parked next to the couch, some small table that seemed to appear from nowhere for his laptop, a portable plug strip for all his gadgets and a mug of tea for himself.
"Yeah but,"
"No." Alex snaps and Michael would be hurt by the tone, except he's getting on Alex's last nerve and yet Alex is putting the tv on a nature program, saying "You like these."
He does that's true and this one is on rain-forests. "You do have a beautiful planet Manes."
Alex doesn't smile like he should and rearranges the items on the coffee table as if he's waiting for inspection. “You need to eat something,”
"Really don't want to." Michael replies huddling deeper into his blanket, coughing again. He flaps a hand at Alex's leg. "Take it off Alex. Its been the whole day."
"I'm fine." Alex replies shortly, "I need both legs in case you have another seizure."
Michael when he first started sleeping over in this house months ago, learned Alex's routines. Alex denied he had any at first, but it was all so new and they spent a lot of time re-discovering each other. Not just sex, although that is a fixture for them nearly everyday. But who they were outside of the drama of their lives, likes and dislikes, daily stuff that seems boring but to Michael with how intensely private Alex is, those were things he's been wondering about for over a decade.
Alex should be when he's at home, off the leg. After nine at night he takes it off and uses his crutch to give his leg downtime, other wise he's risking bruising, swelling or chafing and then a skin infection. On his free days he goes without it unless they're going out, content that Michael has zero issues with it.
Every thing about Alex is something precious, from the way he sticks his fries in his milkshake to how he folds his shirts. Alex things, the daily boring stuff that actually makes up a person's life. They found compromise, like the fact that Michael loves cooking while Alex thinks a granola bar is a healthy meal. Alex does laundry on a Saturday and irons nearly everything. Michael wants to share the chores with utter glee. He wants to cook and argue over who does the dishes and have all the super boring domestic things, that seem dreamlike.
Okay, he lived in a trailer and he had his own routines, a different kind of chores mostly to keep said trailer in one piece, but having a house is different. There are so many things that Michael wants to learn about. Like the fireplace and the state of the gutters and what they're doing about the backyard.
But Alex stubborn to the core will not relinquish the leg, or stay still for longer than half an hour.
"Can I plant some sunflowers?" Michael asks after a sip of acetone, watching Alex work away on his laptop, dark brows furrowed and mouth set in an unhappy line. He's coding Michael thinks, but he doesn't ask. He's probably not supposed to ramble at Alex when he's working, imagines that during his war service these work sessions were done in tents or barracks with barely any light and tense silence.
The nature documentary is great, but much of a distraction from the burning. He rubs his calf trying to relieve some of the weird itchy but not, burning tightness. Alex watches him worriedly, then dark eyes lift to meet his startled, "Yeah. Sure."
Michael grinned happily, "Great! Ow. Fuck." He takes another sip. "Mrs Chavez can really shove it now. My contribution will really be home-grown."
Alex looks at him mystified. "Home-grown sunflowers?"
Michael coughs and thinks about it. "Yeah I suppose I could jar some sunflower butter. That really would burn."
Alex shifts in his chair and looks at him, granting him his full attention, clearly confused. "You're in a war with this Mrs Chavez?"
Michael snorts. "She is staying second place. I've won three times in a row. She even said I couldn't participate because industrial land is not home-grown and that a rasquache like me - and she means trailer-trash, shouldn't be allowed."
"Screw her. She doesn't want you...In a sunflower competition?" Alex asks.
"Yeah and the pie competition. My chess pie was way better than her blueberry. " Michael tells him warming to the subject. Its his soap drama hobby and he really loves it.
"What is chess pie?" Alex asks laughing and Michael loves the sound.
"Cherries, nuts and chocolate with chile." Micheal explains. "When I'm back to me, I'll make it for you."
"I can't believe you entered a pie competition and didn't tell me." Alex says eyes bright.
Michael loves him so much. He didn't think it was bizarre at all that Michael was making pies and growing sunflowers and had that dazzling look of excitement in his eyes that was as rare as a blood moon. "I didn't tell anyone. It was eight months ago now. Was pretty sure I was gonna embarrass myself. You should have seen the look in Izzy's face when I put down my pie and handed her a slice at the judging table!"
"What made you go for it?" Alex asked sweetly, handing him acetone when he winced.
"Sanders. Told me to stop being wuss. We'd just won first for our sunflowers." Michael laughs and winces at the sickly rattling sound he makes.
"Wait, that field near the junkyard is not a sunflower farm? That's yours?" Alex exclaims.
"Nah. Its Sanders. I just grow em' with him." Michael said snuffling. He is so tired he could just pass out, but he wants desperately to keep talking, to soak in this Alex-time.
"You've...never mentioned it before." Alex says slowly, rising from his seat to refill the kettle.
Uh-oh.
"The next competition is next month. I was hopin' you'd come with me. Its on a Sunday." The shoulders Michael can see from the couch are no less tense, though his voice is gentle when he replies.
"I'd love to go."
"My Mom loved sunflowers." He told the blanket but he could feel Alex's gaze on him. A peace offering and an answer.
"She did?" Alex asks surprised from his spot by the stove. "I didn't know that."
"Yeah me neither." Michael tells him not unkindly, "Until Thanksgiving year before last. Izzy went with Max and their parents...someplace...can't remember where and I spent the day with Walt. You know beer, football,"
"You hate football." Alex comments amused.
"I do but he always watches it and I made dinner." He shrugs and winces but fuck that hurt too, "Its something we do. Anyway, he talked bout' my Mom and it came up. You should make a sandwich."
"You're hungry?" Alex asks hopefully, obsessed with him drinking plenty of fluids and he's been fretting over Michael not eating for the last five hours.
"No. Can't face worshiping the trash can right now. Seriously we are bleaching that thing. No you need to eat. I can live vicariously through you." Michael tells him.
"I'm fine." Alex tells him for the millionth time.
"Yeah. And you didn't have breakfast and you didn't have any dinner. You're gonna get a migraine. So if you don't make that move Manes, this defunct alien will be."
'You are not defunct." Alex tells him sharply. "I love your powers and they are a part of your identity. I get that, but they are not all you are by a long fucking shot."
It soothed something raw in Michael that Alex was defending him and while he recognized this was fucking hard for Michael. In that typical Alex-like way, he wasn't letting Michael spiral over it.
He had spent nearly his entire life struggling with food. He had spent one week out of every four hungry even now, stretching meals as far as they could go and had found that Alex also had a complex relationship with eating. He was work-focused and that was one problem and didn't eat anything beyond a protein bar if he was alone. It was frustrating as all hell for Michael and stabbed a bit at his own issues. But, he was with Alex now and it was his job to look after his stubborn as all hell human.
Mealtimes had a stigma attachment to them for Alex, another holdover from his father's abusive ways. The answer was to make him something, because then Alex would without hesitation sit down with him, or go out together. Michael struggled with food security, always planning for tomorrow, Alex liked making sure that Michael was happy, hale and hearty in the now.
Still, he would have to be dead not to want to take care of his person.
"Bread, mayo, cheese, you've got Guerin chile chutney in the cupboard and my onion spread too. You also have Arturo's ice cream in the freezer if you don't want savory and an oven if you want it warm. I think we have leftover margarita chicken." He had made sure to move his kitchen contents into the house, filling the shelves and already considering with more space what to put there.
Izzy had already furnished Dallas with dishes and things and the guy couldn't cook. He was nearly as bad as Alex. Michael was working on that.
"You're not eating." Alex tells him plaintively like this explains his hunger strike.
"If I try the saltines, will you please make a damn sandwich? Do I have to make choo-choo noises?"
"You are insane." Alex tells him flatly, but his mouth quirks helplessly in amusement. "Fine."
He unwraps the pack of saltines, lays them on a plate and finally makes a sandwich. He chooses the onion spread and mayo, fishing out ham and cheese. Michael dutifully tries one and sips his new mug of tea. His stomach rolls and he swallows hard.
"So you were telling me? Sanders told you about the sunflowers and you decided to grow them?" Alex asks collecting the mugs, and kissing the top of his head. He literally punches the other pillow to get into an acceptable shape and stuffs it behind Michael. 'There. Better if you sit up."
"Its a human ritual isn't? Flowers on a grave? So you keep honoring the person you love?"
Alex nods mutely no doubt thinking of Mimi as he returns to the kitchen. "Well I couldn't go back there...its was the place of her torment you know?'
"God Michael." Alex says with feeling, "I would hate you going back there."
"Yeah. I was going to....felt like I should...but I couldn't make myself." He coughed miserably, 'Anyway, so I started growing them and...you know I can feel plants yeah? Like I can feel life, its energy even now when its all muted and off-kilter...well I can sort of prompt a plant to grow. My Mom could do the same. Walt said that Roy was gonna kick them out at first, because the crops had failed and he was gonna get the blame, so my Mom forced the crops during the drought."
"That's amazing."
"Yeah. Anyway, the first ones were okay and then the next ones were great, so Walt decided we were showing them. I planted so many varieties and Walt was happy you know? It made him happy and...we won. First prize. Then we did a few others, won them. Walt's got the ribbons in his office."
Alex comes back with his sandwich and his tea, kissing his head again. "I had no idea you were a Plant Daddy."
Michael laughs, which cracks badly but they ignore it.
"I was going to college for agricultural engineering. Plants are just so fascinating." It doesn't sting to say it now, even as he snuffles and his body can't decide if he's hot or cold. That was the pathway of another life, this is one he wants, with Alex looking at him like's the world and holding a badly constructed sandwich.
Alex takes a bite of his sandwich and Michael deliberately tries another saltine. He looks so beautiful in his ratty jeans and that white t-shirt, hair loose and unstyled. Michael loves him with his entire heart.
"So...other than sunflowers, what's your plan for our garden?" Alex asks tentatively, hope in his eyes that this means Michael is at home.
Michael sips his tea and when Alex's isn't looking adds some acetone, happiness bubbling up. "Well...I was thinking we could get a planter and I could grow some vegetables....I was thinkin'..."
Alex puts his plate back and Michael misses being able to move it for him, but he comes back and when Michael moves his legs, Alex doesn't go back to his laptop. He slides onto the couch and puts Michael's legs in his lap, reaching for his hand, lovely dark eyes fixed on Michael.