Work Text:
It starts with the fridge.
“Alex… why is there a hole where my fridge should be?” Morgan asked. Their voice projected from the kitchenette.
Alex was ready for the question. They’d heard the abrupt stop of Morgan’s steps and the long-suffering sigh, even without their enhanced hearing.
“Um… yeah about that…” Alex started. “Just know that I’ve already ordered a new one and the contractor should be here in about 10 minutes to start patching the wall.”
“Great— still haven’t answered the question though.” By this time, Morgan’s made their way to the living room. They’re standing in front of the couch with one hand on their hip. “What happened? Did the toaster scare you and you body slammed my appliance through the sheetrock?”
“No…” Alex mumbled. It’s not often that the super-villain is sheepish. Morgan tends to bring out that side of them. “I was hungry. I made some hot pockets. In the process, I may have accidentally shut the freezer with a little more force than usual.”
“Huh— super strength must be a bitch. Remind me not to like high-five you or something. You might send me flying!” Morgan laughed as they walked off, completely missing the flash of devastation that flickered on Alex’s face.
—
It’s fine. It’s completely fine. Alex has total control of their powers.
They definitely haven’t stared at the ceiling for the past two nights, unable to sleep, unable to stop their mind from creating nightmare after nightmare after nightmare.
Morgan— gasping for air, ribs fractured from the hug Alex just gave him.
Morgan— skull caved in after Alex tried to brush a curl behind their ear.
Morgan— shouting in pain as his arm hangs limp, fractured to pieces from a high five. A fucking high five.
—
Having not actually slept, Alex was up before Morgan. They made a quick breakfast, poured their favorite beverage, and settled on the couch ready to move on from the previous nights’ spiral.
The smell of bacon and syrup quickly woke Morgan. They shuffled out of the room in dark green sweatpants and an oversized Taylor Swift shirt. It was oddly charming.
“Hey, you okay dude? You look like you have’t slept in like a week.” Morgan asked. He took a quick step over to Alex to get a better view.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Usually you’re the one lecturing me about sleep schedule this and circadian rhythm that. No offense dude, but you look like shit.” Morgan said.
“I said I’m fine.” Alex’s grip squeezed slightly around the mug in his hands.
“Really? Those bags under your eyes say otherwise. Are you ok—“
Crack! The mug shattered in Alex’s hands.
Ceramic cut into their flesh.
It’s a shame, Alex thought. They liked that mug. Morgan helped them pick it out from the thrift store. It was light blue covered in vintage frog illustrations, each with a speech bubble of expletives so obscure even Alex hadn’t heard of them all.
They heard the constant drip drip drip of blood falling to join the puddle already seeping into Morgan’s carpet.
Alex just stared.
Blood.
Morgan.
Morgan— broken and bleeding on the floor.
Morgan.
Alex…
Alex?
“Alex!” Morgan was right there. Inches away from Alex’s face.
Alex jerked back— not in surprise but in caution. If you accidentally break your favorite mug, what happens when you break your favorite human? Alex’s brain seemed to taunt them with the thought.
“Alex? Fucking hell dude. How much of that blood is refreshing beverage? Tell me it’s a lot 'cause if that’s all yours then we have a problem.”
“It’s fine.” Alex said. Their tone was flat, emotionless. “I’ll replace your carpet.”
Alex moved to stand up. They sidestepped Morgan pretty easily, keeping a wide berth out of an abundance of caution. Alex could feel their healing factor closing the wounds on their hands. It’s fine most of the time— convenient even— unless you had actual pieces of ceramic embedded in your palm.
“I don’t care about the carpet, Alex. I know how to get bloodstains out of my own fucking apartment.”
Alex just hummed in response.
Morgan gave another one of their sighs. Alex could practically hear the accompanying eye roll. But, Morgan still followed Alex into the kitchenette. “Are you being mind-controlled? Did that blast from the Chartreuse Candelabra have side effects I don’t know about? Were you infected with a virus? What is happening?”
Alex managed to pull out the first-aid kit from under the sink without getting too much blood on it. They grabbed the forceps and began to awkwardly clear the broken mug pieces from their skin. “No. No. No. Nothing,” they answered.
“Okay first of all, hand those over. This is just painful to watch,” Morgan bullied the forceps out of Alex’s bloodied hand and gestured for Alex to cooperate. Satisfied, Morgan made quick work of the wounds, carefully removing the broken ceramic, sanitizing, and wrapping each cut. It was unnecessary. Alex’s skin was already knitting itself together, but Morgan didn’t care. “Second of all, this whole one-word-response bullshit ain’t gonna fly. We don’t have to talk about emotions or bring up tragic backstories. I just want to know if you’re safe.”
Ha! I’m safe. Are you? Can you ever be safe around me? Alex’s brain provided.
“Is this about the fridge? You know I’m not actually mad about that, right? It’s like the third time we’ve replaced it anyway. Your contractors did a good job with the repairs too. It’s good as new, better even. So there’s nothing to worry about with that.” Morgan’s words rushed over Alex.
“It’s not the fridge… not exactly.” Alex started.
Morgan moved to say something, but cut off the thought and waited for Alex to continue.
“I’m… angry… with myself for not maintaining control when I should have.”
“So it is about the fridge?”
“No—“ Alex sighed. Their bandaged hands were still between them and Morgan. Alex moved them away. Keep your distance. Create a barrier.
“Oh…” Morgan was smart. Of course they put it together. “You think you might hurt me,” they laughed.
Laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Alex demanded. Here they were, opening up just like Morgan wanted, only to get laughed in the face. Unbelievable.
“It’s just hilarious that you think you could hurt me.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me,” Morgan laughed again.
“Morgan, you’re a squishy human with the pain tolerance of a toddler. I could break your spine with a snap of my fingers and here you are, completely unbothered.”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“Unbelievable— how can you be so sure that you’re safe around me?” Alex asked. They tried to keep the desperation out of their voice. Give me an answer. Reassure me.
“I mean, you said it yourself: ‘I won’t let you die.’” Morgan said. They smiled slightly remembering the conversation a few weeks back. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not worried because I know deep down, you can’t hurt me. You won’t let yourself.”
Alex’s gaze darkened. “Coby, the yellow lab from Metropolis Zoo who helped socialize and care for anxiety-ridden cheetahs for nine years, suddenly passed away this morning.”
“Ah!” Morgan’s voice wobbled. “Okay! Point proven— you can still cause emotional damage. Well played.”
Morgan grabbed Alex’s wrist and dragged them towards the door. Alex relished in the touch for a moment.
“Come on— for that you’re helping me steal pet supplies for the local shelter. Maybe we’ll find you another mug. Maybe we’ll even adopt a dog— who knows.”