Chapter Text
Micah takes two faltering steps forward.
Jane smiles at him, a rare genuine smile, then turns to Annie, Jed, and Octavius. “Alright, c’mon. Out.”
Micah barely pays them any attention as they leave the bar. He’s still staring at this impossible man, standing in front of him like a miracle given form.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the old Catholic part of him feels like he ought to pray.
“Hey,” Luke says again. He comes closer, enough that Micah can see the fine wisps of hair on his face and the concern in his eyes. “Hey, sweetheart. You alright?”
Micah hugs him. He can’t resist the urge anymore; it’s finally outweighed the fear that his arms will go right through him. He presses his face into the crook of his neck and breathes in. He’s not exactly the same – he smells new, not like the leather and musk he used to remember – but it’s unmistakably Luke.
Emotions he can’t name start to bubble in his stomach. The years of grief threaten to boil over, but he won’t cry. He won’t. This is a happy moment, dammit, and he’s not going to ruin it by breaking down on Luke.
“It’s okay,” Luke murmurs in his ear. “I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. It took me a little longer than I’d’ve liked, but I’m here now, alright? I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He scratches lightly at the back of Micah’s head and holds him tight with the other arm.
“I’m going to ruin your shirt,” he mutters.
“S’okay. I’ve had worse.”
Micah feels it in Luke's chest when he laughs, and it gets him crying even harder. He had never thought he would get to have that again. It’s not a pretty cry; he sobs almost violently into Luke’s shoulder. He’s pretty sure his nose is running onto the stiff new leather of his vest.
“Micah,” Luke says. “I need you to tell me somethin’. I know Jed was avoiding it, and I know you ain’t gonna lie to me.”
He nods. It’s true, he won’t. He can’t.
“How long have I been gone?”
Micah lifts his head off his shoulder for the first time since he came back. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand – ew – and looks him in the eye.
“Years,” he whispers.
Luke is stunned. “Years? No, that – that can’t be right. I was only gone for a couple of weeks! It hasn’t— really, years?”
Micah nods. “We didn’t track it real well, because it was almost impossible to remember what day it was, but we think it was about thirty years that we were locked in. Then it’s been at least one more since we got a new night guard.”
“What – okay.” Luke stammers a little before he gets the words under him.” You’re gonna have to fill me in on all the rest of that, but thirty years?”
Micah nods again and readjusts his hold behind Luke’s back. He should be polite and let him go, but he’s not going to. Not until he has to.
“Oh, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, but—” He shakes his head and sighs.
“It’s okay,” Micah says.
“No, it’s not. I know you. I know it wasn’t as easy as you’re trying to make it out to be.”
Micah presses his lips together and doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Luke is right, of course, but if he says anything, he’s going to break again, and who knows how long it would take to put himself back together?
Luke looks him over with an unreadable expression on his face. “Hey,” he says softly.
He looks up.
Luke kisses him. He kisses the pressure out of the set of his mouth, the tension out of his shoulders. He pulls them together, so Micah can feel both their chests rise and fall with their breaths, and holds him tightly enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s going to unwind so much.
Micah sags as soon as they separate.
“Whoa,” Luke says, catching him. He smiles. “I always knew you were a drama queen, but really, swooning for me?”
He kisses him again, just quickly. “You wish.”
Something catches his eye as he draws back.
“Something on my face?”
“Yeah.” He licks his thumb and rubs at the spot on his jaw, but it doesn’t budge.
Luke turns his head. “What is it?”
“It’s—”
No fucking way.
“It’s silver.”
It is, in fact, a perfect silver mirror of the scar on Micah’s jaw, the one he’d given himself while shaving too carelessly for Luke’s funeral.
“Whose is it?” Luke wonders.
“Mine,” Micah says, and he kisses him once more for good measure.