Chapter Text
It had been a long, long four weeks of recovery and there was still a longer ways to go.
Support was in no short supply, which was a surprise for someone like Guy Gardner. While bed bound for those many months, the man had received hundred of flowers, cards, and even visits from significant figures. What he tolerated the least were politicians paying a visit to him to better their image, and what he treasured most was the pile of get well soon cards the local school district sent. Mike was hesitant to admit that he’d seen Gardner get misty eyed over a crayons scrawl of his orange bowlcut.
And speaking of the devil. One of the casualties from Guys brush with death was his hair style. You see, the fire that consumed parts of his body had seared a bit of his scalp, and as a result the sides needed to be shaved down with the top trimmed for styling. Of course the Green Lantern kicked up a fuss and pouted like a child, but change is always inevitable. To make the best of the situation Mike put in the work to do the haircut, and made a nauseating show of how much more handsome Guy was and like the sucker he was, Guy bought it.
Terrific, meanwhile, was in his own road to recovery beside him. The moment of weakness he found in Guy’s near death experience was something he flayed, dissected, analyzed. It was when he confronted his own half-detachment to others and especially someone he had been leading on the longest. Was it the fear of being genuine about emotions, or the fear of getting to close to something that could easily be ripped away again? He was at a crossroads with someone that was remarkably patient and impatient at the same time. Maybe patient wasn’t the word, maybe sympathetic was a better one. After emptying an archive of therapy research of all possible information he needed to learn, it left him feeling just too hyperaware of himself. So Michael slipped the mask back on and went back to work.
Four weeks later, he arrived back at Guys shabby apartment to see him hobbling without any of the walking aids offered in his possession. Sure he was allowed to complete his recovery in the shelter of his studio apartment, but Maxwell wasn't going to let him get everything he wanted. Nurses were hired to visit him three times a day, and when he bothered them just a bit too much, Michael was dragged into visiting instead.
“That chuckle fuck doctor still wants me to use a wheelchair!” He’s snarling as Mike looped an arm in support. “Tell them all I can make it just fine on my own.”
It should be mentioned that Guys ring was kept close by, but its battery was absent to recharge it. After about two weeks of entertaining himself, Gardner had dwindled its battery to null. Mike rolled his eyes and helped him to the bathroom.
“I’ll let them know.” He said in a neutral tone to Guy, and mentally blocked out the sound of the man using the restroom. “Did you see the news about Wayne Enterprises?”
“Yeah!” Could be heard from the other side of the door. “They tried acquiring S.T.A.A.R labs, the fucks that about.”
Truthfully Michael tried digging into it until he couldn’t anymore. Something dark was lurking in the corners of Wayne enterprises, if the gaps in data and the concrete firewall was anything to go by. “No idea, but if they try dipping their toes into the metahuman debate it’d be asking for trouble. I can’t see Wayne getting involved with superheroes without it blowing up in his face.”
“Party boy Wayne?!” Guy yelled, then politely knocked the door as indication that he was done. Of course Michael didn’t catch any hand washing before that . “Isn’t he busy shilling out some new whiskey brand right now?”
Indeed. And the advertisements were unbearable. Michael opened the door and helped Guy to the edge of his bed. It left Guy a little winded because really, being bedbound had set him behind. He was getting soft, squishy, pudgy in the corners. Gone was most of the muscle man and hello doughboy Gardner. Something that drove him to pushing more in physical therapy, then driving the medical staff insane trying to resume his life as if he had no debilitating injury.
The only bonus to being flabby was how handsy it made Michael. When the hours were late, and the last visiting nurse made their leave, all they had was eachother uninterrupted. For a moment, it seemed like things were heading that route because Holt was holding Guys face with that weird stare he does sometimes. He’s not sure if Holts trying to etch Guys face into his memory, or if there's something else he wants to say but can’t. Before Guy can get a word in, he’s kissed on the corner of his lips.
“Brought you something.” Michael spoke as if he didn’t just kiss him. “Something you’re going to like.”
“Shii,” Gardner mumbles. “Bringing yourself was good enough babe.” And then his hands hover out to try and grab Michael as he retreated to the hallway outside his room. Impulse made him almost get up, but he’s fallen one too many times to know better. “Where ya going?”
It wasn’t long before Mikey brought in a duffel bag. There was oil stains and grease soaked in its corners from heavy use, but it had style. The straps were black and red with ‘Fair Play’ embroidered on and that Terrific T on the side. Whatever’s in there must be heavy as hell with the way he’s hauling it over his shoulder. One quick unzip and Guy's jaw dropped to the floor.
The limb is metal with a thin silicone covering. There’s sleek metal inlay in parts and green trim for flow and aesthetic. He’s already bouncing on the edge of his bed to get the thing on and it causes Michael to place a hand on his shoulder to steady him.
“Come on man,” Michael said in an amused tone. “Don’t get yourself injured again here.”
The hand on his shoulder slid over to his chest, and gently pushed him. Guy in turn, laid on his back with a goofy grin on his face. He was so ready for this.
Cool hands pull his baggy shirt back and a draft kicked up over exposed skin. A thin harness is strapped around Guys waist and it doesn't dig in too bad. The one complaint he had in mind so far were all the straps to keep the damn thing fastened to his hips. There’s a plate slotted over where his missing leg should start, and it's got all these weird little details he can’t make heads or tails of. He’s sure Holt had it all figured out for him in making such an intricate gift. The real mystery being why he made it when he could substitute it all with the ring.
Then the real hunk of metal is hefted up to the bed and Guy’s still squirming. Holt lets it sit propped up and his patient’s risen up halfway to wrap his arm around his shoulders. Keeping himself mostly steady, but holding onto Michael with intimacy. They’re both breathing close and say little else as the legs scooted closer. Little touches of static electricity arc from leg to plate, mesmerizing Guy and Holt, who’s watching his reaction. Once it moved just a tad more, the limb locked into the plate and Guy yelped in surprise. Michael couldn't keep the brief smile off his own face.
The metal knee kicked up out of impulse; a good sign that the nervous system accepted it. He noticed its immediate flaws: The delay it moves with, how this leg is thicker then the flesh one because it was modeled from before he was injured namely. Little things like that which embarrassed him now. To compensate, he started listing its benefits hoping Guy wouldn’t notice.
“This leg’s water proof, space grade, radiation-hardened, dishwasher safe, and the weight can be adjusted per comfort.” He’s prattling on. “Charge it when you sleep, and keep the damn thing cleaned. I'm talking about clear and polished with no funky smell, not just a half-assed wipe down. If it's still functional a month later I’ll even try to integrate it with touch sensitivity and temperature sensors.”
It's at this proximity that Holt realized that they were pressed flush together as well. With Guy holding onto Michael with wanting and Michael supporting in turn. He can piece together that half the words went in one ear and out the other when he see Guys been staring at his lips.
“Yeah, yeah.” He croaked, before wrapping his legs around Holt. “Love you too, T.”
Warm mouths met in a long, heated kiss. He wasn’t going to push him away anymore. It felt good being understood like this.