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“Breathe through it. Come on, just give me a few more breaths.”
Michael frowns as he comes around the side of the cabin. He’s not expecting what he sees. A very attractive woman is standing over Alex, pressing both her hands onto his leg. Alex is laying on top of a massage table, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and hugging his other leg into his chest. He’s obviously not very comfortable in the position but Michael has a feeling the sweat that darkens his t-shirt and sticks out on his forehead has a lot more to do with the weights and exercise ball that are resting nearby. The woman doesn’t let him up as he breathes and finally she relaxes, pressing her fingers along the sides of his kneecap.
“How are you feeling?” She asks him.
“Like crap,” Alex says, releasing his leg.
Michael feels his frown deepen. Alex admitting physical pain is rare. Almost as rare as him being in shorts. Alex was never a shorts kind of guy, but it’s taken Michael longer than he wishes to realize that Alex isn’t comfortable showing his prosthetic. He’s actually more comfortable showing his missing leg, not the device he needs to walk. The injury is preferable to the help. It’s a quintessentially Alex thing to do. The woman glances over and their eyes lock. Surprise flares on her face but she immediately shifts her weight. Given the amount of pressure she’s clearly capable of putting, Michael has few doubts she’s prepared to kick his ass. The change in pressure has Alex pushing himself up and following her gaze. He too immediately goes defensive, pushing himself into a sitting position.
“Guerin,” he says.
Michael raises his hand and slinks out of the shadows he definitely wasn’t hiding in. Of course Alex would be doing all the exercises and fighting to get better. Alex isn’t the type who would let a major life altering injury siderail him for a decade. Michael wishes that he hadn’t left his hat in his car. Or was late instead of early. There’s nothing to do but come stand in front of them.
“I’m Michael,” he introduces himself.
“Lily,” she says, “I’d shake your hand but I’m lotioned up,” she looks at Alex, “back down. We’re not done.” Alex’s face falls but he lays back, fighting to keep his face straight as Lily goes back to manipulating the limb, “so how do you know Alex?” She asks.
“We grew up together,” Alex cuts in, “we reconnected after I got back.”
Quantifying what they are hasn’t exactly been a strong suit for either of them. Friends isn’t adequate, lovers isn’t honest. Actually the only thing they’ve ever truly named each other where the other can hear is family. Michael is okay with that, except when other people ask for an explanation. Family is a weird word for both of them. And he’s not sure how to tell Alex he’s in love with him and also refer to him as family. So ambiguity is a great fall back.
“What are you doing?” He asks.
“Stretching him out,” Lily says, “Alex?”
“I overcompensate on my leg,” Alex says. He’s flung an arm over his eyes, “and the muscles get tight.”
“Oh,” he says.
He knows Alex is missing a leg. He knows it every second of every day. Alex takes responsibility for going to war but Michael knows he was a catalyst for that decision. It’s hard not to blame himself for Alex’s predicament. And Alex who is obsessed with being strong enough—whatever that means—refuses to let Michael feel guilty about it. Refuses to be treated differently about it.
“I’m around a lot. Can I help?” He asks abruptly. Alex’s arm rises and Lily looks at both of them, “I’m a mechanic,” he adds, “I’m good with my hands.”
Lily bits down on her lip. Michael realizes that she’s waiting for Alex to say something. That’s good and consent is important but Michael can feel the awkwardness. Shit he didn’t want to make it awkward. Just when he’s about to apologize and make up an excuse to get the hell out of there, Alex drops his forearm back over his eyes.
“His hands are freakishly strong,” he says.
“Stronger than mine?” Lily asks, pretending to be offended. Alex nods, “I’m going to remember that,” she tells him and produces hand sanitizer from her pocket. Michael shoves his hands out and cleans them, “I’m just going to show you how to assist Alex stretch.”
Michael nods and focuses in as she explains and points where to put his hands. Or he tries to focus. He hasn’t exactly been allowed to touch Alex in a really long time. Which, to be fair, he more than deserves given his behavior. He’s been clear that he’ll go as slow as needed, but he can’t pretend it’s not difficult to keep from touching him. Especially when they are right next to each other more and more. Alex will sit next to him, but Alex isn’t big on showing a lot of skin. He likes being covered. They both do. It’s fucking twisted and they both know why, even now that there’s no one to put marks on their skin.
His fingers hesitate only a moment before he puts them onto Alex’s knee. He’s under no illusions that Alex is suddenly going to communicate what hurts, but his plan of carefully watching is thrown for a loop when Alex’s breath catches. Michael knows from him that his body temperature is unusually hot. But he thinks if it wasn’t, Alex would probably know his hands better than anyone’s. It’s weird to see all ten of his fingers neatly flattened against Alex’s skin and when he’s directed to put his hands on top of each other, it’s his left hand he presses to Alex’s flesh.
“Now gently apply pressure,” she instructs. Michael slowly leans his weight onto his hands, “a little more,” she says, “you’ve got a long way to go until you hurt him.”
Michael ducks his head, embarrassed at how wrong she is before he forces himself not to read more into this than what is actually happening. He pushes his weight firmly unto his hands and Alex makes a noise. Before he can jump back though, Lily holds out a hand and directs him to stay there. She takes Alex’s other leg and carefully manipulates it, until Alex makes another noise.
“Breathe,” she says to Alex, “deep breaths.”
“I hate both of you,” he says.
“We’re going to hold this here,” she says and glances at him, “you know that’s—“
“Alex for ‘ouch’?” He offers.
Alex raises his arm to shoot him a truly venomous look that Michael answers with a smile before Alex groans and throws his arm back over his eyes. Most of his weight is on his palms. Before he can think about it, Michael gently strokes his pinky down Alex’s leg, doing his best to time it with his breathing. He’s not sure if it helps but eventually Alex relaxes into the stretch and he almost loses his grip when he feels his muscles go. He definitely jumps and Lily smiles and Alex presses his lips together in an effort not to laugh.
“Sorry—“ he starts and looks down at the leg under his hands with confusion, trying to remember everything he read. Reading about it only works if he doesn’t think it’s Alex.
“It’s just the muscles,” Alex says. Michael looks up and nods, “it feels weird,” he says, “I’m not used to it yet.”
“You will be,” Lily assures Alex, a smile passing between them.
It occurs to him that Lily doesn’t know if he’ll be around. That it’s very possible that he won’t be. Or it is on paper anyway. He has no intention of not being there until Alex is used to everything and long, long past that. Until him not having a leg is more normal than when he had two. Or they figure out how to get Max to regrow him one or something.
He plans on being there. That’s the thing.
“Why don’t you roll over?” Lilly says.
Michael mourns the loss of contact as soon as he has to take his hands off of Alex. He tells himself the shiver that works up Alex’s body is just because of the temperature change. Slowly and steady, that’s what he told himself. He watches as Lily tightly rolls up a towel and slides it under Alex’s hips as he rolls over. Michael’s usually distracted by other parts of Alex’s anatomy when he’s rolled over. The back of his leg is smooth. If Michael thinks too hard about it, he gets a headache from thinking the back of Alex’s leg is on the front of it now. Lily gently supports the leg until Alex taps the table.
“Here, support this while I get another towel,” she says, “don’t move it up.”
Michael carefully takes the weight of Alex’s leg. He glances back to see Alex turned and looking at him. Their eyes move and he tries to smile. But he can feel that thing starting between them again. Son of a bitch, he can tell Alex feels it too. He watches his throat work and his lips part as he tries to calm himself down. Physical therapy is not the time for it. For this tension, for everything else. Michael makes sure he’s got a good one handed support on Alex’s leg and moves his other hand up. Alex’s eyes widened.
“Do not—“ he starts.
“Are you still?” Michael asks.
“Guerin,” he warns.
Michael lightly scratches the back of Alex’s leg, right under the knee.
As it turns out, Alex is still ticklish.
At least for him.
Michael doesn’t push it but Alex still snorts with laughter when he tickles under his leg. If Michael wasn’t aware that Alex is probably the only person who can get him to be ticklish, he wouldn’t think much of it. But most people skimming their fingers up his sides or asking if he’s ticklish are dismissed. But when Alex does it accidentally, the sensation is unmistakable. Giggling isn’t something he does around people either.
“Okay okay,” Lily breaks it up with a smile, “put his leg down,” she says and slides the other towel under his hips, “I’m guessing you two got into a lot of trouble in school.”
“I did,” Alex says, “he got me out of it.”
“So you were the well behaved one,” she says looking at Michael. He shrugs, “you’ve been very helpful.”
“I’d do anything to help Alex,” he says without thinking.
Lily smiles and Michael looks at her for as long as he can before he finally has to look at Alex. There’s something soft in his eyes that Michael hasn’t seen for a very long time when he looks at him. And something in his own chest seems to open at the sight of it. He shambles closer to the front of the massage table. As long as he lives he’ll never forget when Alex reaches out and catches his hand. Lily’s sigh makes both of them look back at her.
“I’m sorry, that’s just—“ she sighs again, “I’m a romantic. You two make a very cute couple.”
Alex squeezes his hand.
“Thanks,” Michael says.
“Let’s see if we can get this leg a bit higher with this great moral support,” Lily says coming back to business. Michael tightens his grip on Alex’s hand as he groans. He leans down so he’s closer to Alex’s head, which is cushioned on his forearm.
“Breathe,” he says.
“I hate you,” Alex says.
“I know,” Michael tells him, covering his other hand with his free one, “but do it anyway.”
So Alex breathes.