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Morgan is abruptly pulled away from his bank vault schematics (elaborate planning is the key to a successful heist) by a loud clatter from the kitchen. For a brief moment he wonders which hero has managed to break into his apartment, and just how screwed he is, but then he hears a very distinct growl of frustration.
Oh. Alex is awake again. What are they doing in the kitchen though?
Making toast, it turns out. Morgan finds his friend glaring daggers at the bowl on the floor, a bowl that was previously located in the cupboard next to the bread.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” The sudden movement of Alex’s head swiveling around is apparently too much in their current state, if their white-knuckled grip on the counter is anything to go by. They’ve been running a high fever over the last couple of days, and are therefore a lot more sluggish than usual, which means that Morgan is actually able to sneak up on them. He still hasn’t gotten over how weird that feels. Who would expect a supervillain to get this floored by a case of mono?
“I was hungry,” they grumble.
“You know, you could have just asked for my help?” Morgan gives Alex a pointed look as he bends down to pick up the bowl and put it back in the cupboard.
“I can do it myself. I’m not —” Alex starts coughing, covering their mouth with their arm and scrunching their eyes together in pain.
“Yesterday you were struggling to even stand up for long enough to get to the bathroom. No one expects you to be up and about already.”
“I do.”
“Let me rephrase that. No one with actual experience of being sick expects you to be up and about already.”
Alex is holding on to the counter with both hands, jaw clenched and breathing heavily. Morgan seizes the opportunity to grab the bread from in front of them and places two slices into the toaster, which gives off an electric hum as it starts doing its thing.
“I was just about to do that.” Alex’s voice sounds like they’ve been gurgling sand.
“Yeah well, I remember the last time you tried to use the toaster. If you get equally jumpy while you’re like this you could end up hurting yourself. Or accidentally setting fire to the kitchen.”
“I told you I was sorry about those towels.”
Morgan waves away their comment.
“Yeah yeah, I know. But since I actually like this toaster, I’d prefer it if you didn’t incinerate it. So why don’t you leave the toast-making to me?”
Alex frowns and coughs briefly.
“Fine,” they mutter hoarsely.
“How about you sit down over there,” Morgan gestures to the table, “while I make us some coffee, ok?”
Alex begrudgingly agrees, collapsing into one of the rickety chairs. Their energy drains very quickly these days, which is part of the reason why they’re staying at Morgan’s place disguised as his very harmless roommate. Neither of them wants the heroes, or Alex’s minions for that matter, to see them this vulnerable. What if someone tried to take advantage of it? Morgan would never forgive himself if he let that happen.
***
By the time Morgan places a steaming mug in front of their face, Alex has been taking a (semi-) unexpected nap against the kitchen table for several minutes. They flinch awake and blink rapidly trying to get their bearings.
“You’re in the kitchen,” Morgan reminds them, never entirely certain of the extent of Alex’s fever-induced brain fog. “And that mug’s hot. Don’t burn yourself.”
Alex, who has already reached up and grabbed the mug, winces and pulls their hand back with a hiss.
“I know that usually wouldn’t be a problem for you, but your reflexes aren’t the best right now so it’s probably best to not risk any more injuries.”
Alex frowns and takes a careful sip of their coffee, deliberately not touching the mug with their palm.
“I hate this,” they mutter.
“I know.” Hearing Alex actually admit it out loud is unusual though. This whole ‘feeling weak as a kitten’ must be getting on their nerves even more than Morgan had realized. “I’m sorry. It should be over soon.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you’ve never let anything hold you down before, so why would you start now?”
“I’ve also, as you pointed out, never been sick before.” Alex sniffles and blinks up at the ceiling, and the next words out of their mouth are so quiet that Morgan almost doesn’t hear them. “What if it doesn’t go away? What if this is the new normal?”
“It’s not.”
“But what if —”
“It’s not,” Morgan interrupts, more firmly. “You’ll be back to bossing around minions and torturing heroes in no time. This is just temporary.”
“But —”
“And if it’s not, then we’ll… burn that bridge when we get to it, ok?”
Alex takes another sip of their coffee. Then they nod shortly.
“Ok.”
***
Once they get back to the bedroom, with Alex leaning on Morgan for support and pretending that it’s not necessary, Alex settles back against the pillows with a soft thunk and Morgan throws a blanket to them from where he’s sitting at the side of the bed before grabbing another one for himself.
“How are you feeling now?”
Alex has started to unfold the blanket and drape it over themselves.
“I’m fine.”
Morgan raises an eyebrow and gives Alex a pointed look. Alex sighs.
“Ok, so maybe I’m not.”
Morgan looks down at the blanket in his lap, fingers fiddling with the frills at the edge.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. Alex must have caught the tone in his voice, because they nudge his arm.
“About what?”
“All of… this.” Morgan gestures at Alex, who continues to look confused. The fever is really messing with their otherwise quick thinking.
“I don’t understand.”
Morgan throws his head back against the headboard and has to flinch slightly when he accidentally hits it too hard.
“It’s my fault you’re sick, ok?!” he blurts out. “I shouldn’t have kissed you at that stakeout. I’m sorry.”
“You already apologized for that, remember?” Alex’s voice is getting a bit drowsy, like they’re close to sleep. Which is good. They need all the rest they can get. “Also what has that got to do with anything?”
If Morgan hadn’t already been worried for his friend’s safety he would have punched them hard in the arm. As it stands, he settles for a facepalm.
“It’s called ‘kissing disease’ for a reason. If I’d known this would be the consequence — I would have tried to think of something else. Something that didn’t mess things up this much.”
Alex looks up at the ceiling. Morgan is getting ready to apologize again (how many more times before the guilt stops gnawing at him?), but Alex beats him to it by speaking instead.
“I really don’t think that’s how this works.”
“Well, how else do you explain it?”
Alex shrugs.
“Really crappy timing?” Morgan gives them a blank look. “And a very stubborn virus? I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.”
“That’s exactly my —“
“And neither are you. So stop blaming yourself.” Alex yawns and rolls over on their side, bringing their head closer to Morgan’s shoulder. They close their eyes, pulling the edge of the thick blanket up to their face as they get ready to take another nap.
“Are you just telling me what you think I need to hear?”
Alex opens one of their eyes, peering up at him.
“Maybe? Is it working?”
“Unfortunately,” Morgan admits.
“Good.” Alex’s smile is a welcome familiar one. It’s the same one they always smile when they’ve defeated the heroes. The traces of it remain even as their facial muscles start to relax.
Eventually Alex’s breathing evens out as they doze off to sleep. Morgan knows he should get back to his bank schematics, but Alex is curled up next to him like an overgrown cat and he doesn’t want to risk waking them up. Maybe he should seize this opportunity to take a nap too?