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Michael’s an early riser only when he wants to. He has no problem getting out of bed if he absolutely must, but the natural instinct of his body is to burrow under the bedcovers, to let that warmth seep in, to close his eyes for five more minutes. He loves basking in the stripes of sun that shyly slither in through the blinds, knowing nothing is expected of him in that fleeting, peaceful moment when he’s still half-asleep. And more than anything, Michael loves morning cuddles with his husband, when Alex is warm and pliant, eyes hazy with sleep and tongue so loose he might slip something worthy of a teasing response from Michael.
This particular morning Michael wakes up alone. It isn’t unusual by any means – Alex is an early riser by habit, being schooled into it since childhood. There are many mornings when he manages to slip out of bed way before Michael. Today is different, however – Alex is still on his week-long work trip Deep Sky had roped him into.
The trip had come with the solemn promise that Alex would not be incommunicado. That had been crucial for Michael. The weather-balloon fiasco still haunts them both, regardless of it being the first piece in a chain reaction that had led to their wedding. And now that there’s also a five-year-old waiting for him at home, Alex is definitely not allowed to disappear into any liminal spaces.
If Michael were to reach for his phone, he would probably see a good morning text from Alex. Right now, he’s just too lazy, limbs still sleep-heavy. You have him back tomorrow, Michael thinks, running his hand across the space where Alex should be.
Right when Michael is on the edge of falling back asleep – he’s been mentally pressing the snooze button for about half an hour – the door opens, creaking, and the patter of tiny feet enters the room.
Asher is an early riser. Not as masochistic as Alex – who gets up at the ass crack of dawn even when Michael’s arms try to pull him back and demand more cuddles – but definitely up way too early each day. Michael can’t tell if it’s something Asher has picked up from Alex or if he’s just naturally one of those people.
Determinedly, Asher crosses the room and hauls himself into the bed, landing on top of Michael. “Dad?” he whispers. Michael suppresses a smile and pretends to sleep. It’s hard when Asher starts patting his face, nearly poking his eye out. “Dad? Dad, wake up!”
Michael hums, enfolding Asher with his arms. “Good morning,” he says, yawning.
“Dad?” Asher repeats.
“Mm?”
“Guess what animal am I?” Asher chirps excitedly.
Michael finally peeks at Asher, who’s staring at him with his wide azure eyes, hair matted on one side, poking up on the other. Michael runs his fingers through it, pretending to be thinking hard. Asher has been obsessed with an animal fact book Alex had brought him from the library. They’ve been reading it together every night.
Yesterday, Asher had been a porcupine and a day before that, a seal. Michael had sent Alex a video of Asher gliding on his stomach on the floor, imitating flippers with his hands. Later, when they’d talked on the phone, Alex had told he’d laughed at the video in front of his co-workers so hard tears had come out of his eyes.
“You’re my phoenix,” Michael says, poking Asher’s squishy cheek.
“Those aren’t real,” Asher scoffs, swatting Michael’s hand away. “Don’t be silly, Dad! Guess!”
“Alright,” Michael mutters, threading his fingers through Asher’s hair again. It’s so soft, like silk. “Can you give me a hint, how about that? Don’t have a lot to work with.”
Alex is better at this game. Michael could watch them forever, Asher sitting in Alex’s lap as Alex tries to guess what’s on their son’s mind.
“Are you a monkey?” Giggle. “No!” “Are you a penguin?” Giggle. “No!” “Hmm, are you an elephant?” Giggle. “No, no, no! I’m small!” “Ah, now I get it. You’re a bunny!” “Yes!”
Honestly, Michael suspects Asher doesn’t think ahead and just goes with whatever is suggested. It’s still adorable.
“A hint?” Asher mutters, worrying his lip. “Hmm?” Then he lets out a roar and dissolves into giggles. “Guess what am I?
“Dunno, but you need to brush your teeth,” Michael says with honesty.
“Just guess, Dad,” sighs Asher.
It takes a while for Michael to open his mouth. Sue him – he seems to instantly forget every animal that happens to roar.
“A lion?”
“Nooooo!”
“A tiger, then?”
“I’m not a cat.”
“Wolf?”
“Wolves howl, they don’t roar!”
“Well – that must mean you’re a bear?”
“Yes,” Asher decides.
“That what you are today?” Michael hums, hugging Asher closer. “You’re my bear cub?”
“Yes,” Asher repeats. Then, he looks wistfully at the empty side of the bed and states with a small voice, “Daddy’s coming home tomorrow.”
“Yeah, he comes home to us tomorrow,” Michael says, kissing Asher’s hairline. “You miss him?”
“Uh huh.”
“I miss him too,” Michael whispers. He’s not clingy, he’s not, but a week without Alex is a week too long. Sure, they’ve been calling twice a day, but Michael longs to feel Alex’s touch in his skin.
“I miss him more,” Asher says.
“I’m sure,” Michael replies. Him missing a spouse is in a different league than Asher missing a father. Even when he has two of those. “Hey, bear cub? Why don’t we go have some breakfast and then call Daddy? I bet he’s missing us just as much as we miss him.”
“Okay,” Asher agrees, breathing into Michael’s face.
Michael winces. “But first we’ll brush your teeth.”
--
“Close your eyes. Are they closed now?”
“Mm… Yes, Dad.”
Michael glances down at his son, watching his golden eyelashes fan across his cheeks. A stray ray of sunlight travels across the piano keys and splits Asher’s face. Asher sniffs, nose twitching. “Okay, here we go,” Michael mutters and scoots a little closer to Alex’s keyboard, guiding Asher’s hands to hover over it.
“What are we gonna play?” Asher asks impatiently, squirming.
“Hold still,” Michael tells him. He picks his brain for a song, then reaches out with his telekinesis to play a note. “Can you repeat that, Ash?”
Asher’s face scrunches up just slightly. Then, the same note rings out.
“Good! Very good!” Michael praises and plays another note, and then another, Asher copying him skillfully.
“Twinkle twinkle little star?” Asher finally recognizes the song. “Dad, that’s so boring.”
“That’s only the warm-up,” Michael promises. “Can you play it for me from the top?”
“Okay,” Asher whispers. He fumbles a little in the middle of the song but gets it otherwise perfectly.
“Good job,” Michael says, kissing Asher’s cheek.
Asher giggles. “Tickles…”
“Alright, Ash, ready?” Asher nods, bumping the back of his head against Michael’s chest. Michael considers which song they’re going to play. His lips bow with a smile when he makes his pick, a song Alex had been writing that he was on the cusp of figuring out before he left.
Asher lets out a delighted squeal when he hears the first sequence of notes. “This is Daddy’s song,” he says.
“Yes, bear cub, it is. Can you play it for me?”
The first notes ring out beautifully. Michael wishes Alex were home to witness the moment. It had been his idea, after all, to teach Asher to play the piano with telekinesis so he can fine-tune his skills.
“Good, keep going,” Michael whispers, encouraging, when Asher falters a little. Asher lets out a little whine and a wave of frustration emanates from him, as the notes fail to come out in the correct order. Michael shushes him gently, rubbing his chest. “Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to be perfect. You can always try again.”
Asher slams the keys, emitting a cacophonous sound. “I’m tired!” he complains, voice distressed.
“Tired?” Michael wonders out loud. “Did you not sleep well?” But Asher had been so lively in the morning…
Asher whimpers and then, he starts coughing loudly, his small body jolting with every hack.
Michael winces when droplets of spit land on the keys. “Hey,” he says, instantly worried. “Ash, what’s wrong? Did I push you too hard? I’m sorry.” The sudden guilt is eating Michael alive. He should’ve noticed Asher was getting uncomfortable. His hand makes its way to Asher’s forehead. He feels warm; warmer than he should be. “Ash, when did you start feeling unwell?” Michael asks, back stiffening, arm curling protectively around Asher.
Asher turns around and looks up at him, wet eyelashes clumped together. “When we were playing,” he says. There’s a hint of rasp in his voice.
If Michael concentrates, he can feel Asher’s misery. I should have noticed earlier. He’s sick?
“Ash, does anything hurt?”
Asher touches his chest. Now that it catches Michael’s attention, Asher’s breath is a little labored. Then, Asher adds, voice thin, “Throat itchy.”
“Oh, baby…” Michael sighs, wiping away the wet of tears underneath Asher’s eyes. The powers. Using the powers made him feel worse. He’s still so little, he can’t do much without tiring himself and look what’s happened now…
“Dad…” Asher presses his hand against Michael’s chest. “It’s okay.”
And now he can feel me panicking?
“Let’s take your temperature,” Michael decides, standing up with Asher secure in his arms.
--
Michael hovers behind Kyle, who’s crouched in front of Asher, peering into his throat.
“Okay, great, Asher. I’m gonna listen to your lungs now,” Kyle says, hooking his stethoscope into his ears. He glances over his shoulder at Michael. “And you – stop breathing down my neck.”
The thing is – it’s very hard not to breathe down Kyle’s neck. Asher has been seriously ill exactly once in his life, back when he was a baby, just after Michael and Alex had adopted him. His temperature had spiked fast, and he’d screamed in misery, red-faced, for hours as they waited for Kyle to be done with his shift. Michael had sat on the couch, trying not to panic, shivers running up and down his spine while he stared at Alex, who was trying to comfort Asher, brow taut with anxiety.
When Kyle had finally arrived, he’d asked why they hadn’t taken Asher to the hospital and that had been the last time Michael had wanted to grab Kyle Valenti by the neck and throw him out of the window.
“Our baby is half alien, and you tell us to take him to the hospital? You think I enjoy hearing him scream like this? Of course we’d take him if only that didn’t put him in danger!” Michael had yelled, crowding Kyle’s space. He’d remembered Liz taking one look at Asher’s cells under a microscope and exclaiming, “Oh, yeah, definitely won’t pass as a human.”
Alex had had to step in and remind them to focus on Asher.
Truth be told, Michael had been angrier at himself. His son was, after all, only half alien; Michael should’ve realized he might not be immune. And when Asher had gotten so sick he’d struggled to breathe, Michael had been afraid Kyle would diagnose him with something drastic, like whooping cough. But it hand been the flu and Asher had started recovering the very same day.
Though Asher isn’t in such a bad state this time, Michael cannot help the anxious feeling spreading in his chest. His worst fear is something happening to Asher, something Kyle and Liz and all the resources at Deep Sky can’t help with and they’d have to put him in a pod and take him to Oasis and then they would say they can’t help him either, because he’s half human.
“Michael, stop spiraling,” Kyle mutters, freakily aware of Michael’s train of thought. He then asks Asher to take one more deep breath and adds, “Kid’s gonna be fine.”
“Is he?” Michael asks, wringing his hands.
Kyle takes a red heart-shaped lollipop from his pocket and presents it to Asher. “All done, here you go!”
“Thank you, Uncle Kyle,” Asher says and hops onto the couch, instantly starting to peel off the wrapper.
“You want one, too?” Kyle teases when he turns to Michael. “Though Asher was much braver than you.”
Michael rolls his eyes. “What’s the diagnosis, doc?”
“Common cold,” Kyle states dryly. “Since Covid came back negative. You need to let him rest and drink lots of fluids and you can give him Kids’ Tylenol – or similar – if needed. And-“ Kyle grasps Michael’s shoulder, forcing eye contact. “-you need to relax. Kids get sick all the time. It’s just unfortunate he didn’t inherit that neat immunity and has to suffer like the rest of us.”
“That was awful,” Michael mutters, thinking back to time when Bonnie took his powers, and he got hit with a hefty mix of viruses.
“I’ve got a half alien kid now, too, so I’m on the same boat. I get being worried over this. Hell, I barely slept when Lou got that ear infection couple months ago. But it’ll be fine. Asher needs you to stay collected.”
“You’re right, and I hate it – again,” Michael complains, shrugging Kyle’s hand off his shoulder.
“When’s Alex coming back?” Kyle asks, eyeing Michael analytically.
“Tomorrow,” Michael says.
“Good. You get cranky without him.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t you have my sister and my niece at home to get back to?”
“I’m going,” Kyle snickers. “Get better soon, Asher!” he calls out.
“You too, Uncle Kyle,” Asher replies distractedly.
Brows climbing, Kyle looks at Michael. Michael grins, saying, “He clearly thinks you have room for improvement.”
Kyle makes a face – that closely resembles a fond smile – before pulling his jacket on. He halts, then says, “And don’t hesitate to call me if he gets worse. Seriously.” Michael nods, knowing Kyle would do anything for Asher.
After Kyle disappears through the door, Michael goes back to the living room and sits on the couch next to Asher.
“Want to call Daddy? He was really worried when I texted him you were sick,” Michael says, pulling Asher close to his side.
“Yeah,” Asher says, voice straining. “Can we watch a movie after?”
“Of course. What do you want to see?”
Asher considers for a moment. “Brother Bear?” he suggests.
“Brother Bear it is.”
--
Three Phil Collins songs into the film Asher falls asleep curled on the couch, head resting on Michael’s thigh. Michael feels exhausted, too, thinking maybe Asher’s weariness is contagious despite Michael’s immunity to sickness. His body feels too heavy to move, so he lets the movie play, watching it with half-interest nearly to the end until his eyes droop shut, as well.
He starts awake hours later, feeling a familiar hand palm his face. He recognizes the touch instantly.
“Alex?” Michael whispers, seeing only the gleam of Alex’s eyes and the shape of his face in the dark. “Whuh- What are you doing home?”
“We wrapped up early,” Alex says, running his thumb back and forth on Michael’s cheekbone. “Thought I’d surprise you.”
“Consider it a success,” Michael yawns. His gaze travels to the empty spot next to him on the couch and he starts a little. “Where’s Ash?”
“I put him to bed,” Alex says.
“He’s sick.”
“I know. We talked about it on the phone.”
“You shouldn’t have – you’re gonna get sick.”
“I don’t care.”
Michael allows Alex to pull him up from the couch. Fingers woven together, they walk to their bedroom. Michael lies on his side, watching Alex go through his routine, removing the prosthetic and rubbing lotion on the residual limb. Then, Alex sighs contently and sinks into their soft bed, pulling Michael tight against him. “Home sweet home,” he mutters.
“Was it awful?” Michael drawls, rubbing his face against Alex’s neck.
Alex sighs. “Yes and no. Easy job. Hated being away from you and Ash, though.”
“We missed you too. Especially Ash.”
“Poor Ash,” Alex mutters. “What have you two been up to? Anything you didn’t tell me already?”
“Not much. Took him to the park the other day.”
“Mmm – Kyle said you were nearly freaking out.”
“Kyle said- Does he keep anything to himself? Doctor-patient confidentiality! Isobel has turned him into a gossip.”
A peal of laughter escapes Alex. Michael has missed that sound. He smiles, in his husband’s arms, everything right in the world. Well, except Asher being sick.
“Did Asher make new friends at the park?” Alex asks, turning so that he’s facing Michael. He entwines their legs, then slips his fingers into Michael’s hair, playing with the curls.
“It’s Asher,” Michael snorts. “There was another little boy, and they became obsessed with each other. His mom tried to hit on me.”
Alex hums, amused, yanking Michael’s hair playfully. “Let me guess: subtly asked about a wife?”
“She asked where Asher’s mother was. I told her she was dead. She got all consolatory, until I elaborated that that’s why me and my husband adopted him.”
“You’re evil, Michael Guerin.”
“And you love me, Alex Guerin.”
“I do,” Alex says almost heatedly, leaning to kiss Michael soundly. “Do you think Asher’s gonna like having other kids in our home?” he then asks softly.
They’ve been in the process of acquiring a fostering license for a while. Next year the earliest, they’re going to have another kid to care for. Michael feels giddy thinking about it; he can’t wait.
Though, he has to raise his brows at the hint of doubt in Alex’s voice. “Asher ‘I befriend everyone at the park’ Guerin? Asher ‘All kids at kindergarten are my best friends’ Guerin? Asher ‘What even is stranger danger?’ Guerin?”
“You know – we never gave him a second name. Those are some great suggestions. I have to point out he’s also Asher ‘I have to have my parents’ undivided attention’ Guerin.”
“He’s been an only child this far,” Michael hums. “He’ll come around. He’s had practice with his cousins aplenty. Doesn’t even have those tantrums anymore every time I pick up Lou.”
Alex suddenly snickers. “We’re talking about parenting.”
“Yeah, we are? We are parents, Alex.”
“No, it’s just… A couple years ago, late at night like this, when I’ve been away from home, we wouldn’t be… talking. And now we’re having dad-conversations.”
“Couple of years ago we didn’t have Asher,” Michael points out. “And I like our dad-conversations.”
“Yeah, it’s nice,” Alex replies, breath ghosting over Michael’s face. “However…” Alex’s hand travels across Michael’s side, raising the skin on goosebumps. “Are you too tired? Can I let my hands wander a little?”
Michael smirks. “Have at it.”
--
Michael has just finished his process of waking up, eyes getting used to the morning light, when Asher toddles into their room early in the morning, dragging his Moomin plush toy with him. He rubs his eye and sniffles, “Daddy?”
“I’m right here, Ash,” Alex says, perking up. They’d fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other but had drifted apart during the night. Sometimes it just happened. Michael thinks fondly back to the rare couple of times when they’d slept together in his Airstream and couldn’t escape each other on the narrow bed. When they’d woken up, they couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began.
Asher sways as he walks towards them.
“Guess.” Cough. “What animal.” Cough. “Am I?” Cough.
“Right now, you sound like a very sick little alien boy,” Alex says, beckoning Asher. “Come here.”
Whining, Asher climbs into the bed, over Michael, right into Alex’s open arms. He presses his face against Alex’s shirt and Michael winces. “He’s getting snot all over you.”
“I don’t care,” Alex says, placing a kiss into Asher’s hair. They listen to Asher’s wheezing breath. Alex makes a worried face, running his palm over Asher’s forehead. “Does anything hurt, Ash?”
“Throat,” Asher rasps. “Head.”
“Do you want medicine?” Michael chimes in, hating that Asher’s in pain. He touches his son’s cheek with his knuckles: it feels burning hot, even to him.
“Yes, Dad,” Asher whispers.
When Michael returns with a capsule and a glass of water, Asher has slipped under the covers, comforter pulled all the way to his chin. The skin around his nose glistens with snot and two red spots glow on his cheeks. Alex’s is arm is flung protectively over Asher.
“Sit up so you can swallow,” Michael orders gently, offering Asher the pill. Alex supports Asher as he chugs down half the glass, then slumps back down on the bed with a whimper.
“He’s shivering,” Alex points out. “Come here, Michael.”
Not having to be told twice, Michael clambers back into bed, curling around Asher, who ends up squished between them, holding tightly onto Alex’s shirt. Michael nearly hisses when Asher’s feet brush against his legs: even in the throes of fever, they’re ice cold, like they have the tendency to be.
“Did you kick off your socks while sleeping again, Asher?” Michael asks, running his hand up and down Asher’s arm.
“It just happens,” Asher whines.
“Restless legs,” Alex hums. He grins up at Michael. “Like your dad’s always kicking me in his sleep.”
Michael raises his brows at Alex, forever denying the accusations. Asher though – Asher’s always been a mobile sleeper, like he’s dancing in his dreams while he sleeps. Even as a baby his legs had kicked back and forth.
Asher giggles, then promptly starts coughing again. It goes on until a clump comes up, running down his chin. Michael shudders, remembering when his own lungs were full of phlegm that just didn’t come out. How humans deal with this so often is beyond him.
“Michael, would you-“
Alex doesn’t need to finish; Michael flies over a box of tissues and Alex gets to wiping Asher’s face.
“Did you come home because I’m sick?” Asher asks Alex. Alex crumples the tissue and throws in aside, somewhere on the floor, before replying,
“No, I was already on my way home when I heard you were sick. But I’m glad I’m here now.”
“We played your new song,” Asher croaks.
“Did you?” Alex looks at Michael, eyes smiling. All Alex’s smiles are beautiful, but Michael’s favorite after the full-blown smile that lights up his entire face is when Alex smiles like this, with just his eyes. His eyes are so warm and loving. Michael’s breath catches.
“Ash is getting pretty good,” Michael says. “Real musical prodigy.”
“Daddy,” Asher interrupts, reaching up to pat Alex’s face clumsily. “Guess what animal am I?”
--
Couple of days later Asher regains his energy, only occasionally coughing when he gets a bit too excited running around belting the latest Taylor Swift song he’s become obsessed with.
Alex, however, wakes up with his voice completely gone.
“He got you sick, what did I tell you?” Michael says when he places a bowl of steaming soup into Alex’s hands. Alex raises his brows, not a hint of regret on his face. Well, if Michael weren’t immune, he couldn’t have been kept from Asher’s side, either. “Aw, no worries,” Michael says, kissing Alex’s forehead. “I’m here to take care of you. Always.”