Archive of Our Own

After an alien invasion, going back to stopping purse-snatchers and taggers feels…anticlimactic. On the one hand, it’s good; Chris is still working through all his feelings about his so-called destiny and all the people he’s killed. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do to fix all the churned up feelings in his chest and in his brain. He always feels like there’s something slightly off, like he’s missing something.

He has to fight hard for sleep, and then it’s not even good when he gets there. He has nightmares pretty much every night, blood-soaked and full of screaming, his dad’s ghost sneering in his face when he’s asleep and when he wakes up, too. So a little time away from death is a good thing, surely.

But on the other hand, it’s kind of boring.

Adrian obviously agrees, because he hasn’t stopped pissing and moaning about it even for a second. His main complaint is that Chris won’t let him kill anyone anymore, which Chris most definitely should’ve seen coming.

“I’m just saying, bro, some people honestly deserve to die!” Adrian finally winds down another tirade after leaving a guy tied up instead of splattered on the pavement. “Eagly, back me up here!”

They’re making their way through the woods to get back to Chris’s trailer. Overhead, Eagly gives a screech that could mean anything and that Adrian is absolutely going to take as validation. Chris rolls his eyes. “I just don’t think we should be the jury on that one, man.”

Adrian blinks at him a few times. “Why not?”

“Because we may not be right every time.”

“So?” Adrian asks. “It’s better if they die from us doing the right thing than of something like poison or getting shot by a carjacker or ODing. At least they’re dying for justice.”

“Your mind is honestly fascinating.”

Chris and Adrian both jump. It’s possible one or maybe both of them scream. They didn’t notice Adebayo sitting on Chris’s front step. Chris is just relieved it’s not his dad’s ghost again.

“Okay, see, in this case, it’s good that Peacemaker hasn’t been letting me kill people,” Adrian says. “Because I didn’t bring my throwing knives. Otherwise, you’d be dead right now. Because you just scared the shit out of me.”

Chris gives Adebayo a hand to stand up. “Adrian, would you be sad if you killed me?” Adebayo asks.

Adrian’s mouth drops open. “Dude! Yes! You’re my third-best friend. I’d feel so guilty.” He tips his head and winces. “Okay. I’d feel kind of guilty. For a little bit.”

“That’s really guilty for him,” Chris points out.

“I’m honored,” Adebayo says dryly.

“What’s up, Ads?” Chris asks.

“Do you want to get drunk and shoot at trees with us?” Adrian asks. “That’s what we were about to do.”

“Uh, no, that sounds dangerous.” Chris and Adrian exchange an eyeroll. “And you’re not going to be able to do that tonight. We’ve got more aliens.”

Adrian whoops excitedly. “Finally!”

“More butterflies?” Chris asks. “How could there be any left?” After four months, they’re pretty positive any food supply any errant butterflies had left must be gone.

“Not butterflies,” Adebayo says. “We actually don’t know what these are. No idea if they’re dangerous. They could be totally peaceful for all we know.”

“Aw,” Adrian says, disappointed.

“But they might not be,” Chris reminds him. “You might get to kill someone tonight.”

“Chainsaw?” Adrian looks so hopeful.

“No,” Adebayo says. “Harcourt explicitly told me to tell you the chainsaw is a definite no.”

“Is she coming?” Chris asks. He’s pretty sure he kept his voice completely normal when he said that. But then Adrian gooses him, right in the ass, and says in a faux-girly voice,

“Oooh, Harcourt!”

“Do not grab my ass again,” Chris says sternly.

“I mean, sometimes I have to,” Adrian says.

“Okay, sometimes you do,” Chris agrees. “But don’t do it unless you have to.”

“Why would he have to…no, never mind,” Adebayo says, shaking her head. “Harcourt is coming, but she’s staying in the van with me and John. If there are too many for you two, I’ll come in as backup.”

“Uh, there’s no such thing as too many,” Adrian says with a laugh. “I’m going to kill so many aliens.”

“It’s good she’s staying in the van,” Chris says.

“Yeah, she still can’t run away,” Adrian says. “She’d be pretty useless out of the van.” He’s not wrong. Harcourt’s walking again, but it’s only under a fairly generous definition of walking.

“Adrian, that’s insensitive,” Adebayo says patiently.

“I know, that’s why I only said it to you guys, not to her.”

“Good job, dude,” Chris praises. “You’re getting really good at that.”

Adrian beams. “Thanks.”

“Okay, sure, the two of you are paragons of sympathy and tact. Can we go now? Your eagle just dropped a ferret on my car.”

“Good boy, Eagly,” Adrian says. “Such good hunting.”

“That’s a good thing,” Chris promises her. “Usually he only brings presents for me. He just barely started bringing them when V’s around.”

“I am not eating no damn ferret,” Adebayo warns.

“That’s rude,” Adrian chides. “Eagly brought it for you.”

“You eat the shit he drops?” Adebayo asks.

“Of course not,” Chris says, at the same time Adrian says,

“Of course I do!”

Chris makes a face at Adrian. “That’s disgusting.”

“I cook it first.”

“That’s not better!” Adebayo insists. “Oh my God. I might puke. You skin a ferret?” She gags. “No, don’t tell me. Oh, God.”

Adrian cracks up laughing. “I was being sarcastic without warning you first! Did I do it right?”

“No,” Chris tells him. “There’s a difference between being sarcastic and just lying.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well…” Chris doesn’t actually know. “I can’t tell you everything, man. You have to learn some stuff yourself.”

Adrian nods sagely. “Thanks. You’re always making sure I make myself better.”

“Good Lord,” Adebayo mutters as they get in her car. “Hey, eagle! Get this ferret!”

“He has a name,” Chris says.

Adrian pats the roof of the car. “Eagly, come get your treat. Come get it, Eagly. Eagly!”

Eagly ignores them all and gets in the backseat with Adrian. Chris pushes the ferret off the car with a stick. Unfortunately, this does not end up being the grossest part of his day.

In the van on the way to some warehouse (why is it always a warehouse, anyway?), Adrian pulls a whetstone out of God-knows-where and starts sharpening his knives and sword. He’s humming while he does it.

Harcourt stares at him for a minute, then asks, “How old were you when your family died?”

“What?” Adrian asks.

“None of his family’s dead,” Chris says.

“Okay, not none,” Adrian argues. “That’s not even possible. Unless they were vampires or something.”

“What the hell?” Harcourt says. “You told me your whole family was dead.”

“Oh,” Adrian says, realization dawning. “No, that was a lie. To throw you off the scent with my secret identity.”

“Huh.” Harcourt raises her eyebrows. “Would’ve made sense if your parents died or something.”

“Why my parents?” Adrian asks. “Maybe I had a wife and kids who died.”

“I figured out by about the second time I talked to you that you never had a wife,” Harcourt says with a snort.

“How?” Adrian asks.

“Uh…call it a woman’s intuition.”

“Why’d you ask?” Chris asks.

“I was trying to figure out why he’s…” Harcourt gestures broadly at Adrian. Adebayo nods her agreement. Chris can’t pretend he doesn’t get what she means.

“I was born this way,” Adrian says with a shrug.

“Adrian, were you a butt baby, too?” Adebayo asks.

“His dad’s gay,” Chris points out. “I don’t know if he came out his mom’s butt, but he sure went in that way.”

“Hey!” Adrian protests.

“Oh, relax,” Chris says. “I’m just kidding. Everyone knows you can’t get pregnant in the butt.”

“Well.” Adebayo shrugs. “True. But if you’re, you know. Moving around. Technically it could happen.”

“Wait, what?” Chris says. He’s pretty sure his life just flashed before his eyes.

From the front, Economos says, “Sounds like Peacemaker might have some butt babies running around somewhere.”

“How did this conversation end up here?” Harcourt wonders aloud. “I swear, Murn got off easy with not having to deal with you asshats.”

“That’s kind of what my mom’s first boyfriend after the divorce said about my dad and me and my brother,” Adrian says conversationally. “But obviously without anybody dying.”

“Did that boyfriend die?” Economos asks. “Did you kill him?”

“I don’t kill for revenge,” Adrian says scornfully. “My name’s Vigilante, not Vengeancey.” He grins. “I do keep an eye on him, though. If he ever does anything criminal…” He smacks his hands together like he’s squishing a bug.

“Oh, good God,” Harcourt mutters.

“Maybe we should have a little less talk and a little more rock,” Economos says. He cranks up the music. Chris certainly isn’t going to complain about that.

He has no problem killing aliens, but just holding a gun in his hand is bringing up his dad’s ghost. Or bad memories or whatever it is. Chris needs the music loud to drown it out. Plus, as he’s made very clear, he prefers rocking to just about anything else.

“I’m so happy!” Adrian cries, beheading another alien. The aliens did not turn out to be peaceful, which has been the highlight of Adrian’s month. But every time one of the aliens dies, it secretes…goo. There’s really no other word for it.

Adrian and Chris are both covered in the goo. It’s disgusting. It smells like old cat piss. It’s making Chris dry-heave every time he takes a deep breath. Adrian still has his mask on, so it’s probably not bothering him at all.

“Hey,” Chris says. “You should take your mask off. Smell this.” If Chris has to smell it, Adrian should, too. And it’ll be hilarious when he’s super grossed out.

Adrian pulls his mask off. He recoils immediately. “Why did you make me smell this?” he cries.

“I didn’t make you,” Chris points out, practically falling over with how hard he’s laughing at Adrian. He shoots an alien creeping up on Adrian and it splatters goo all over Adrian. Adrian’s whole body is wracked by a shudder.

Chris shakes his head. Blood, guts, and viscera don’t phase Adrian at all, but he’s losing it over alien goo. Luckily, they seem to have come to the end of the wealth of aliens hiding out in this warehouse. “Look around and see if you can find some intel,” Harcourt instructs on their comms.

“What kind of intel?” Chris asks.

“Anything. Why they’re here, where they’re from, whatever.”

“The smell’s getting worse,” Adrian says, voice choked. He hasn’t even put his glasses on yet, so apparently he’s not going to help find any intel.

“Well, you killed a lot of aliens, buddy,” Chris says. “You got a lot of their goo on you.” He doesn’t pay much attention to Adrian as he starts poking around the warehouse, trying to find any kind of communication device or something, until he hears Adrian throwing up.

“Gross, dude, is your stomach really that weak?” Chris complains. He swallows down a retch. Adrian doesn’t answer. Chris can hear him throw up again.

“Oh, God, it’s gonna make me puke,” Economos says in their ears.

“This day has been too full of gagging and puking,” Adebayo says.

“Get it together,” Harcourt says, but her voice sounds a little tight, like she’s resisting the urge to gag, too.

“Come on, let’s find some intel and get out of here,” Chris says. Adrian doesn’t say anything. Chris turns around, but he doesn’t see Adrian. “Vij?” No response. “Hey, V?” Chris goes back to where he last saw Adrian and sees him keeled over in a corner. “Oh, fuck,” Chris says.

“What?” Harcourt demands.

“Adrian’s—I don’t know. Passed out?” Chris crouches down and rolls Adrian over. Adrian’s totally limp and floppy. It makes Chris’s stomach drop. And then he sees Adrian’s face and feels panic shoot through him. He’s got angry red welts all over his face and neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I think this stuff’s toxic or something. His face looks—I don’t know. Burned.” He feels Adrian’s neck, heart pounding. He can feel a weak pulse. “His pulse is weak.”

“Forget the intel,” Adebayo urges. “Get him back here!”

“Wait,” Harcourt says.

“I can’t wait!” Chris says.

“We don’t know exactly how this might spread. It could be airborne.”

“I don’t give a shit, he needs help!” Chris insists. Adrian’s breath is starting to come in wheezes. “He can’t breathe!”

“Oh my God,” Adebayo says. “I don’t care if it’s airborne. Bring him back.”

“We can’t risk contaminating all of us,” Harcourt says, but her voice is rushed and tense.

“We have gas masks in here,” Economos points out. “We’ll just have to hope that’s enough.”

“It’s not doing anything to me,” Chris says. He scoops Adrian up and runs out of the warehouse, avoiding slippery piles of goo. The last thing he needs is to fall. He’d probably land on Adrian and crush him or something.

“Maybe he swallowed some,” Economos says. “He puts stuff in his mouth a lot.”

It’s a testament to the severity of the situation that Chris has no dirty comment to make about that. But he can see Adrian’s lips starting to turn blue. He can’t exactly think of dick jokes right now.

“Come on, Adrian, come on,” Chris murmurs. He doesn’t really know what he’s saying, or why, but it feels like he should be encouraging Adrian. He gets them back to the van. Economos is already waiting outside, gas mask on.

“I’m going to try something,” he says. “Put him down.”

Chris finds himself reluctant to do it. He knows running around carrying Adrian won’t do anything to help, but it feels more useful than just standing and watching. But Economos has medical training, and Chris just barely found out hydrogen peroxide is actually bad for cleaning wounds, so he gently puts Adrian down on the ground.

“It’s just a regular epi-pen,” Economos says. “But hopefully it’ll at least open his airways a little. Adebayo’s got the oxygen ready. Is this thing reinforced?” He’s tapping on Adrian’s suit. “I need to get to his leg. It’ll go through most fabrics, but if this is armored it won’t work.”

“Well, we know it isn’t bulletproof,” Chris points out. He can hear how high and panicked his voice sounds. “Why isn’t it bulletproof, Adrian? And why the fuck did you take your mask off? Now you take it off? Why the fuck would you listen to me?”

“Okay, let’s worry about that later,” Harcourt instructs. She and Adebayo are still in the van, but they’re both pressed against the window, watching.

“We gotta take his pants off,” Economos says.

Chris makes short work of Adrian’s belt, even though his hands are shaking. He’s pretty practiced at it by now. It’s a lot easier getting the pants off with Adrian’s cooperation, though.

“That’s good,” Economos says. Chris has only gotten Adrian’s pants halfway down his thighs. Economos stabs the pen into Adrian’s outer thigh. “Rub that,” he instructs. Chris does it without arguing. He holds his breath, hoping Adrian’s will start to come easier.

It sounds like it’s working. The wheezes are getting less violent, at least. Hopefully that means he’s getting more air and not that he’s just not breathing at all.

Adrian’s eyes start to flutter. He groans. Chris breathes a sigh of relief. His whole body feels weak with fear and adrenaline. Adrian turns his head and throws up again. Chris starts gagging, and then Economos swallows a few times. But they both manage to swallow it down.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Economos says. Chris is pretty sure he’s trying to sound unaffected, but his hands are shaking, too.

“What’s going on?” Adrian mumbles. His voice is raspy. He cracks one eye and sees Chris rubbing his thigh. “Right now? With him?” He starts reaching for Chris’s belt.

“No, no, no, hang on,” Chris says quickly. “Nope, not that.”

“Wow,” Harcourt says from the van.

“Well, that explains how he figured out that belt so fast,” Adebayo says. “Oh, is that why he said sometimes he has to touch your ass? Come on.”

“Harcourt, we need that oxygen,” Economos says. He looks at Chris. “You know, I really expected him to be commando in there.”

Chris shakes his head. “He doesn’t go commando. Especially in the suit. Doesn’t like the way it feels against his junk.”

“And apparently you know about feeling his junk,” Economos says. “Congratulations and all that.”

“Is he okay?” Chris says, ignoring everyone’s stupid little comments. They don’t seem to be taking this seriously enough. He gives Adrian a gentle little shake. “You okay?”

“Ow, don’t,” Adrian complains.

“Ow?” Economos asks as Harcourt and Adebayo bring the oxygen tank out. Mostly Adebayo; Harcourt really doesn’t have much core strength back, and she better not be trying to lift that thing.

“Skin hurts,” Adrian says. He coughs. “Everything’s blurry.”

”I don’t know where you keep your glasses in here, dude,” Chris says apologetically.

”Hmm.” Adrian just shakes his head, like it’s too much effort to get them out right now. “Masks?”

“We think the alien goo’s toxic,” Chris says. “Did you lick it?”

Adrian makes a little noise that Chris knows means I don’t know. Economos fits the mask over his face and Adrian shakes his head, nose crinkling up in distaste.

“He doesn’t like it on his face,” Chris says. “Part of why he hates hospitals so much.”

“Alright, well, sorry,” Economos says sarcastically. “Fuck me for trying to save your life here.”

“That’s being sarcastic,” Chris tells Adrian.

Adrian whines wordlessly a little, but he stops trying to pull the oxygen mask off. “I think we should get him back to HQ,” Economos says. “I’ve got more med stuff there.”

“Let’s get a sample of that goo before we go,” Harcourt says. She lifts a foot like she’s going to go do it herself, but then she stops with a wince as she probably remembers it’ll take about a week for her to get there and back. “Uh, Chris, can you go get some?”

“I’m not leaving him,” Chris protests. “What if something happens again?”

Adrian makes another noise under his oxygen mask. His eyes are drooping, but one hand makes its way to Chris’s arm.

“We don’t want to risk exposing anyone else,” Harcourt points out. “If it’s a contact kind of thing, we want to keep contact minimal.”

“I got it,” Adebayo says. She’s pulling on a containment suit. “Chris, stay there.”

Now Chris feels kind of embarrassed. He should’ve just gone to get the goo. It’s not like he’s actually helping, sitting here hanging onto Adrian like a chick in a war movie. And Adebayo’s giving him that look that means he’s being vulnerable and showing feelings, and Economos won’t look directly at him, and Harcourt’s got her lips all pressed together because he’s endangering the mission.

His first inclination is to shove away from Adrian, to say something about how he’s not a pussy and can do it himself. But he reins that in. He really doesn’t want to leave. Finding Adrian like that was scary. Chris wants to sit here and make sure his chest is still rising and falling regularly. Especially because it’s Chris’s fucking fault. He’s the one who told Adrian to take off his mask.

They all wait in silence for Adebayo to get back. Near silence, anyway; Adrian’s still wheezing a little, though less with each breath. Chris picks him up again to put him in the van when Adebayo gets back, and Adrian rests his head against Chris’s chest. It feels…good. Chris likes that.

Adrian’s breathing pretty normally by the time they get back to HQ. He pulls off the oxygen mask and lets out a relieved little puff of air. “I hate those things.” He gets his glasses out of somewhere—and seriously, where the fuck does he keep stuff in that suit—and blinks as he puts them on.

“Dude, what the hell,” Economos says. “You’re like, completely fine now?”

Adrian shrugs. “I feel really itchy.”

“Did you eat goo?” Chris asks. Maybe Adrian did it to himself. Maybe it’s not Chris’s fault. Maybe Chris won’t have something else to blame himself for as he stares at the ceiling at night.

“I don’t think so,” Adrian says. “Not on purpose. You kept getting mad when I licked stuff.”

“Yeah, because you shouldn’t go around licking shit!” Chris says. He gestures at Adrian. “Case in point.”

“I wonder if it’s an allergy,” Economos muses as they go inside. “Chris is fine, and he has more skin exposed than Adrian, so it can’t be a contact poison. There’s a pretty low chance they’re that covered and none went in Chris’s mouth by accident, so even if Adrian did lick some, I don’t think that’s the problem.”

Which is just great. It is Chris’s fault. He rubs his eyes, trying to keep himself together. Adebayo, Harcourt, and Economos put on hazmat suits. Adebayo has to help Harcourt step into hers. Chris would help, but he can’t touch any of them, just in case.

“You think Adrian’s allergic to aliens?” Harcourt asks skeptically.

“I’m not allergic to anything,” Adrian says. “My brother’s allergic to shellfish but I ate a whole crab boil once and I was fine.”

“We’re talking about aliens here,” Economos points out. “All bets are off.”

“Makes sense you’d be allergic to something alien and not human,” Adebayo says. “Since you got some metahuman DNA in you.”

Adrian looks at her. “What?”

Adebayo, Economos, and Harcourt give him weird looks. “What?” Adebayo asks.

“Adrian’s not metahuman,” Chris says.

“Not fully,” Harcourt agrees. “But he’s got some metahuman DNA. How do you think he heals so fast? Normal people don’t get blown up and just walk it off.” She grimaces a little, probably thinking of her own injuries.

“Duh,” Adrian says. “That’s why I blow them up. But I never knew I had metahuman DNA.”

“You never wondered why you could heal like that?” Economos asks.

Adrian shrugs. “I thought it just meant I was destined to be a superhero.”

“Well, yeah,” Adebayo says. “Kind of. My mom had you on a list of metahumans. Well, she had Vigilante. Never figured out your secret identity.”

Adrian preens. “Obviously because she never talked to him,” Chris points out. Adrian glowers at him. “Adrian really has metahuman DNA in him and I don’t?” Chris asks.

“Sounds like you’ve had Adrian’s DNA in you,” Economos says. “Heyo!” He and Adebayo fist bump. Their hazmat suits make a crinkling sound when they do.

“Yeah,” Adrian says. “So? I’ve had his DNA in me, too.”

“Sharing is caring,” Adebayo says, overly serious. Adrian doesn’t get that she’s making fun of them. He just nods.

“We’re going to have to keep you guys here for observation,” Harcourt says. She shrugs. “Sorry.”

Adrian raises his hand. “Is there—”

“Cable, I remember,” Harcourt says. “No.”

“Aw, come on,” Adrian complains.

“Dude, do you not know how to pirate?” Economos asks.

“Dude, only criminals pirate!” Adrian says. “And then I’d have to shoot them in the face.” He holds up his hands. “Fine, fine, no shooting them in the face anymore. Maybe just the leg. And then I’d apply a tourniquet and leave them for the cops. Ugh. So lame.”

“What’s your stance on pirating, Chris?” Adebayo asks. She’s acting all innocent, but Chris glares at her. She knows he doesn’t know how.

“That’s for criminals,” he says lamely. Adebayo’s laughing at him and he flips her off. Then, of course, Adrian does it too.

“Oh, ow,” he says. He pulls off a glove and looks at his hand. The rash from his face has obviously spread; it’s all over his hands. “No wonder I feel so itchy.” He’s shifting around in his chair a bunch.

“Chris, you feeling anything?” Harcourt asks.

“Normal,” Chris reports with a shrug.

“I wonder if it somehow targets metahumans,” Economos says. “Since he’s only got a bit of metahuman DNA, it’s not killing him, but it’s definitely making him uncomfortable.”

Adrian looks up from using a pencil to scratch his back. “How long is this going to last?”

“I obviously can’t know that,” Economos points out.

Adrian groans. “I need to scratch my whole body.”

“Like some kind of alien chickenpox,” Adebayo says.

“I never had chickenpox,” Adrian says, scratching up and down his arms. Watching him scratching is making Chris start to feel itchy. He tries to be casual about it, but he obviously didn’t succeed.

“Oh, no, are you feeling it now too?” Economos asks.

“No, he’s just scratching so much it’s making me itchy, too!” Chris protests. “I’m not allergic to the aliens, I’m allergic to Adrian. Or he’s an alien! He’s weird enough to be one.”

Adrian gives him a wounded look. “Well, jeez, sorry for being allergic.” He scratches desperately at his ears. It makes Chris feel bad. And he knows he’s getting pissed at Adrian when he’s really pissed at himself. He always does that, even though he’s really trying to stop. Adrian just makes such an easy target.

“Maybe you should try taking a shower,” Harcourt points out. “For one thing, it’d get rid of any traces of the goo left on you. For another, that’s part of the containment protocol you haven’t been following.”

“I don’t have any clothes,” Adrian says. “I can’t get back in my suit after I take a shower if it’s still dirty.”

“We have to take the suit,” Harcourt says. “Run tests, scrape any substances, maybe just keep it as evidence.”

“Oh, come on!” Adrian protests. “Do you know how much work it is to make those?”

“You make those yourself?” Adebayo asks.

“Where did you think I got them?” Adrian asks.

“I don’t know. Superheroes-R-Us?”

“There is no Superheroes-R-Us,” Adrian says sullenly. “And I never had an evil racist dad making tech for me. I just had my regular gay dad making food for me.”

“It’s not like it’s my fault my dad was a supervillain,” Chris says.

“Did either of you bring the backup drop bag you were supposed to leave here?” Harcourt asks. From her tone, it’s obvious she already knows the answer is no. Adrian winces.

“In my defense, I didn’t trust you guys until very recently.”

“That’s not a very good defense,” Adebayo says.

“Well, you framed Peacemaker, so I think it’s a great defense.”

“Vij,” Chris chides.

Adebayo shrugs. “Okay. Got me there.”

Harcourt claps her hands together. “Okay. Adebayo and Economos are going to find Chris and Adrian some uncontaminated clothes. And then you’ll take your decontamination showers and we’ll set you up for observation.”

“You’re not going to observe our showers, are you?” Adrian asks. “That feels like a violation of my civil rights.”

“This isn’t prison,” Adebayo says. “No one’s looking to violate you in any way. Well, I guess Chris might.”

Harcourt is rubbing her temples now. That can’t even be effective with the big helmet thing on the hazmat suit. “Ads. John. Please go now. Let’s hurry this up.”

“Why do I have to stay for observation?” Chris complains. “I’m obviously fine.”

“We can’t be positive about that,” Harcourt says. “What, now you want to leave him?”

Adrian’s head snaps over to look at her. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Chris says quickly.

“You don’t remember him clinging to you?” Adebayo says, not quite out the door. She and Economos are taking off their hazmat suits. “He was being very dramatic.”

A smile’s starting to bloom across Adrian’s face. “Really?”

“Thought you were gonna die,” Chris mutters, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. He won’t look at Adrian.

“You were worried about me?” Adrian asks. He’s practically vibrating out of his chair.

“No,” Chris says, but even to his own ears it sounds stupid and fake.

He knows there’s no real reason to be embarrassed—it’s obvious to everyone that he really cares about Adrian, and it’s not like Adrian’s going to be mad at him for it—but he just knows Adrian’s going to make a big deal out of this and be weird.

Adrian kicks his feet happily. “I’m so happy you were freaked out.”

“Well, that’s really rude,” Chris says. “You shouldn’t be happy about that.”

“Sorry,” Adrian says, not sorry at all. He’s grinning from ear to ear. Chris refuses to find it endearing.

“While you two are waiting for the showers, you could get a jump on your reports,” Harcourt points out. “Now that we’re not a secret anymore, the higher-ups are all over our asses about reports and I’m sick of filling them out for you.”

Chris groans. “I don’t want to do that. Reports are for nerds.”

“Thank you for that,” Harcourt says dryly.

“I don’t really remember very much,” Adrian admits. He yawns. “I chopped off an alien’s head and then I woke up in the van with an oxygen mask.”

“That’s kind of weird,” Harcourt says. “Right? Maybe? God, I hate all this alien shit. We’re flying blind.”

Chris pretends to work on his report. Adrian spins around in his chair once or twice, but grimaces. “Did I puke earlier?”

“A bunch of times,” Chris tells him.

“That explains why I’m so hungry.”

“Gross,” Chris says. “You puked and now you want to eat?”

“There’s nothing in my stomach anymore!”

Harcourt brings them some of those protein shake meal replacement things that come in a cardboard carton and absolutely taste like it. Chris downs his in two swallows, because it’s better to just drink protein shakes without tasting them. Adrian keeps taking little sips and pulling faces.

It doesn’t take very long for Adebayo and Economos to come back with shopping bags. “Okay,” Economos says. “It was a little hard figuring out sizes.”

“Why didn’t you just go to my house and get clothes?” Chris asks.

“Well, that wouldn’t be very fair if we got your clothes and not Adrian’s,” Adebayo points out. “And we don’t know where he lives.”

“Adrian has clothes at my house,” Chris says.

“Okay, we didn’t know that,” Adebayo says. “Maybe if someone had told us you two were a thing we would’ve known that.”

“What thing?” Adrian asks.

“A sex thing,” Economos clarifies. “Doesn’t seem like you’re dating, but you’re obviously more than friends.”

“Yeah,” Adrian says, rifling through the shopping bags. “We’re BFFs.” He holds up the shirt that must be for Chris, judging by the size. It’s got a US flag and a bald eagle on it. “Aw, cute, look, it looks like Eagly!” Adrian says. He drops the shirt as the smile drops off his face. “Oh, my God, where’s Eagly?”

“Oh, fuck,” Chris says. Eagly went into the warehouse with them, but he took off at the first sight—and smell—of the goo. “What if the goo got him?”

Adrian runs to the door. “Hey,” Harcourt yells after him. “Do not go out there.”

“We have to find Eagly!” Adrian protests.

“What are you going to do, just run around yelling for an eagle?”

“He comes when I whistle,” Chris says. “Sometimes.”

“Okay, Adebayo can open the door and you can whistle,” Harcourt says.

Adebayo obligingly opens the door and Chris lets out Eagly’s whistle. Nothing happens. Adrian looks at Chris, eyes big and worried. Chris whistles again. No Eagly. “Fuck,” Chris says, and he can hear how desperate he sounds.

“I’ll go look for him,” Adebayo offers. “I even have a bag to crinkle.”

“Wait, here,” Adrian says. He pulls some jerky out of his pocket. “It’s better for him than chips. He likes chips better, but he knows he can’t have his Doritos until he eats his jerky.”

Adebayo heads out to the parking lot. She doesn’t bother to take off her hazmat suit this time. “Here, Eagly!” she calls out. “Good eagle!”

Chris drops his head to his hands. “If something happens to him…” But then they hear his screech. Chris leaps up from his chair and plasters himself to the door. “Eagly!”

Adebayo is also screeching, though her screeches aren’t happy. Eagly is dive-bombing her until she opens the door and lets him inside. He immediately drops to Chris’s shoulder.

“Hey, there’s my buddy,” Chris coos at him. “Are you okay? You aren’t sick?”

Adrian crowds close, feeling Eagly’s wings. “I think he’s okay.”

Eagly brushes a wing at Adrian, gently. “Dude, I think he was patting you on the shoulder,” Chris says. “He’s worried about you.”

“Aw,” Adrian says. “Eagly! I’m okay, man.”

“This is heartwarming and all, but you really should take showers,” Economos reminds them. “Get that goo off you before it can infect anyone else. In case it can.”

“Yeah, there’s no reason you can’t all have a big, family hug after your decontamination showers,” Harcourt agrees.

“If Eagly hugged me, I would die,” Adrian says seriously as they head toward the showers. “I would just die.”

“Eagly’s never hugged anyone else,” Chris says. “I’m not saying he doesn’t like you, because he obviously does, but let’s not get crazy here.”

Adrian holds up his hands. “I’m just saying. If he ever did it, I hope someone gets a picture.”

Chris rolls his eyes. But honestly, he can’t blame Adrian for that. “Yeah, dude, I’ll take a picture,” he relents.

The decontamination showers are fucking freezing. They both scream the whole time they’re washing up, and then Adrian’s teeth are chattering while they get dressed. Chris keeps his jaw clenched because he refuses to let his teeth chatter. That’s for little kids. Apparently Adebayo and Economos got them matching shirts. They look absolutely ridiculous. But the flag and eagle on the shirts do look pretty kick-ass.

“I’m still itchy,” Adrian complains when they go back out to where everyone is. He’s still got the red rash going down his neck and all over his arms, but it looks like it’s fading.

“Oh, sorry,” Adebayo says. “We got this, too.”

It’s an anti-itch cream. Adrian starts smearing it all over his arms and neck, huffing and puffing about how cold it is and how much he hates the feeling of lotion. He’s trying to get his back, and he looks pathetic enough that Chris takes the tube from him.

“Come on, take off your shirt,” Chris says, gesturing. “I’ll do it.”

“You two need a little privacy?” Economos asks. “A little bam-chicka-wow-wow?”

“What is that?” Adrian asks while Chris gets to work. “Bam-chicka-what?”

“He’s being very childish,” Adebayo says. “Implying that you two want to have sex now.”

“Oh,” Adrian says. “Well, I don’t want to have sex right now. I’m really itchy. And I’m really tired. And I’m still hungry. And this is not the kind of underwear I like.”

“Same on the underwear,” Chris says as he finishes Adrian’s back. “For the record.”

“Fuck you both,” Economos says. “So fucking prissy about your underwear. I thought you didn’t like clothes touching your butt, anyway.”

“That’s only when I’m peeing,” Adrian says, all muffled as he pulls his shirt back over his head. “When I’m not peeing, I have to have clothes touching my butt. But this isn’t the right kind.”

“You’re going to have to get him the right kind,” Chris says. “He’s not going to shut up about it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Economos asks.

“It’s not the right kind and it feels bad and I’m itchy and it’s wrong!” Adrian yells in a rush. He purses his lips and then blows out a breath. “Sorry.”

Chris looks at Economos and taps his temple discreetly, hoping Economos remembers what Chris said about Adrian when they saw him at Fennel Fields forever ago. Mental issues. It’s probably not all PC or whatever to phrase it that way, but that’s the nicest way Chris can think to say it.

Adrian’s always been super weird about clothes. That’s one thing Chris remembers about him from back before he was Vigilante. At least now it’s only the underwear. He’s grown, apparently.

“Oh.” Economos looks at Adrian. “It’s like a sensory thing?”

Adrian hasn’t stopped moving since they put the new clothes on. He’s moving his hips weird. Which, okay. Chris isn’t complaining. Or he wouldn’t be if they were somewhere else.

“It feels bad,” Adrian repeats. “I could probably tune it out if I wasn’t already itchy. But I’m really, really itchy, and I can’t block out both.”

“Yeah, a sensory thing,” Chris confirms. He doesn’t actually know what that means, but Economos seems like he’s relenting. And Chris might be overcompensating in making sure Adrian’s comfortable now since Chris almost got him killed earlier.

Economos groans. “Fine. I’ll go get the right underwear.”

“Okay, can we get off Adrian’s underwear for a second?” Harcourt cuts in. She makes a chopping motion with her hand before anyone can say anything. “Nope. I hear it. But no. Look, Chris and Adrian have to stay here tonight for observation. I’ll do the observation. John, I need you here, too, just in case one or both of them start showing more symptoms.”

“Ooh, Adebayo, are you going to stay too?” Adrian asks.

“For what?” Adebayo asks.

“So you’re not left out,” Adrian says, like it’s obvious. “You’re the only one who doesn’t have to be here.”

“Well, as fun as that sounds…” Adebayo snorts. “Keeya’s parents are in town, so as much as I actually would like to stay here and avoid them, I have to go have dinner with my in-laws.” She puts a hand on Adrian’s shoulder and scratches one of his rashy spots. “But thanks for not wanting me to be left out.”

“Can you go a little to the left?” Adrian asks, rolling his shoulders.

Adebayo leaves, and, after getting strict instructions on the right kind of boxers Adrian likes, Economos follows. Harcourt fucks off to the other room for observation or whatever. She can take off her hazmat suit in the other room, so that’s probably the big draw.

Chris and Adrian have cots set up in the office room. They wouldn’t both fit in the room with the couch, since it’s also doubling as a file storage room now. Plus Chris is a little nervous Judomaster’s going to pop out of there. Eagly’s making himself a little bed on Adebayo’s desk. Chris is pretty sure Eagly’s looking at that picture of Adebayo’s dogs and planning to go hunt them.

The cot gives an ominous creak when Chris sits on it. “Harcourt,” Chris calls out. “These don’t seem very sturdy.”

“Murn got them when all this first started,” Harcourt says through the intercom thing. “He said they’re rated to hold supers. You’ll be fine.”

Chris doesn’t think that’s true, and she didn’t need to phrase it like that, but there’s no real point in arguing. “Hey,” Chris says to Adrian. “You want to watch a movie before we go to sleep?”

He wants to be too tired out to think. As soon as he starts trying to sleep, everything he’s been holding off throughout the day slams into him and he falls apart. He doesn’t want Harcourt or Economos to notice.

“Okay,” Adrian says. “I can’t sleep in this underwear, anyway.”

They move over to the couch and crowd close together to watch on Chris’s phone. Adrian apparently can’t sit still in that underwear, either. He’s acting like he has ants in his pants. Chris doesn’t call him on it because all this is Chris’s fault in the first place. Economos gets back about twenty minutes into the movie and tosses a package of blue plaid boxers at Adrian’s head.

“Oh, thanks, man,” Adrian says, so relieved Chris can actually see Economos’s annoyance slip away.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Economos says. He goes into the other room with Harcourt. Adrian strips off his sweats and the boxer briefs right there.

“Hey!” Harcourt says. “You didn’t want me to watch you shower but you’re changing your underwear right here?”

“I turned my back!” Adrian defends himself. “It’s just an ass.” He actually sighs when he gets the boxers on. “So much better.” He comes back to the couch with Chris and falls asleep in about thirty seconds.

“Is that a problem or does he always fall asleep like that?” Economos asks through the intercom.

“He gets really tired after fights,” Chris says. “But that was faster than normal.” He cranes his neck around to squint down at Adrian. “He’s breathing fine.”

“I bet his body burns through a lot of energy with the healing,” Economos muses. “He’s probably going to be starving pretty soon.”

“Yeah, that’s usually how it goes,” Chris agrees.

Adrian’s head drops down to Chris’s shoulder. Chris looks down at him and remembers what he looked like when he was lying in a heap on the warehouse floor, lips blue. Chris’s fault. He thinks of Keith’s body, jerking on the ground until it went too still. Chris’s fault. He imagines Adrian going still like that, not breathing anymore.

Chris shudders a little and wraps his arm around Adrian’s shoulders, pulling him more comfortably into Chris’s side. He can feel Adrian breathing like this.

Chris wishes he had some whiskey or something to help put him to sleep. But they don’t have any alcohol in the office, and it would probably go against protocol when they’re looking for unusual reactions anyway. Instead, he watches the whole movie with Adrian’s light, snuffling breaths on his neck. Figures he wouldn’t snore if every broken nose he gets heals overnight.

When the movie ends, he picks Adrian up and carries him back over to the cot. Adrian cracks an eye open. “Huh?” he asks sleepily. “Why’d you carry me?”

“Thought you’d be too tired to walk,” Chris says. “Didn’t know you were going to wake up and make it weird.”

“Mm, sorry,” Adrian says. He obligingly closes his eye. He yawns. “Thanks.”

Chris laughs a little as he deposits Adrian gently onto his cot. “Night, man.”

“Night,” Adrian murmurs.

Chris stares at the dark ceiling for a long time. He can feel his dad and Keith and Rick Flag hovering around the edge of his consciousness, but he counts Adrian’s breaths to keep them all away. He wishes he had his music to crank up and drown everything out. He can feel his throat getting tight. He reminds himself he can’t freak out with Harcourt and Economos watching.

“Hey, P,” Adrian whispers.

“What?” Chris says back. What’s the point of whispering if they’re both awake?

“Can we go to Vegas?”

“The fuck? What?” Chris asks. He has no idea what he expected Adrian to ask, but that was nowhere near the realm of possibility in his mind.

“For my birthday. Can we all go to Vegas? I’ve never been.”

“Dude, your birthday’s like five months away,” Chris points out, bewildered by this line of thinking. “We don’t have to plan it now.”

“But do you think everyone would like going to Vegas?” Adrian’s probably a little delirious right now, if Economos is right about his body needing sleep to heal. Then again, it would be hard to tell delirium from Adrian’s personality.

“Sure, I’m sure everyone would like Vegas,” Chris says. “Who doesn’t like Vegas?”

“So you like Vegas?” Adrian presses.

“Sure,” Chris repeats. “Lotta desperate hot babes. Gambling, booze, buffets. Neon lights, people everywhere, huge crowds, lots of noise…” Chris breaks off. He didn’t mean to say that stuff out loud. He actually doesn’t like Vegas all that much.

“Hm.” Adrian’s quiet for a minute. “Maybe not Vegas.”

Chris sighs. “If you want to go to Vegas, we can go to Vegas.”

“There’s probably a lot of criminals in Vegas,” Adrian points out. “I don’t want to be working on my birthday.”

“Yeah, except you love taking out criminals,” Chris says.

“Not when you won’t let me kill them anymore.”

“Well, maybe for your birthday,” Chris says.

“Yes!”

“But it has to be someone really bad. And we have to be positive they’re guilty.”

“I’ll find someone on the sex offender registry,” Adrian says. “That always used to be my Saturday night plan.”

“Okay,” Chris says. “We’ll kill a pedophile on your birthday.” Maybe he can talk Adrian out of it by then. And if not, well...Chris will make sure it's, like, the worst pedophile they can find.

Adrian hums contentedly. “It’s gonna be the best birthday ever.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Chris asks. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m going,” Adrian says. “But you’re not. You’re thinking a lot.”

Chris doesn’t say anything for a minute. He feels young, lying in the dark, whispering secrets across the room. He didn’t go to a lot of sleepovers as a kid, but he did go once in a while when his dad was too drunk to notice, and this feels a little like that.

“You almost died today,” Chris finally says softly.

“I almost die a lot,” Adrian dismisses it.

“Not like this, though,” Chris says. “You’re always still up and moving, even when you’re hurt. You get tortured, you get shot, you get blown up, and you’re still going. You didn’t even get hit this time. You just…stopped breathing.”

“Sorry,” Adrian says, sounding a little confused.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Chris says. “I just…you know.”

Adrian waits for a second. “Know what?”

Chris sighs. “I don’t want you to die, Adrian. That’s all.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a while. “It was my fault,” Chris says softly. Maybe Adrian fell asleep. Maybe he didn’t hear.

“What?” Adrian asks. So much for that.

“I told you to take off your mask,” Chris reminds him.

“I don’t remember that,” Adrian admits. After thinking it over for a minute, he says, “But it was just a test, right? You gave me a test and I failed. It’s my—”

“No, man, stop,” Chris cuts him off. It would be nice to let himself off the hook with Adrian’s convoluted logic, but that doesn’t seem fair to Adrian after he almost died. “It wasn’t a test. I was just being stupid. It was my fault. And you could’ve died.”

Adrian sighs. “Okay.”

Chris hears Adrian get up, and then he feels his body heat at his back. “What are you doing?” Chris asks.

"You are really not good at sleeping alone," Adrian says. He elbows Chris about fourteen times in fourteen different places, all in the span of one second.

“Ow, the fuck are you doing? How many fucking elbows do you have?”

“Just two,” Adrian says. “You’ve seen them both.”

“Why are you—” Chris stops when Adrian wraps his arm around his waist.

“It’s not your fault,” Adrian murmurs in Chris’s ear. “Or maybe it is. It kind of sounds like it is. But that’s okay. I’m not mad. And I’m not dead. It’s hard to kill me.”

“Good thing,” Chris mutters.

“Yeah. Because you don’t want me to die.” There’s a smile in Adrian’s voice.

“Of course I don’t want you to die,” Chris says, barely above a whisper. After a second, he adds, “Who else would watch Eagly when I’m gone? He doesn’t like anyone else.”

Adrian huffs and tightens his arm around Chris’s waist. “Now be quiet,” he murmurs in Chris’s ear. “Please. I’m tired.”

“Wait, V,” Chris says. “Maybe we should switch around. You’re the one who almost died. I should be making you feel better.”

“This is making me feel better,” Adrian says, more asleep than awake. “Shh.”

Chris can’t really help the way his muscles unclench with Adrian at his back. He can imagine what his father would have to say about this. Relaxing instantly because a man’s holding him. Only able to sleep with his little boyfriend curled up behind him. Being the little spoon like a pussy.

Adrian presses his face into the crook of Chris’s neck, breath steady and warm. He’s alive. He didn’t die in Chris’s arms. He didn’t die at all. It isn’t Chris’s fault this time. They’ll wake up tomorrow and Adrian will be annoying as shit, just like always. And he’ll be here, just like always.

Chris rests one hand on Adrian’s arm around his waist and lets the last of the tension seep out of his muscles. He ignores Harcourt and Economos in the other room. He mentally flips his dad’s ghost the bird. And he closes his eyes and goes to sleep to the sound of Adrian’s breath in his ear.

The cot breaks about ten seconds later and sends them both crashing to the floor. Because of course it does.

Adrian’s completely back to normal in the morning, no hint of a rash or anything. Economos shakes his head. “Well, good for you, man. Must be nice.”

“It is,” Adrian says with a little smirk. He caught the sarcasm that time, obviously. “Eagly, you should come eat some breakfast.” He goes over to Adebayo’s desk with Eagly and starts fussing over him. Chris watches for a second.

Harcourt comes to stand next to him. “I was worried about him yesterday, you know.”

Chris looks over at her. “I didn’t think you weren’t. What do you mean?”

She sighs. “When I was telling you not to bring him back to the van.” He remembers when he thought she was mad at him for jeopardizing the mission and realizes she was actually mad at herself for not seeming worried enough about Adrian.

“You had to worry about everyone,” Chris says. “That’s not a bad thing. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else. I even forgot about Eagly.”

She studies his face for a second and then nods. “I’m glad you have him,” she says.

“Eagly?” Chris asks.

Harcourt rolls his eyes. “Adrian.”

“Oh.” Chris looks over at her. Somehow he can tell she’s saying more than just what she’s saying. She’s saying a door just closed between them. Chris…expected to feel worse than this.

She gives him a little smile, not quite sad, so his understanding must show on his face. “I don’t know if there’s room in there for someone else,” she says, tapping his chest once.

“There’s always room in my bed,” he says, but it falls a little flat.

She scoffs. “Sure, if I’m dying.”

“Again,” he points out. After a beat, he says, “I got room for a friend, you know. I don’t have a lot of those.”

She smiles at him for real this time. “A friend,” she echoes. “Yeah. That sounds nice. I don’t have a lot of those, either.”

They watch Adrian try to feed Eagly jerky and Economos jump every time Eagly squawks. It’s nice. Chris has never been friends with a woman he wanted to sleep with before. Hell, Adebayo’s the first woman he’s been friends with, period, and he really only didn’t want to sleep with her because he knew she was a lesbian.

Not that he wouldn’t want—he stops that train of thought. Adrian tried to make him read some article about straight men hassling lesbians. Chris didn’t read it, but he gets the gist of it. He did point out that it shouldn’t apply to him since he’s not straight. But okay. He gets it.

Adrian tosses a piece of jerky in the air and Eagly catches it perfectly. Adrian looks over at Chris with a big, doofy grin on his face, and Chris can’t help but smile back.

Yeah, he thinks. Okay. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to make anything with Adrian more than what they are right now. He doesn’t know if they need to. But he knows that this, right here, with Adrian and Eagly and Harcourt and Economos and Adebayo, is more than just enough. It’s good. It’s exactly what he needs.