[synopsis] after spending his childhood battling monsters that even the best of federal agents couldn't handle, mike wheeler makes it his lifelong promise to change the system of knowledge in and beyond human bodies and minds, specializing in those included in non-human creatures with a secret agency known as the specialists of unnatural creatures unit, or SOUNCU. however, a battle between his own head and his heart takes control of his actions when he gets injured during a mission, only with you, his assigned partner, to take care of him.
[mentions] special agent au, specialagent! + aftercollege! mike wheeler x specialagent! + aftercollege! reader, angst + fluff, violence + blood, forced proximity, argument, forbidden romance, other d&d and fictional folktale villains (in this fic it's the hat man or scratch), set in the 90s
[author's note] hi guys :p this is my first mike wheeler fic! i hope u guys enjoy... pls let me know if u want more of this special agent kind of fic
being transferred from the intelligence branch of the fbi to such an unknown branch of federal law enforcement meant jumping straight into frigid waters, not knowing if you'd ever be able to surface. it was within your dive that you were pulled up by agent wheeler.
prior to the position you obtained at SIUNC, you were stuck in cubicles doing paperwork and research to aid in every branch of the fbi with hot pots of coffee consistently running and the typing of keyboards constantly in your ears. you were insanely knowledgable and disgustingly educated; frankly, the higher-ups in the field knew you were becoming overqualified. they promoted you to an agent at the specialists of unnatural creatures unit of the FBI; though you weren't exactly aware of this units' existence, your farewell party came shortly after your meeting.
you were assigned agent wheeler's partner shortly after your trainings and, at first, he seemed like a cocky know-it-all who didn't have much room for connection. every word he spoke was about the job: a new creature, or a new scientist behind a creature, or a new location that was somehow creating something that seemed impossible to exist.
actually, many aspects of your job seemed impossible to exist at first; you stared at the room of people speaking about their experience with creatures like "demogorgans" and "demodogs," as if you were left out of an inside joke. agent wheeler didn't necessarily help your feelings as an outsider, as he constantly assumed you knew all that he was speaking about. you didn't like feeling stupid when, in your previous branch, you were known as the smartest there was.
it was through him speaking of his experiences that you realized his passion for defeating evil was from fear; behind all of the smart-ass moments was someone who was truly afraid of the world ending, the same way the world almost ended when he was a child, tween, and teenager. you watched the way that his brows would furrow, breath would become heavier, and eyes began to widen whenever he spoke of his near death experiences and trauma. sympathizing with him soon became easier and allowing your genuine curiosity to thrive in your new environment aided in getting comfortable with him.
it was through questions, answers, conversations, and late-night chinese food that you truly began to connect with him over time. in fact, sometimes it would be him who asked the questions and you who would answer. however, it was also through shared glances, "accidental" nudges, and close proximity from reading the same files that you began to wonder if you were getting too close.
you know to never think of your partner the way that you do; you know that falling for someone in such a dangerous field is never a good idea, but you felt some sort of tension between you and your partner you started to like the fact that he was so focused on work; maybe it was a good thing that he was "agent wheeler" to you instead of "mike." there was simply too much on the line.
you were currently in the office, reading a case file titled "scratch," with him; you each had a cup of coffee and a croissant (courtesy of the higher-ups) beside you, as you both circled, read, and spoke. this was what most days consisted of; you hadn't stepped out of your safety bubble.
"can i think logically for a sec?" you asked, taking a sip of the warm, bitter liquid.
agent wheeler snickered, "is anything about this job logical?"
you playfully punched his shoulder, "shut up. let me speak."
"okay, okay- i jest. what's on your mind?"
"what if it's just, i don't know, sleep paralysis? i mean- in these case files, it's talks about how each victim was sleepy, or tired, or unconscious. i know we work with the most insane shit, but, could it be that this case has something normal that people struggle with?"
he furrowed his brows and loosened the collar of his button-up, "i guess, yea. the concept of being unconscious is interesting though."
"i mean, one thing i learned about being unconscious is that for some individuals it opens something like a portal between realms. there's a lot of cases i've studied where sleeping or even just passing out from dehydration or starvation makes you spiritually and physically weaker, while breaking the barriers between our world and others."
"so, you're saying that," you take a bite of your croissant, "whatever this is, could be a being from a whole other dimension?"
"yeah. anything is possible."
"so, how do we.. stop it..?"
the room that he took you to looked straight out of frankenstein's lab; two cylindrical chambers that illuminated a strange, blue light, with pipes and wires coming out of the top in every which way. computer screens covered the room top to bottom, different codes and images shown on each one. the room itself was dim other than the low light of the machines; as he stood in front of you, you noticed that the light hit his cheekbones and revealed the depths of his facial structure. honestly, it was hard to look away.
he puts his arm on your shoulder, "hello?"
"i've been speaking for the past," he looked at his watch, "two minutes. something on your mind?"
you swallowed, "oh, i'm fine- sorry, i spaced out. what were you saying?"
"these are hyperactive reality quantum universe shifting machines that would basically take us to scratch's realm. we'd have a limit of 48 hours there, though, any longer and we risk being stuck."
"are we trying to kill it or something?"
"what?" he squinted, "we're gathering data so that we're aware with what we're dealing with and how we get it out of our universe, and then eventually we'll come back if we really have to."
pressing a button to the right of the machines, he opened the wall to reveal hidden weaponry: various guns, lasers, knives, blades, and more. he began to put some in a case, as well as in the holster of his jeans.
"stay with me at all times."
"if we only have 2 days to get data, shouldn't we split up? cover more ground-"
he cuts you off, gazing deeply into your eyes with a passion you haven't seen in such a seemingly lifeless man, "no, you're staying with me. end of story."
"what happens if we don't get enough data?"
"the machines have a cool down period. we won't be able to go back for around a month. what's your specialty?"
"like," he reaches for a gun and a blade, "close range or far?"
he briefly pauses his packing, "what do you mean? i thought you've been apart of the fbi for a while, haven't you?"
"well, yeah, but i stayed indoors. i was in intelligence."
his brows furrowed as he turned to you, "so, you have no clue what you're doing."
"now that i know that, maybe you should stay back. i can handle this."
"what?" you raised your voice, "i'm capable of doing whatever it is that you're doing, agent."
he went silent for a moment, before closing his eyes and sighing.
breaking the silence, he continues, "i'm just saying that maybe you should stay back since you don't know what you're doing yet. maybe wait for a simpler case."
"it's now or never; you've said this how many times before?" you argued.
his voice started to gain volume, booming against the walls of the room, "those other cases were even riskier! i couldn't trust that you'd be mentally there."
you weren't going to give up. you were as stubborn as you are smart
"no, you're not. stop arguing with me when i'm just trying to keep you safe-"
you cut him off, taking the case of bladed weaponry and first aid out of his hands "enough with this shit, wheeler. i was trained for this- we went through the same training. i won't learn if you don't let me."
he stared down at you, inching closer to you. the tension between your bodies could be cut with a knife. he took a deep breath, staring deeply at the glare your eyes gave him.
"you're staying behind me."
the realm was dark and desolate; reminiscent of an abandoned city. it was uncomfortably cold, like you were walking through ghosts or ghouls. for another universe, it very closely represented the slums of chicago or new york. the sky was a darker shade of blue, which lit the architecture around you. though it seemed abandoned, you heard whispers and murmurs around you, almost as if you messed up a dance on a stage in front of an entire school. you watched the swings of the playground in front of you move on its own, trying to convince yourself that it was probably the wind or an animal. agent wheeler studied your face, which held a mixture of worry and curiosity plastered all over your features.
you flinched as his hand touched your shoulder from behind, "you can always go back."
he looked at your outfit; a collared blouse, low-rise flared jeans, and platform boots. there was no way you expected to be put out into the field today.
"you cold?" he questioned.
"i'm alright," you answered whilst marveling at the world around you, "i'm used to cold weather."
"suit yourself. get behind me."
he moved in front of you, to which you followed his movements. walking down the street, you were both silent besides the sounds of footsteps; occasionally, it felt like too many footsteps for it to simply be yours and his. he glanced back every now and then, making sure you were close to him, offering glances that asked if you were alright. you'd nod, and the both of you would continue your trek.
the red lightbulb of a building caught both of your attention, contrasting against the blue of your surroundings.
he points, "i think that could be something."
"take out your blade. we'll see if there's anything there."
you did as you were told, before he reached into the holster in his jeans for a laser gun. looking above, the sign read, "the two of you slowly crept up to the wooden door, attempting to make your footsteps as light as possible. his hand reached in front of him for the doorknob and twisted steadily.
suddenly, a sharpened piece of steel pierced through the door, slicing a gash into the right side of his rib. a laugh was heard on the other side, alongside a bounty of even more whispers. after a couple seconds, a stinging sensation occurred as the smell of metal reached his nose. he crouched over, holding his cut and letting out a mixture of a groan and a cry.
somehow, you mustered up your strength and took him to a nearby building, helping him walk by placing his arm around your neck. the sign outside read, "pinecrest estates;" maybe it was some sort of apartment. you rattled doorknobs around you, trying to find one that was unlocked.
his breath became somewhat labored from breathing through the pain, "i'm fine- we're running out of time. it's been three hours."
you rolled your eyes, "wheeler, i just watched you get sliced by some sick freak behind a door with some steel. it could get infected."
on the eleventh try, one of the apartment doors opened, revealing a dusty, dirty, cobweb-infested suite. if you could guess by the furniture who lived there previously, if anyone did, you'd assume it was some grandma. the couch was floral, accompanied by a powdery table with a victorian lamp beside, which surprisingly worked when you pulled the beaded, metal string. the air smelt reminiscent of baby powder and magnolias; if you weren't in such a creepy realm, you'd feel somewhat nostalgic.
you gently placed him down on the couch, to which he let out a small grunt. reaching into your briefcase, you found the small pouch of bandaids, anti-septic, gauze, a stitching kit, and other miscellaneous health products. you knelt beside him, knees touching the cold, hardwood floor. paralleling the argument you had in your universe, his gaze shifted downwards to look at you.
you cleared your throat, "wheeler."
"can you, uh, take off your sweaters?"
his eyes widened; for a moment, he forgot the situation he was in.
"so, i can clean up your wound," you continued.
"oh," his reality was soon brought to him, "yeah."
he took off his gray, canvas jacket before trying, and failing, to remove his collared, striped long sleeve. another groan escaped from his mouth.
"i can help you," you offered.
you acted as if any sudden movements would break him, like a bull in a china shop. you slowly unbuttoned his sweater and felt his eyes staring at you as you started to undress his shirt. pulling his sweater off with caution, your eyes met the wound on his rib; luckily, it wasn't completely deep. it was shallow on the outer areas and deeper towards the middle.
"how does it look?" he questioned.
your fingers traced the skin alongside it; in that moment, agent wheeler felt vulnerable. you were watching him in his own weakness. he wasn't the type to allow people to see him when he's broken, whether mentally or physically, especially after how he grew up with more things to worry about. insecurity crept into his mind; would you still view him the way he wants you to?
"it's not too bad," you responded, "i think only the middle part needs stitches."
"stitches?" he looked down at his body, "i thought it wasn't that deep."
"it's only deep in the middle. i don't think it'll take that long to clean."
you felt his eyes watching you with a pained expression painted onto his face; specifically, his furrowed eyebrows, slightly scrunched nose, and bitten lip. you were preparing the anti-septic to be put into his flesh.
"does it help to look at me?" you ask.
your eyes met his, "i don't know- like, does it help to look at me instead of at your cut?"
he had many thoughts in his head to your question. there were moments where he forgot the cut even existed because he was too focused on the fact that you were the one caring for him, in addition to the fact that, though the room was lit dimly with a lamp, you were the light that illuminated his eyes. that, in and of itself, scared him. obviously, he can't say that.
"hold still, this might hurt," you admitted, "keep your eyes on me if it helps you."
you rubbed his open flesh with the anti-septic on a piece of gauze; he let out a moan of pain and closed his eyes tightly.
"it's okay," he let out through his groans.
you removed the gauze from his wound, before prepping the needle for his stitches.
"this is ironic," you mentioned.
he carried a look of confusion, "what do you mean?"
"you were so hellbent on me not coming because 'i could get hurt,'" you started stitching the middle part of his wound, "when it was you who did."
"rather it be me than you," he softly admitted.
"y'know, i'd prefer it to be neither of us, actually," you joked.
a shared laugh emerged and contrasted from the eerieness of the room, slowly dying down as you focused once again.
"hey," he started, "i'm, uh, i'm sorry."
you finished stitching the wound up and stopped your movements, gazing at him, "for?"
"taking so long to let you come with me on a mission. you're my partner- i need to stop acting like you're not."
you took a deep breath, "can i ask something?"
you got off your knees and sat beside him, his eyes still following you, "why?"
"why were you so hellbent on not letting me come?"
he stiffened, getting up and sitting on his own without the help of the couch's backboard. he opened his mouth, expecting at least something to come out, but nothing did. he paused for a moment, thought long and hard. his eyes held a story that he was about to tell; they held hesitancy at first, but they slowly began to morph into a look that said "fuck it."
"i feel something towards you."
you felt your breath slightly hitch, "what do you mean?"
he attempted to get up, "this is stupid, nevermind- forget i said anything-"
"no," you pulled his hand to sit him down, "continue. please."
there was a decision to be made in mike wheeler's head. there was a devil on his shoulder telling him that if he continues speaking, he would fuck everything up between you and him. the chemistry and connection that built over the months you've known each other would be completely gone, and he wasn't ready for his life to be rid of someone who graced it as much as you did. in fact, the fear of you transferring branches, or getting assigned a new partner, or even sharing the same looks that the both of you exchanged in those late-night case studies was enough to put his feelings away in a box from both you and him
before you were recommended to his boss, he was sure he'd continue working alone; he was brooding, and negative, and serious. definitely more passionate about what he does than any other agent, which is what made him the best. if you told him your thoughts of him when you first met, he would agree; he truly did only care about the job, the title, the redemption that he would receive from all the times he couldn't save people as a teenager.
then, you showed up and ruined that. you made him realize there's more to life than being a hero or a scientist or a genius; there's also the possibility of being a lover. it was impossible for him not to fall for you. in such a dark field of death and the macabre and the supernatural, you were human and unashamed to be. you reminded him that, through all the unnatural and the inorganic, there's humanity even in the darkest depths.
there was an angel on his shoulder, whispering in his ear to be honest; to change his own life instead of waiting for the next creature he defeats to change it for him. there he was, with a cut as deep as a crater, and yet, all he felt was you.
his voice lowered to a whisper, "i'm scared."
"of?" you matched his tone.
and there, the snowball turned into an avalanche.
"i'm scared that one day you'll come with me and it'll be you who's hurt instead of me. it'll be you who's bleeding or you who's in pain and i can't do anything to stop it. i'm scared that one day you'll come with me and that'll be the last time i see you. i can't lose you- i just can't. i don't know what i would do if my days didn't have you in it. i've lost so many people in my life, ever since i was, what, twelve? so many people, and yet, i've never cared about any of them the way i do about you. i know it's fucked up to say, but i just- they aren't you. you are the only you that's in my life. if i lost you, i won't be able to survive that."
for the first time, his last name came out as gentle as a feather, "wheeler.."
"and i know i probably sound insane, but i just need to say it. even if you don't feel the same," he takes another deep breath, "it's now or never."
your hand found its way to cup his jaw and, as you observed his eyes, there was no longer any form of annoyance or anger; it was replaced with vulnerability and fear. your thumb rubbed reassuring strokes on his cheek before you closed the distance between your lips. the first kiss was short and sweet; a trial run into murky waters, just to test the temperature and surroundings. afterwards, the fear in his eyes turned into pure endearment.
you fell first. however, mike wheeler fell hard as he realized he didn't want to let go; in fact, he physically couldn't.
his hands founds their way to your waist as he closed the gap once again, holding you feverishly as if you were going to disappear if he let go. passion erupted as your tongues morphed together, playing a symphony that was always meant to be heard by the both of you. your other hand found its way to his other cheek as you bit his bottom lip, earning a whimper from him. even though you were in such a cold, desolate place, you both felt hot and electrified.
you only pulled away when you both ran out of breath, revealing both of your puffy, wet lips. you stared into each others eyes with a newfound sense of affection.
"wheeler, you must've either lost too much blood or be out of your mind if you think i don't feel the same way," you joked
he gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, "call me mike."
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