sebmickchal installment, superhero verse
for backstory: their powers, seb imprisoning michael causing mick to attack, mick’s apology
and now for the mick tries to prove himself to them part:
They decide a dampener collar would make no sense. Mick’s a supe whose only purpose now is to raise Ferrari’s stocks, and look pretty while doing so. He’ll have to be able to fly around, punch through walls, hurl a whirlwind in a petty thief’s face, and a dampener throws all of that out of the window. So they settle on a shock collar on steroids.
Sebastian spits in their face when they tell him about it. But Ferrari’s not in the habit of listening to their supes. Charles just stares at him with a bland expression. Mick can’t tell if he thinks it a suitable punishment or not.
No matter. Mick will wear it. If it’ll let him stay by Sebastian’s side, well. The irony isn’t lost on him. The collar kicks into gear when Mick strays too far from Sebastian’s or Charles’ vicinity. It’s Ferrari’s way of making sure he stays in line, even though he’s certain neither Sebastian nor Charles relishes the role of babysitter. Mick keeps his head down and attempts to make himself useful. He turns Hurricane Amelia around on her heels and back into the ocean. He pulls stragglers out of a burning building. He watches their backs. Sebastian doesn’t seem to know what to say to him. Charles pretends he doesn’t exist.
It's fine.
Mick only tries it once, takes one step out of the two-mile radius he’s allowed, deep in the night when they’re both asleep and no one’s around to witness yet another horrific mistake. The shock is like a bullet to a rib. He doesn’t try it again.
Until now.
Sebastian’s still fighting. But Charles has a telephone pole sticking out of him. Can supes die? He’s pretty sure they can. It wasn’t too long ago that Sebastian wouldn’t wake up.
“Shit,” Mick’s makeshift bandage—his shirt—wrapped around Charles’ gaping wound is very quickly proving useless. “You’re bleeding out.”
“Keen observation,” Charles says weakly, because even with a magnified splinter in his gut he still won’t give Mick the time of day. Mick can respect that about him actually. “Give me your shirt.”
“What—?”
“Your shirt, idiot,” Charles hisses. And Mick stupidly passes it over. Charles clenches the blood-soaked cloth in between his teeth. “Make sure I don’t move too much.”
“Charles,” is all Mick manages, before Charles places a hand on his own wound and cauterizes it.
The muffled screaming is bad. The jerking while there’s still a stake through him is worse. Mick holds Charles down as best as he can, one arm braced against Charles’ chest, the other hand stroking Charles’ face in a helpless gesture of comfort.
“You’re okay,” Mick says, which is a nonsensical thing to say. “You’re okay, you’re okay, hey. Hey. Wake up. You’re okay.”
Lie upon lie upon lie. That’s what Mick’s life feels like. It’s an eternity before Charles passes out from the pain, and Mick’s left with two options on his bloody hands. One, wait for help. Two, go for help. With the shock collar in play.
The skin around the wound is blistered and scarred from Charles’ own burning. It’ll hold, but not for long. And Sebastian’s tied up at the moment.
Option two it is.
The first shock hits him when he steps out of the blast zone. Mick falls to his knees. He rides it out, gasping like a fish on the ground. And then he gets up and keeps moving. Hospital, he thinks numbly to himself. Get to a hospital. Get help.
Turns out the further you get from Sebastian or Charles, the higher the voltage of shock the collar injects. Twenty more steps later, the pain is so great that Mick spends two useless minutes clawing at his own throat in a desperate attempt to rip the collar off.
Hospital. Charles. Pole. Hospital. Sebastian. Disappointed. Don’t want. Hospital. Must.
Mick heaves himself up and continues.
The next shock nearly paralyzes him. Breathe through collapsed lungs. Iron out burning limbs. Get up. Keep going.
The next sends him into convulsions.
And with the next the seal on his lips breaks, and he screams and cries and whimpers.
Hospital. Charles. Injured. Sebastian. Musn’t. Fail.
His fingers are bloodied raw from scratching at the collar. Mick’s crawling at this point. He’s bitten through his own lip. His chest feels like it’s been hollowed out with a hot poker. His gut churns with lava. Mick’s been through sparring matches with Charles unloading the entire might of the sun and it hasn’t boiled him this way. He’s starting to see things. His father’s face, a red suit. Sebastian, coming toward him. Definitely a mirage.
“You idiot.” When Sebastian’s angry, his accent becomes just that more pronounced. Mick’s never told him, but he likes the sound of it. Reminds him of home. “You goddamn idiot.”
Oh, the pain’s fading away. Huh. Is that the delirium setting in?
Sebastian’s arms are around him. He’s shaking Mick, in that way that speaks of promised violence later, but gentleness now because of the sorry state he’s in. “What were you thinking?”
“Charles,” Mick manages to whisper. “Hurt. Bad.”
“I know, baby,” Sebastian says. Mick’s eyes prickle with tears. He’ll need to examine this reaction later. “He was yelling for me. Said you were off doing something stupid.”
“I keep doing that,” Mick slurs, tongue loosened up from all that voltage splitting his shell apart. “Stupid things. I keep doing stupid things. I’m sorry, Sebastian. Sorry.”
“Okay,” Sebastian soothes. He’s lifting Mick up now, back to the wind like he won’t even let Mick’s element touch him. Mick wants to curl up in his embrace and never leave. “I’ll yell at you later, but it’s okay.”
“Charles,” Mick mumbles. His eyelids are so heavy.
“He’s okay,” Sebastian says. His fingers feel so soft against Mick’s burning cheek. “I promise.”
Sebastian’s never lied to him. Mick lets his eyes slip shut.
He wakes. His neck is on fire.
Wait. His bare neck is on fire.
“I cut it off,” Charles says stiffly from beside him. He still isn’t looking at Mick, but he’s allowing less than a foot’s distance between the two of them now. It’s a start. “It never matched your suit.”
“Sure,” Mick says, hoarse.
Over by the window, Sebastian turns to them both. He smiles. And for a moment, Mick lets himself forget about the pain.