Chapter Text
Alex didn’t go back to sleep. Instead they lay awake listening to Morgan messing with the latest project on their workbench; usually this would be accompanied by Morgan’s low, muttering commentary as they worked, but not today. Alex tended to turn their super hearing down or off when they weren’t using it, but right then they strained to hear anything but Morgan’s steady, even breathing and the clink of components.
Morgan worked in excruciating silence until the sun was up. Finally, when Alex had stewed in their own misery so much they were almost ready to actually apologise with words, Morgan must have noticed the time. They exhaled roughly, downed their tools, and left the apartment like they were running a timed puzzle gauntlet (which, to be fair, they were – they’d set it themself). By the time Alex cracked open their bedroom door Morgan was long gone.
They did all the chores by hand that day. They even went berry picking in the rooftop forest and baked. Their phone stayed deafeningly silent – not even one of Morgan’s usual incomprehensible memes layered under references to obscure conspiracy theories. While the pie was baking, Alex spent a solid hour composing a text message.
Will you be home soon? Too needy.
You'd better not be avoiding me Too obvious.
Please come back, I cleaned everything Way too desperate.
If you don't come back I'll Nope, too threatening.
In the end they just sent a picture of the pie cooling on the rack.
Read 16:53.
Maybe Alex wasn't the most emotionally intuitive of people, but even they could take a hint that glaring. They wandered up to the roof so that they could brood with an aesthetic thunderstorm; they'd worked hard on that pie and they weren't about to ruin it with rainwater. Okay, so they could just undo any damage, but it wouldn't be the same.
Half an hour later, when Alex's hair was whipping dramatically in the wind they'd summoned and the entire world's weather system was ruined (again), their phone finally dinged with a reply.
👍
Alex was contemplating hurling their phone into the nearest interdimensional portal when they had a better idea. They dismissed the thunderstorm, causing at least two hurricanes and destroying the careers of several meteorologists worldwide, and tapped the second contact in their messages list.
You’re not in love with Morgan anymore, right?
huh, I hadn’t noticed but no. how about you? >:D
1. You’re a tenured professor at a respected institution, stop using ascii emojis to punctuate your sentences
2. Shut the fuck up, Ohio
get rekt, as the youth say. why are you texting me?
I need you and Dog Boy to come for dinner. Wait. Barnaby’s not in love with Morgan either, right?
ask him yourself, coward.
I CAN LITERALLY KILL YOU WITH A THOUGHT
but then who would you complain to about your painfully hilarious crush?
Alex considered that interdimensional portal again. Maybe they could throw Ohio in alongside their phone and solve two problems at once?
Just fucking come for dinner okay?
sure, what time?
7pm. Bring alcohol.
There. Now the evening would be awkward for reasons other than Morgan’s clear unwillingness to be in the same room alone with Alex.
Since the first thing out of Ohio’s mouth after Morgan got home (precisely five minutes after Ohio and Barnaby showed up, leading Alex to suspect they’d been camping out in the hallway ceiling vents) was, “So, how’d you break the curse?” the evening was, in fact, agonisingly awkward.
For Alex, that was. Morgan seemed absolutely fine. They shrugged off Ohio’s question with a casual, “Oh, Alex broke it for me,” and apparently didn’t see Ohio’s subsequent Incredibly Unsubtle Eyebrow Wiggles, or Alex’s responding death glare (which they remembered at the last second to make metaphorical rather than literal). Alex busied themself with the coq au vin, letting Morgan take over hosting duties.
It was Barnaby, of all people, who sidled into the kitchen to check on them. “C-can I help with an-anything?” he murmured, under cover of Morgan retelling their harrowing encounter with Chad whilst under the curse.
“No,” said Alex, scowling at the dripping bouquet garni. They stirred the thickener rather violently, bending the teaspoon.
Barnaby leaned against the counter, apparently perfectly content to hover next to the person who could unmake him with a snap of their fingers. He hadn’t even had the decency to bring Kotetsu within touching distance; he was curled up under Morgan’s workbench, probably getting ghost tetanus just by being near it. In the living room, Morgan laughed at something Ohio said. Alex snapped the teaspoon.
Barnaby handed them a new one without comment. Alex worked in silence for a while, decisively Not Listening to Morgan having a good time, and Barnaby just… stood there. Watching Alex simmer the wine sauce. Watching Alex chop the parsley. Watching Alex accidentally split the nice wooden chopping board their dad had made them. Eventually Alex couldn’t take it any longer. “What do you want, Dog Boy?”
“I- I mean, world puh-peace didn’t g-go so well that one time, so…” Barnaby shrugged.
Alex growled.
Barnaby patted their shoulder, as if Alex wasn’t liable to literally bite his hand off for trying. They didn’t, of course, because no matter what Morgan said they did have self-control. But they could have. If they’d wanted to. “Just… talk to Mo-Morgan.”
Self-control, Alex. In lieu of an answer, they levitated the plates with a flourish and poured a themself a very large glass of the remaining burgundy. They’d finished it before the plates reached the table. “Make yourself useful and serve, Dog Boy. Food’s up!”
Ohio and Morgan, who had been wrestling on the couch over who got to keep the empty wizard’s orb, froze in mid-mutual headlock. “Winner gets the orb,” said Morgan.
In the next second, they were both flinging themselves across the room at the dining table. Ohio slid in next to Barnaby just ahead of Morgan, tripping them into their own seat and whooping victoriously. “Hand it over, Generator.”
“Hand what over?” said Morgan innocently. Before Ohio could start another argument, they turned to Alex, almost meeting their eyes. “And since when do we have a dining table?” Their tone was deliberately light.
Alex took their cue gratefully. “Since forever, dude, it was buried under your workbench spillover.”
“I needed that!”
“I didn’t get rid of it!” Alex protested. The last time they’d tried to clean up one of Morgan’s spillover projects they hadn’t spoken to Alex in anything but morse code for a week. “It’s in the hall closet, I expanded the pocket dimension.”
Morgan’s smile was brief and half-hearted, a reminder that this détente was built on shaky ground. Alex pushed the thought aside and tried to enjoy dinner. Everything was fine. Everything would be fine. They just had to forget the whole true love’s kiss thing ever happened. Right?
Right.
Two weeks later, Alex was in hell.
(Not literally – visiting a metaphorical afterlife was absolutely on their to do list, but they sure as fuck weren’t starting with hell. Never mind having to decide which version of hell they were going to check out, hell as a concept just… didn’t do it for them. If they were going to visit a Judeo-Christian afterlife it was definitely going to be one with biblically accurate angels wielding flaming swords.)
Everything was not fine. Alex hadn’t realised how much time they spent in Morgan’s personal space until suddenly they Weren’t Allowed. Morgan hadn’t made an announcement about it or anything, but with the way they tensed up every time Alex came too close they didn’t need to.
Alex kept coming home to find Morgan either so neck deep in some kind of unspeakable mechanical project that they barely acknowledged Alex’s presence, or halfway through one of their comfort horror movies. Neither of those would’ve been a problem, except… Alex could hear Morgan’s heart rate rise when Alex’s key turned in the lock, so it wasn’t like they didn’t know they were home. And they usually invited Alex to watch their stupid gross horror movies with them (Alex threatened to hold their hand every time, Morgan agreed to let them hold their bionic fingers, they attached new fingers from Morgan’s backups afterwards; it was a whole routine – they even had a special little dustpan for the splintered remains of the fingers Alex destroyed – and Alex missed it).
They wanted to tell Morgan about their day, get their scathing commentary on the heroes Alex had eviscerated, flex about the trophies they’d claimed for their not-hoard… but even though Morgan made a point of asking, it wasn’t the same. There were walls up that Alex hadn’t even known had been down before. No matter how much Morgan pretended nothing had changed it was excruciatingly clear that knowing for sure that Alex was in love with them had really fucked things up.
They must have suspected for a while, of course. You didn’t go to just anyone and get them to give you true love’s kiss. Or maybe Morgan did? Maybe if it hadn’t worked with Alex they would have tried Barnaby next. Alex turned that idea over in their head for a couple of days, wondering if they could somehow have salvaged things if they’d been smart enough to see what was coming. But no, Morgan had to have at least suspected. It wasn’t like Alex had been subtle. But thinking someone might be in love with you and knowing they were in love with you were two very different things, and apparently the latter had been a bit too much.
In short: it sucked. A lot. Alex maybe kidnapped Ducky Farms a few more times than usual. Murder tag was cathartic, and he really was the best at it (after Alex themself, of course).
The worst part was Sunday dinner with their parents. Morgan begged off the first one, claiming… some excuse Alex absolutely didn’t pay attention to because it was bullshit. They told their parents Morgan had picked up a bug at the farmers’ market and listened to a two-hour lecture on how to better take care of their spouse’s health (“No, Mom, I really don’t think they need – okay, okay, fine, I’ll take the soup, god you’re embarrassing.”).
Today’s visit was potentially even more torturous than fending off their parents' worried questions, because the moment they arrived at the farm it was like a switch had flipped. Morgan was in their space again, all casual touches and banter, like the last two weeks had never happened.
Alex helped their mom with dinner and tried to ignore that they could still feel Morgan's fingers running through their hair as they passed behind Alex on the way to their dad's workshop, or the lingering warmth of Morgan's hand in theirs from the walk up the driveway, or the weight of Morgan's head in their lap as they spun wild tales about their off-planet trip to enthral Alex's parents.
It made Alex's stomach turn every time Morgan said their name and they realised this had been missing , that Morgan had barely said it at all lately and Alex hadn't even noticed. Every time Morgan met their eyes or smiled at them their throat tightened traitorously and they wondered… if Morgan was this good at faking it, what did that mean for… well, for everything?
Hell had nothing on this. Alex was barely keeping it together. They clung to every point of contact like Morgan was going to disappear any second, desperately trying to act like this wasn’t the first time they’d touched in two weeks. They hoarded every conspiratorial look, every grin, every laugh, hoping it wasn’t obvious how starved they were for Morgan’s affection after so long without.
Perhaps sensing that Alex had reached their limit, Morgan blessedly pretended to be tired before the board games really got started. They disentangled themselves from each other on the couch as though it was any other Sunday, Morgan feigning a yawn as they said their goodbyes. Alex could feel themself about to crack as they counted down the seconds until Morgan pulled away again.
The moment the apartment materialised around them, Morgan drooped with relief and stepped quickly out of Alex’s space. Alex’s self control – tenuous at the best of times, and currently battered by two solid weeks of even more miserable pining than they’d believed themself capable of – hit a breaking point.
“Do you need me to move out?” they blurted, head empty of anything but I need to fix this.
“What?” Morgan had retreated to the kitchen. Their shoulders stiffened where they were deliberately inspecting the coffee supplies. They spun around, but they weren’t meeting Alex’s eyes again. “No! Why would I want that?” They turned away again just as quickly, as though they’d never meant to face Alex in the first place.
Alex flung themself onto the sofa in despair. It was so tempting to just turn into a cat and let it go. But their whole life felt like it was disappearing into the black hole of their stupid Feelings and they wanted it back. And so, like the obnoxious theatre kid they were, they draped an arm aesthetically over their head and proclaimed, “Because you hate me now.”
Morgan, who was stirring lord knows what into their instant coffee grounds, groaned. “Oh my god, you dramatic motherfucker. I don’t hate you.”
“I’m sure the kitchen counter believes you,” said Alex sarcastically, when Morgan couldn’t even turn around to lie to them.
Morgan stomped into the living room, clutching their ‘I Would Download A Car’ mug like a shield. They met Alex’s eyes with the solemnity of the condemned. “I don’t hate you,” they said firmly. “And I don’t want you to move out.”
Alex rolled their eyes. “Very convincing, gold star.”
Morgan slumped into the armchair they’d claimed as their new favourite spot when cuddling up on the couch with Alex had suddenly become Not Cool. “Look, this whole thing –” Morgan flailed their hand between the two of them emphatically “– is a problem because I don’t hate you! Obviously!”
Alex frowned. “What about that is obvious, exactly? Look, I get that you’re uncomfortable and I swear I wasn’t ever going to say anything –”
Morgan laughed shortly, looking deep into their mug like it held the secrets of the universe. Maybe it did. Weirder things had happened in this apartment. “Yeah, I know. Kind of unexpectedly nice of you, but.” They shrugged. “I appreciated it.”
Alex swallowed. It was one thing to know you didn’t stand a chance, but a whole other thing to know you didn’t stand a chance. They forced some nonchalance into their voice, trying for a smile. “So, uh, are you gonna be weird about it forever?” Please don’t be weird about it forever.
“You don’t think I should be weird about confessing my love to my platonic spouse via true love’s kiss at four AM because my brother-in-law is whipped?” Morgan scoffed, making deep and meaningful eye contact with the floor.
“I mean I –” Alex’s mouth snapped closed abruptly. What. “What?”
Morgan groaned. “Don’t. Just don’t. I get it, and I really appreciate you not saying anything all these years –”
Alex teleported to the arm of Morgan’s armchair, disappeared their coffee, and slapped a careful hand over Morgan’s mouth all in the same split second. “Years?” they croaked.
Morgan rolled their eyes and tugged Alex’s hand away. “Like you didn’t know. Where did you put my coffee?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Alex said, simultaneously returning Morgan’s favourite mug from the centre of the sun to the kitchen cupboard and sliding into their lap.
Morgan made a sound somewhere between a cough and a squeak. Alex smiled. Everything felt sharper, fizzier, more dangerous all of a sudden.
“I –” Morgan cleared their throat, eyeing Alex’s hands on their shoulders like venomous snakes, “uh, I. What?”
“You love me,” said Alex hesitantly, unable to fully reign in their excitement. The fizzy feeling bubbled through them, stronger. Their fingers curled into the collar of Morgan’s ratty old hoodie almost involuntarily.
Morgan sighed, closing their eyes and letting their head drop back against the chair. “Obviously.”
“Like, romantically.” They couldn’t help but lean closer, soaking up the moment like a cat in a sunbeam.
“Fucking yes, romantically,” said Morgan, sounding completely despairing.
Oh. That feels… They tugged at Morgan’s collar, nudging them upright without tearing the neckline. “You know,” they said, when Morgan reluctantly met their eyes, “I wear my wedding ring all the time.”
Morgan huffed, unimpressed. “Yeah, I know. So do I. So what?”
“Morgan.” Alex’s smile widened. “Why do you wear your wedding ring all the time?” They pulled Morgan a little closer. They could hear their own heartbeat racing with excitement.
“Because I –” Morgan’s eyes widened in realisation, putting the pieces together. At last. For a puzzle master they’d taken a while to solve this one. “Wait. You –?”
Alex nodded. They could feel the flush on their cheeks move down their entire body. “I…” They trailed off, biting their lip. Unexpectedly, the words wouldn’t come. They moved closer, sliding their fingers up Morgan’s neck and into their hair. “You…”
A slow smile dawned over Morgan’s face like sunrise. Their hands, which they had been keeping firmly and deliberately Away from their lap-invader, crept tentatively to Alex’s waist. “You wanna try that again?” they said softly, lifting their head to brush their lips very gently against Alex’s as they spoke.
Alex destroyed five nascent galaxies in an effort not to burn up from the inside. “Not really,” they breathed, savouring the moment. They would absolutely insist until their dying day that they didn’t have a hoard, but this? This. They were keeping this feeling.
“So… are you sure that love curse is broken?” Morgan murmured, their mouth brushing against Alex’s ever so slowly. “‘Cause I still feel, like, a little bit cursed… we might need to do that true love’s kiss thing ag–.”
Alex didn’t wait for them to finish. It never hurts to be sure.