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“Are you afraid of me?”
The question had come out of nowhere.
It was late, the sun having set long ago, leaving Morgan's living room tv as the only source of light in the apartment. They'd been bingeing a new show they'd both long since lost interest in, the volume turned all the way down as the two villains ignored it. Morgan was sprawled out across the entire couch, scrolling aimlessly on their phone, and eating a bag of potato chips. Alex was sitting upright on the opposite end with Morgan’s feet in their lap, knitting what Morgan was pretty sure would end up as a sweater, though it was hard to tell this early on.
Morgan paused, chip halfway raised to his mouth. Oddly enough he’d never considered that question before.
He's not sure what expression he was expecting to be on Alex’s face- Humor, maybe? As if they were asking a question with as obvious an answer as what color the sky is. Maybe concern? As if they were worried about the answer- but when Morgan turned to look at his partner, he saw only simple expectation. Like Alex already knew the answer and just wanted Morgan to say it.
Morgan shoved the chip into his mouth and laughed weakly, “You're knitting a sweater, Alex.” He turned to the tv mounted on his wall, which was still mutely playing whatever episode they'd made it to by that point, and he busied himself with piecing together what he'd missed through the captions.
“It's a shawl, actually,” Alex tossed their needles and yarn down onto the stained coffee table, leaning forward to catch Morgan's eye again. When Morgan looked back at them, he saw a glint in their eyes that he didn't quite want to place as malevolent , but couldn't think of any other name for, “And you didn't answer my question.”
Morgan took a moment to consider the person sitting across from him: Alex was lean and thin, though Morgan knew they could throw a punch strong enough to behead a man with about as much effort as swatting a fly. They wore sweatpants and a grey hoodie three sizes too big, which would've been unassuming had the small rip on the left sleeve not come from one of their most gruesome matches, and had the brown stain on the leg not once been blood. Their hands, which had been peacefully knitting not a minute ago, would almost appear delicate had the image of them tearing the world's greatest heroes to shreds not been permanently ingrained into the minds of every person on the planet; Blood and viscera dripping from their fingertips as inevitable as rain in the spring.
He looked up at their face, strands of their long, platinum blond hair falling out of the messy bun they'd put it in. Their features were sharp and ethereally beautiful, in a way that had once had Morgan convinced they simply weren't human. Their eyes- god, their eyes - golden hued and glowing, slit like a cat’s, were like looking into the face of Death itself.
Even after all these years, making eye contact with Alex felt like locking eyes with a hungry tiger, at the precise moment it decided to eat you alive. And so Morgan's answer came easy,
“Yes I am.”
Alex smiled almost imperceptibly, and Morgan knew that was the answer they'd been expecting. When they made no move to respond, he continued.
“Of course I am. I'd have to be the stupidest man alive not to be. I've watched you slaughter humanity’s finest warriors like cattle- seen you disintegrate whole armies with a snap of your fingers. You've taken down a goddamn dragon with a broken swiss army knife and a cork screw. You show up here at least once a week covered in gore and I have to yell at you to get the blood stains out of my carpet. You kill for no reason other than to satisfy your own bloodlust and boredom. Alex, of course I'm afraid of you.”
Alex’s face shifted from smugly confident to something Morgan was sure even Alex themself couldn't place, their smile dropping as they asked, “So then why do you keep me around?”
Morgan didn't need to consider that one.
“Because I love you,” he shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world to love someone who could destroy him with a snap, “And I trust you.”
“You shouldn't.”
Morgan smiled, “I know.”
Now Alex just looked confused.
“Then why…?”
Morgan thought for a moment, before supplying his answer, “I knew what I was getting into when I became your friend, and I know what I’ve gotten into now by loving you. I know that if I die, you'll be the cause. Or else I won't die at all.”
“Yet you still choose to be around me.” It wasn't a question.
“You're not going to hurt me.” Neither was that.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Alex moved.
Faster than Morgan could even blink Alex had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him from the couch and slamming him into the nearby wall. The force of it threatened to take the air out of his lungs, but Morgan knew the movement had been done with significantly less force than Alex would afford anyone else in this situation. Alex had him boxed in, putting most of their weight onto their forearm, which was now positioned across Morgan's chest, keeping him pinned. They loomed over him, free hand engulfed in flame and raised only a couple inches from Morgan’s face, close enough that he could feel the heat.
It was threatening in a way Alex had never displayed against him, yet only terrifying in the way he'd long ago become accustomed to.
“ Are you sure about that ?” Alex asked in a low voice, moving their flaming hand a fraction of an inch closer. Morgan did not shy away from it.
He was afraid.
He was terrified .
Yet he was completely, utterly calm.
The most dangerous person on the planet had a flame to his face and bloodlust in their eyes, but he didn't shy away from them. He looked Alex in the eye even as his every instinct was telling him to run. He savored the buzz of adrenaline pumping through his veins that had accompanied Morgan through Alex’s every action since they met. Slowly, trying against hope to steady his shaking, he began to lift one of his own hands, gently grabbing their wrist.
Alex let the flames dissipate the moment Morgan's hand became close enough to burn.
Morgan still didn't break eye contact as he slowly brought the hand down to his face, allowing Alex to cup his cheek. His heart was thumping a mile a minute, and he took a few steadying breaths in an attempt to calm it. There was no calming it, they both knew, but he took the opportunity to try.
He leaned into his partner’s guided touch, closing his eyes with a contented sigh and holding their hand in place. Their palm was unnaturally hot from the now extinguished flame, but Morgan didn't mind. It wouldn't hurt. Alex wouldn't let it hurt.
“Yes,” Morgan whispered, the calmness in his voice at odds with everything else he was experiencing. He turned to kiss the palm of the deadliest person to ever exist, “I am.”
He leaned forward and kissed them properly.