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Michael relaxed a little bit when Poe gave him a bit more space. He felt guilty. He felt a lot of things, emotional in a way that he certainly wasn't particularly accustomed to feeling. Everything was off of center.

He couldn't get back to sleep either, nausea had returned and he tried to ignore it as best he could.

"We don't get sick, ever. No matter what."

That had his brow furrowing more deeply, propping himself up on one hand so that he could actually see Michael's face, just to determine how much of the truth that was, and finding nothing to indicate he was exaggerating, he asked: "You want to call someone? Or just wait it out, see if it passes?"

"Max and Isobel will just freak out," Michael said, reaching up and pressing his palm to his forehead. "The only time was Isobel got one of Liz' experiments injected into her but that was different. It nullified what made her alien... her powers... But this is different."

He curled his hand tight and something in the room shattered. "Shit," he whispered and he really hoped it wasn't something important.

"I should go. I need to go," it was just more proof that he wasn't in control like he usually was. "I'm sorry." He was getting off the bed and tried to shove down the urge that there was to throw up again.

By the sound of it it had been pictureframe glass, maybe the mirror, but if it was, none of the pieces had fallen into the sink, which was a good sign. Probably.

Poe swung himself around upright as well, catching Michael's hand to draw him back down to sit, "Hey, easy, I'll drive you back, but if you're coming down with something, and if that doesn't usually happen I don't think you should be alone." He understood if Michael would be more comfortable in the trailer, and would happily stay there, it wasn't as if he was unfamiliar with the place.

"You don't feel warm, so I think we can rule out fever or the flu. You feel dizzy at all or just queasy? Anything hurt? Achy joints?"

Michael looked at Poe and he felt a panic inside of himself. It'd been a long time since he hadn't had complete control and he was worried he'd accidentally hurt Poe. He pulled his hand away resisting the other trying to guide him to sitting down again.

"Just... like I'm going to fucking throw up again...and just... not right. I don't feel right," he didn't know how to explain it. It isn't quite dizziness and nothing hurt exactly.

"And my stupid powers have been... it's been off. It's dangerous."

He scrubbed both hands up over his face and through his hair, pulling it back away from his face, as if that might help him think, "No headache?"

He shook his head then, "Just trying to narrow down the options, so far we've ruled out the flu, cold, probably ruled out food poisoning, if that even works the same way for you as it does for the rest of us. No aches and pains means probably no weird infections."

Something was off -aside from the obvious- and he couldn't quite place what, which was enough to put him a little bit on edge himself, especially given the fact that he wasn't fully awake just yet and didn't have his usual filters or even higher thought processes working yet, "And you were fine last night, yeah?" He just shook his head again, tossing both hands up in a half-helpless 'what can you do?' gesture, "I mean pretty much all that's left is that you're knocked up."

Michael was close to losing his temper, frustrated that Poe won't just let it go and let him get out of there. He curled his hands into fists. There were intangibles, a moodiness that was darker and more erratic than his normal baseline moodiness but not quite the same as when he would go into heat. There was all sorts of things that were just off.

He stared at Poe when he said the most ludicrous thing. What was the worst thing was that his mind didn't immediately dismiss it. Logically he knew he should but something about it...

He pushed that away, letting out a frustrated growl. "Don't be ridiculous," but that's as far as he got before he did make that run to the bathroom again to lose the battle with nausea. He didn't come back out immediately, rinsing out his mouth and just sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, head dropped against it.

Mostly Poe wasn't just letting him go because he wasn't about to let him walk back to town, and Poe had to at least put pants on to drive him back, and he hadn't gotten that far along in his morning routine thought-process.

He winced at the sound, shaking his head and unfolding to get pants and to go plug in the kettle -because making tea was what he could do to help at the moment- which was when he found what had broken, a juice glass, luckily already in the sink, which made picking up the pieces to drop them in the trash easy enough.

It was a ridiculous theory, but it just stuck there now that he'd actually said it, mostly because the timing was near enough to be suspicious, and the fact that he knew that bothered him a little, though he wasn't sure why it should. He gave Michael a full three minutes of silence, the length of time it took the water to boil, before he called: "I'm making tea, I've got mint and I've got ginger, but you're going to have to tell me which one smells better."

Michael is relieved that Poe didn't try to get him to come out right away and didn't hover. He knew the other still wasn't about to let him leave and that had him still edgy and frustrated because he couldn't bring himself to completely defy Poe and just go anyway because Poe couldn't actually stop him.

He feels his stomach turn a bit but he didn't throw up again as he pushes himself up off the floor and splashes his face with cold water before heading out of the bathroom and to Poe.

"I can't be knocked up," Michael said, even though it seemed ridiculous that he even felt the need to address it. It was such an outrageous idea wasn't it?

"Your pants are on the chair." He said, though it was followed a moment later by: "Are you sure?" Just deciding on mint tea since it was easier to make weak than the ginger tea was, and while ginger was soothing for nausea, it was also one of those things that the smell of could make nausea worse before it had a chance to actually help.

His brow furrowed a little, adding, "I'm not saying you're wrong, just..." His brow furrowed more deeply, biting the inside of his cheek a moment before working himself around to: "Is it that it can't happen and you're sure of that, or is it just that it hasn't happened before?"

Michael grabbed his pants, pulling them on and he was barely paying attention to what Poe was doing. He paced a little feeling like far too much energy was bottled up inside of him and yet not wanting to do anything about it either.

It was infuriating that Poe didn't immediately dismiss the idea as ridiculous. It made it harder for Michael to do so. He tried to ignore the wave of panic that the logical questions sent through him.

"I don't..." he didn't know the answers. There was so much that they didn't know about themselves. "It can't be that. Why would you even think it?" It sounded more accusatory than it should have been, Michael's not being particularly fair.

"Ran out of other ideas." He replied, but that wasn't the whole answer, and he knew he'd regret it later if he didn't give the whole answer, even if it was an answer Michael was trying to avoid, "And the timing."

There was every chance that they'd just been lucky before, or maybe it had to do with the bond, there were variables and Poe wasn't awake enough yet to try working through all of them at the moment. So instead he just stirred a spoonful of honey into the mug before offering it over, "Mint. Can water it down if it's too strong. If you finish that and don't feel like you're going to hurl again I'll drive you back to town."

Michael’s jaw tightened because the first part they could have just laughed off but the timing Michael couldn’t. He just stared at the tea and the last thing he wanted was to try and put anything in his stomach. He ran his fingers through his hair again.

“This is crazy. I can’t be. You really think...” he finally does touch the cup and takes a sip. There’s no immediate negative reaction so he keeps sipping slowly. “No.”

"I don't know." He replied, and that much was true, because it had initially been some kind of sarcasm and lack of other ideas, but then he'd actually thought about it and it had become plausible.

It wasn't that it wasn't something he wanted, he absolutely did, and probably always had, it was just that after Snap had decided to have that partner, two kids, white picket fence life with someone else, and after Jess, he'd just sort of decided that it wasn't something that was in the cards for him.

So if Michael said it was something else, Poe would believe him, at least as far as lacking any other proof.

There was nothing else that Michael could think of that actually made any more sense than what Poe was saying. He hated to admit it though and so he didn’t exactly. He just sipped at the tea, looking frustrated and still feeling not exactly well. He was thinking about calling Liz but now with Poe’s suggestion in his head he didn’t exactly want to.

If nothing else the mint did seem to be calming the worst of the nausea leaving him more or less still queasy but not actively fighting the urge to be sick.

“What if I am...?” There’s an edge of anxiety there that most people probably wouldn’t notice.

Poe noticed, but only because he was more acclimated to that kind of thing than most people were.

It was why he didn't answer right away with something like 'everything will turn out' or 'it'll be fine', but instead actually thought it over, biting the inside of his cheek again just briefly before asking quietly: "Would that really be so bad?"

Those sort of sentiments would have meant nothing to Michael and would have likely infuriated him or pushed him away. But Poe was good at deciphering what would be closest to what he needed. He set the cup of tea down, mostly gone and his hands tapped on the table briefly.

"I don't know... I'd be terrible at it... and we don't even know how... there's so much we don't have any idea bout." It's not just the idea of being actually being pregnant or having a kid, though both terrify the hell out of him but there's the issue that if they were...if he was then that baby is half alien and what does that mean?

There was always a constant danger for Michael, Max and Isobel. None of them had ever considered adding another being to it.

"Pretty sure everybody thinks they'd be terrible at it sometimes, some people more often than others." He shook his head, "And I'm not going to be an asshole and say that the possibility of having to bolt in the dead of night because somebody found out about the half-alien baby isn't an issue, because it obviously is, and you know if you have to run baby or not, I'm running too." And if he didn't know before he did now, which counted for something.

He shrugged, scratching briefly behind his ear, "Pretty much ready to go at a moment's notice anyway. Duffel bag under the bed and everything." Which was definitely something he hadn't mentioned before, the same way he hadn't mentioned a morning or two when he was already halfway to the car with it and the one evening he was a few miles down the highway before managing to convince himself to go back because Michael wouldn't know what had happened and didn't deserve that.

"So what I'm saying is if that's what's going on here and not just some weird stomach bug, or some kind of allergic reaction to my mom's tree, I think we'll be able to figure it out, that's all."

“Poe, I don’t even know what a good parent looks like,” Michael said, trying not to sound as freaked out as he was. All he’d known was abuse in some form or another. He really didn’t know the Evans that well to really understand them as parents, just knew what Max and Isobel said. That was completely different.

Something about everything Poe said made him emotional, more emotional. He curled his hands into fists and he hadn’t ever thought that Poe would leave this place especially not for him.

Michael drops his hand down, his fists pressing to his face and it’s mostly to hide the fact his eyes were welling up with tears.

“Jesus, Poe...”

He tried to brush that off with a quiet: "At least it's under the bed now instead of just inside the door." But that really just made it worse, and he realized that halfway through saying it, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand up over his face and through his hair before going about making a cup of tea for himself just for something to do.

"Michael, I've been ready to run since I got home. At least if it was with you it'd be for a reason." A head shake, just giving up on trying to make another mug of tea, dropping into the other chair and just reaching over to rest his fingers against the back of Michael's hand, "Hey. No matter what this is, we'll figure it out."

Michael just frowned into his hands and the whole thing was just getting overwhelming. He could vaguely understand how Max had blown out the whole towns power at one point. His hands slid up and buried in his hair as he took a deep breath. He couldn’t afford to lose control. He could destroy something or hurt Poe and that was just not acceptable.

He doesn’t look at Poe right away when the other touches him but he does start to come around to it.

“I don’t even know how to figure it out.”

He inched his fingers up along the back of Michael's hand so that he could finally curl them around it, just giving a squeeze, "First, we figure out if it's even what we think it is. Bad timing or not you might just be sick." He shrugged, "I know you said you don't get sick, but what are the chances that we're actually biologically compatible? I'd say about the same."

A little shrug, giving Michael's hand another squeeze, "And if it is what we think, there's choices, but no matter what, I will be right here with you every step of the way. Okay?"

michael strangely enough found the idea that he would randomly get sick for the first time more unbelievable than the idea that he might be knocked up. He doesn’t say that out loud though and a part of him a huge part of him is hoping he’s just sick. He knew already that he’d be a terrible parent and he had no idea how any of it would end up working out... and the baby would be in danger from the get go and what if he couldn’t protect it.

Something else shattered, a picture frame and he cursed because usually Poe would be able to calm him down wirh a touch like that but Michael is still spiraling. “There’s not choices, Poe.”

“I should see Liz...” because he doesn’t know who else he could go to that might even have an idea because he’s not willing to go see Kyle Valenti with this even if he does trust him.

To his credit, he only barely flinched at that second noise, and more because it was a startle than anything else. But he nodded, "Okay. You going to be alright in the car?" Because the next option was to text her and have her come out to the homestead as soon as she had the chance, but he didn't think that was the kind of thing she was capable of, and didn't figure Michael would want to wait that long."

He patted Michael's hand before unfolding to his feet, "C'mon, I'll make sure we've got a barf bag and we can pull over as often as we need to."

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Michael had absolutely no idea if that was true or not. He wasn't exactly fine just sitting there either. He rubbed at his face and let out an unsteady breath as he got up.

"Alright."

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