"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.
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.
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.
Poe figured it was wishful thinking, but wasn't going to call him on it, just nodded and grabbed a shirt, pulling it on even as he stepped into his shoes, snagging keys and a gallon ziplock bag out of a box on the small counter.
Once they were in the car he said: "Seriously though, if you need me to pull over, let me know, I will."
Michael went through the motions of getting ready but his head was in a fog. He kept cycling through every terrible foster family, to the prison blowing up and back around again all proof to him that he definitely isn’t good parent material. So It would certainly be better if he was sick or dying or something than if he were knocked up.
Before they got out of the cottage he got sick again, punching the floor after it and then he’s out the door to the car.
The puke-and-rally was something Poe was familiar with, though it had been a few years since he'd been through it himself, and at the time it had been the end result of wanting to kill a few brain cells, and he was reasonably sure he'd managed it.
Once they'd arrived, his only question was: "You want me to come with in case you need to pop me one, or stay here in case we need to make a quick getaway?"
He turned his head to press a kiss to Michael's palm, "Okay, I'll circle around and find a place to park just so I'm not freaking anybody out by loitering out front with the engine running."
It would also give Poe something else to focus on even if it was just for a few minutes, and sometimes a few minutes was all that was needed to take concern down to a simmer from a dull roar.
Michael was in with Liz for quite a while before he came back out. It felt like an eternity really as he explained what had been going on and everything. What they thought might be causing it and Michael looked maybe a bit too hopeful that he might be dying instead of being pregnant with a half-alien baby that would be in constant danger on top of just having one terrible parent even if Poe would be a fantastic one.
By the end of Liz' examination, it was more and more apparent that the suspicion they had was correct. Michael reluctantly agreed to a blood test that she could use for confirmation but there was little else that seemed likely.
Liz thought it was good news and Michael was just being his general brooding facade over it rather than actually distressed about it. He made her promise not to tell anyone -- especially Max -- before he headed back out to wait for the Poe's car to come around. He felt queasy still but there really wasn't anything left to throw up so he just crossed his arm as he settled into the car once it was there.
Poe's conclusion was a quiet, "So you're not dying." Mostly because he figured if that were the case Michael would have said so.
He just nodded, making a quiet, thoughtful sound before asking: "Where do you want to go?" Poe would happily take him to his trailer just as easily as to the homestead, "Because if you don't answer I'm just going to keep driving because I'm pretty sure we won't run out of gas before we get to Amarillo." A one-shouldered shrug, pulling back out onto the street, "If we go that direction, could go get lost in the woods if we head west instead."
"I'm not dying," Michael muttered, his hand clenching and then unclenching repeatedly. Saying that out loud almost made him get sick or maybe that was in his head but the fear at the whole situation was starting to surface as his primary response and he wanted to drown it out but now knowing for sure what he knew his usual go to of whiskey probably isn't on the table. He probably shouldn't start any bar fights either.
"Fuck," he exhaled, feeling his eyes watering again and he stared out his window trying to ignore it as if that would mean he wasn't about to cry. He wasn't usually particularly ashamed of tears but these felt different.
"We can't just leave Roswell."
Michael exhaled a little as he tries to compose himself. "Airstream," he does provide. He felt the urge to go to the bunker which maybe he'd let Poe in there for the first time. He hadn't even told him about that yet. He probably should.
He hadn't been thinking of running forever, just for a day trip, but he nodded at the actual answer all the same, "Alright." That at least was an easy drive, even when there was traffic, which at that time of day there really wasn't much of, and it was only a few minutes before he was pulling in next to Michael's truck, the same spot he always took when coming to visit, regardless of how long that visit was going to last.
Even as he cut the engine all he asked was: "What do you need?"
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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?"
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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.
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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."
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“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.”
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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"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.
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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."
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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...”
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"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."
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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.”
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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?"
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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.
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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."
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"Alright."
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Once they were in the car he said: "Seriously though, if you need me to pull over, let me know, I will."
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Before they got out of the cottage he got sick again, punching the floor after it and then he’s out the door to the car.
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Once they'd arrived, his only question was: "You want me to come with in case you need to pop me one, or stay here in case we need to make a quick getaway?"
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“Stay here,” he said because well, he’s not sure ... maybe he’s just being defensive and pushing Poe away a little bit the other would be there after.
He reached over to brush his hand through Poe’s hair. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled before opening the door so he could head inside.
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It would also give Poe something else to focus on even if it was just for a few minutes, and sometimes a few minutes was all that was needed to take concern down to a simmer from a dull roar.
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By the end of Liz' examination, it was more and more apparent that the suspicion they had was correct. Michael reluctantly agreed to a blood test that she could use for confirmation but there was little else that seemed likely.
Liz thought it was good news and Michael was just being his general brooding facade over it rather than actually distressed about it. He made her promise not to tell anyone -- especially Max -- before he headed back out to wait for the Poe's car to come around. He felt queasy still but there really wasn't anything left to throw up so he just crossed his arm as he settled into the car once it was there.
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He just nodded, making a quiet, thoughtful sound before asking: "Where do you want to go?" Poe would happily take him to his trailer just as easily as to the homestead, "Because if you don't answer I'm just going to keep driving because I'm pretty sure we won't run out of gas before we get to Amarillo." A one-shouldered shrug, pulling back out onto the street, "If we go that direction, could go get lost in the woods if we head west instead."
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"Fuck," he exhaled, feeling his eyes watering again and he stared out his window trying to ignore it as if that would mean he wasn't about to cry. He wasn't usually particularly ashamed of tears but these felt different.
"We can't just leave Roswell."
Michael exhaled a little as he tries to compose himself. "Airstream," he does provide. He felt the urge to go to the bunker which maybe he'd let Poe in there for the first time. He hadn't even told him about that yet. He probably should.
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Even as he cut the engine all he asked was: "What do you need?"
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