#literallywashington

Ray was definitely regretting his decision the moment he stepped onto the plane. Hell, he was having doubts on his way to the airport. As he struggled to walk through the too-small walkways on the plane his breath grew short and his hands began to shake. Just being on that flying metal death trap was enough to make him almost lose it. But, there was nowhere for him to go now except his seat in the rows of three.

His fear of flying was completely irrational. He didn't know anyone who had been hurt in a crash and he didn't have any traumatic experience, all he knew was that the first time he experienced turbulence he had a panic attack and had to be consoled by a flight attendant. It really wasn't something that he would like to go through again. The only thing that actually got him a ticket and into this situation was his family waiting in New York and his best friend Tina.

"Just go," she said. "It'll be faster than a bus and you have to face this fear sometime. Stop being such a baby."

Ray had never been able to say no to her.

But he sure felt like a baby now. He clumsily shoved his carry on into the luggage compartment and tripped into his seat. Of course, he had to sit in the middle. The window seat was already occupied, but nobody sat in the aisle.

As he finally settled into his seat, he had a closer look at the man next to him. He was taller than him, probably a head or more. His brown hair stuck up from his head. Ray couldn't tell whether it was styled that way or he had just rolled out of bed.  In profile, the man's nose jutted out from his face far more than it does for any other person. Somehow, it suited him perfectly. Ray quickly looked away as the man's glittering eyes turned to him. The man was far too hot for Ray to handle. Ray fidgeted with his seatbelt and snapped it into place against his lap, tightening it as much as he could while still being able to breathe. The man giggled and Ray glanced up at him again.

"We're not taking off for another half hour at the least, you know," The man said, "Why would you buckle up so early?" Ray noticed that the man had a thick British accent and took a moment to come up with a response. Why did he have to be cute -and- British? The man was still looking at him and smiling.

"I, uh," Ray cleared his throat. He wasn't used to having conversations with strangers period, much less attractive ones. "I'm not a big fan of flying." The smile on the man's face broke out into a full grin. He made a delighted sound and his eyes crinkled happily. The image that Ray had mistaken for stoic and handsome had been shattered by the man's enthusiasm. Ray tried to not be offended by his amusement at his phobia.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't laugh," the man laughed, "but I couldn't imagine being afraid of flying. I fly all the time."

"I didn't say anything about being afraid." Ray grumbled. He couldn't help but smile, though, when the man's eyes met his. They looked at each other for a long moment. The man, no longer grinning like he was, seemed to study Ray. Ray felt his face heat up.

"I'm Gavin, by the way." Gavin stuck out his hand. "Gavin Free."

"I'm Ray." Ray took Gavin's hand and shook it once before letting go and relaxing in his seat. They sat in silence for a moment before it was broken by someone joining them. The person that was sitting in the aisle seat had arrived. It was another man, this one with red-brown hair and freckles all over. He slid his luggage into the compartment and sat down. Ray and Gavin both looked at him as he settled. When the man looked over and noticed them staring, he frowned.

"Am I interrupting something?" He said. He sounded almost annoyed, despite having just arrived. Ray looked back at Gavin and saw his eyes light up at their new companion.

"Not at all," Gavin said. "I'm Gavin, and this is Ray."

The new man relaxed and even smiled slightly. "I'm Michael."

Ray had no idea how he would get through this flight alive.

"Anyway, Ray, if you're so afraid of flying, then why are you here?" Gavin asked, still looking at Michael. Ray almost protested about his feat when Michael spoke up.

"Oh my god, you're afraid of flying?" Michael, like Gavin, was amused by this. Ray wondered why he had to be surrounded with attractive assholes. He sighed and gave in.

"Yeah, I have a fear of planes." Ray admitted. He heard Gavin snicker and whipped around to face him, silencing his laugh with a glare. He turned his head back around to face Michael. "I honestly have no idea why, so don't ask. I'm just here so I can visit my family, and because my friend made me."

Michael opened his mouth to say something else when a loud noise interrupted them. The plane's engine had turned on. It didn't seem to bother Michael or Gavin, but Ray jumped at the sound. The teasing atmosphere had evaporated when the other men realized the full extent of Ray's fear.

Ray was sweating and shaking slightly. He couldn't tell whether his shaking was because of the plane rumbling under him it his own nerves. He suddenly felt very sick. His stomach flipped and his head swam. They hadn't even started moving yet! Ray was snapped out of his thoughts when Michael rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey man, are you alright?" Michael sounded genuinely concerned. Ray tried to smile and nod his head, but his body refused to listen to him. Instead, he avoided Michael's eyes completely. He saw Michael lean around him to share a long look with Gavin. Seconds after they met and they were already having silent conversations about him? Ray couldn't believe this was happening. His breathing sped up and the change caused both Michael and Gavin to look at him. Ray fought back the urge to run and hide and instead slid his hands over his eyes. Michael's hand still rested on his shoulder. The plane, after running its engine for a minute, began to move. Ray let a long groan escape his throat. He felt a hand from Gavin's side take his hand and bring it away from his face. Ray looked at Gavin in despair, while Gavin just gazed at him with poorly disguised pity in his eyes. Michael moved the hand that was on Ray's shoulder to his forearm and held it so Ray couldn't cover his face again.

Ray came to the sudden realization that he was about to have a panic attack on a plane about to lift off, and two incredibly attractive men were trying to comfort him. He supposed that there was some bright side to every situation.

With Michael and Gavin's touches Ray's breathing got closer to its normal rate. Michael smiled at him encouragingly.

"Just breathe, dude," Michael said, "Nothing bad is going to happen."

"Yeah!" Gavin exclaimed, "I mean the amount of planes that crash in the United States every year is actually pretty low! There's pretty much no risk that we'll fall out of the sky." Ray was beginning to feel more comfortable, but the plane took that moment to take off.

At the first liftoff, Ray threw his right arm across Gavin, grabbing and trying to find purchase on his shirt. Michael let go of Ray's arm just as he clutched at the arm rest. He felt his stomach sink with the force of the plane flying higher and higher at an angle. He thought he could hear a baby crying somewhere else on the plane, but it was the least of his worries. Ray felt as if he was the one that was about to cry.

"Don't be a baby," Tina had said.

Look at him now, relating with the baby.

Ray ground his teeth together as they continued up at that angle. It was too fast, and way too steep. Ray could just see them crashing now. Flames would billow up from the husk of the plane and they would all perish. The thought caused him to tense up even more, though that had seemed impossible. Michael and Gavin were talking, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. None of their words seemed to mean anything. Finally, Gavin took hold of Ray's jaw and turned his head to face him. Ray was brought back to Earth, despite still being terrified.

"Ray! You have to breathe," Gavin said, "it's all going to be okay. We'll be straightening out soon. Then we can get you some water or something. Nothing bad is going to happen." Gavin stressed each word he said like he really meant it. He looked directly into Ray's eyes like he had before and began breathing deliberately. They were lucky that they hadn't really attracted the attention of any other passengers, but Ray could hear Michael dismiss a flight attendant behind him.

Ray began to mimic Gavin, taking deep breaths in and letting them out. He quickly stopped hyperventilating and cleared his head. Gavin noticed and started breathing normally as well. Ray still clutched to the arm rest, but now his right arm wasn't flung across Gavin but instead resting in his lap. Gavin must have moved it without Ray noticing. Ray slowly pried his fingers from their grip and relaxed in his seat. Although anxiety bubbled underneath the surface, he was pretty calm for now. Their angle had nearly leveled out. Ray would be okay, so long as he didn't look out the window.

"Nice job!" Ray focused on Michael again, who was grinning like a fool. "You didn't die! Let's see if we can get some water as a reward for your achievement." Although Michael was teasing him, Ray appreciated the sentiment. He suddenly realized how parched he was from those minutes of panic. They made small talk as the flight attendant worked her way down the aisle.

"Yeah man, my family lives in New York. I used to live there too until I decided to move out to Austin." Ray said, tapping his fingers on the arm rest. He was trying not to panic again.

"Why'd you move to Austin then?" Gavin was just asking a simple question, but Ray couldn't come up with a good answer. He took a second before responding.

"Needed some space, I guess. I wasn't ever going to go to college so I just packed up and left." Ray knew that it was half-assed, but that was basically the truth. He wasn't going to college, he was working at a Game Stop, and his life didn't feel like it was going anywhere. So he moved. But everything was the same there, except it was hotter and the people were way nicer. At least he got to meet Tina there. That was the best thing to come out of his rash decisions.

"Do you like Austin?" Gavin barely waited for an answer before he continued, "I love it! I'm starting work for a content producing company there and it's just top! I mean seriously, it's-"

"Did you just say it's 'top'?" Michael had been content to listen to them talk but had to butt in at the expression. "Who says that?"

"British people, you donut!" Gavin almost seemed offended by Michael's teasing. "And  in case you didn't notice, that's what I am, Michael!" His accent seemed to come out even more with his annoyance. Michael took a double take at Gavin's words.

"What the fuck did you just call me?"

"Michael?"

"What are you saying?"

"Michael."

"Micoo?" Ray couldn't stifle his snort.

"What?"

"You're saying Micoo."

"No, I'm saying Michael."

"We're saying the same thing!"

"No we're-"

"Excuse me, would you like a complimentary drink?"

Their argument was interrupted by the arrival of the flight attendant. Ray quickly ordered water and guzzled the whole thing the moment it was set in front of him. He ignored the sniggers.

Michael and Gavin continued their banter while Ray looked on. It was hard for him to believe that the two had only just met. He leaned back in his chair, just allowing the two to talk and occasionally interjecting with a thought of his own. He almost forgot that they were hurtling through the sky in a metal cylinder. As he watched them, Ray was hit by a sudden fondness for the two men. They were both witty and intelligent, though they showed it differently. Ray was almost sad that the flight would end eventually. Almost.

-

An hour and a half into their three and a half hour flight, they hit a patch of turbulence. Michael and Gavin both turned to Ray, ready to calm him, but to their surprise he wasn't in need of calming, Ray looked at both of them and, though his jaw was slightly tight, asked Michael to continue his story about his electrician days. Michael picked up talking again and within moments Ray was tension free. He focused on Michael's voice instead of the shuddering of the plane, and images of falling out of the sky were replaced by Michael's description of his job. -

Two hours into their three and a half hour flight, Ray was fast asleep. Michael and Gavin continued to talk but shared a feeling that something was missing from the conversation. Gavin put a jacket over Ray while Michael nudged Ray's head so he wouldn't crick his neck. Neither asked the other to do what he had done. Their conversation didn't stop throughout their ministrations. -

Three and a half hours after the liftoff, Michael shook Ray awake. Ray blinked in the light and absorbed his surroundings. The sound of bustle surrounded him and everyone was standing and grabbing their bags out of storage. He stretched out and groaned as his shoulders popped.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," Michael said, smirk evident in his voice. It occurred to Ray that most people don't refer to each other with pet names after about four hours of companionship. "You actually made it through the whole flight! Congratulations. Now get up."

Ray sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. As he stood he stretched again, almost punching Gavin in the face in the process. Gavin backed off with an indignant "oy!". When Ray turned around, his backpack was thrust into his hands. He smiled at Gavin in thanks and shuffled out of the row. The three men didn't speak much as they made their way down the aisle to the door. They could hardly look at each other, much less hear each other with so many people trying to get out. They finally made it into the gate and started to make their way to baggage claim, walking next to each other and chatting again. -

Gavin grabbed his bag from the conveyor belt. He was the only one who had checked his bag, as it was apparently filled with fancy camera equipment.

"Okay, you get a million dollars, but a thousand cockroaches suddenly appear in your house." This was probably Gavin's 4th preposition like this, and was surprisingly the most tame. Ray made a face at the situation though.

"Dude, cockroaches are fucking disgusting. I wouldn't do that," Ray said. It was true, he could never get used to cockroaches. Last time he saw one, Tina had to take care of it for him.

"I don't know man, you could just hire an exterminator or something. Million dollars and a roach free house." Michael was leaning against his bag and scrolling through his phone. "Not a very hard decision."

"But cockroaches breed though." Gavin gagged at Ray's point. It was pretty disgusting, but true. "And can't they survive a nuclear bomb or something? Why would an exterminator be able to get rid of them?"

"Even if they couldn't, I don't mind them that much. And with a million dollars I can just buy a new house."

They all considered that for a moment before agreeing that it was worth it. -

"Well, bye."

Ray's mom was waiting for him in her car a while away. He could easily walk there now, but needed to part with his new friends first. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling on his stomach while they said their goodbyes, but it was hard. These guys had been so tolerant on the plane, and Ray felt as if he'd known them for years. Not to mention the fluttering feeling he had whenever either of them touched him. He started to turn around to just get it over with when a hand caught his wrist. The butterflies started up again when he met Michael's eyes.

"Give me your phone." Ray handed his phone over quickly and Michael tapped at it for a moment, before doing the same for Gavin. "Let's meet up while we're here. Play some video games or something, I don't know. Both of you text me and we'll start a group chat. Let's plan something.”

Ray was relieved. He considered asking them for their numbers earlier, but didn't want to come across as creepy. The fact that he had a way to contact Michael and, through Michael, Gavin, gave him hope. He and Gavin agreed and Ray turned to leave. He grinned at them and walked away, for, hopefully, not the last time. -

"How was your flight?"

Ray smiled at his mom, and told the truth.

Michael counts down the seconds in his mind. His hand, the one holding onto the small, black detonator, is sweaty, and he’s holding his breath. He can faintly hear Geoff and Jack’s hushed conversation through his earpiece. Ray’s slow, steady breathing. Ryan choosing new ammo. Gavin clicking his mouse.

3.

2.

1.

“Wait-! Michael, wait! There’s more explo-”

Michael presses the detonator, far too concentrated to register the full meaning of Ryan’s cut-off words. His explosion rocks the whole warehouse, but there are more following, closer and closer until he can actually feel them rumbling the concrete under the soles of his battered, old kicks. He’s too stunned to move, but there’s no time anymore, anyway.

“Michael!” Geoff screams, his voice warping into a high-pitched screech at the end as Michael’s earpiece gets fried by an explosion from behind the wall. The redhead is thrown back with such force that he feels like he’s been hit by a fully loaded truck. He desperately reaches up to his ear and claws at the earpiece, prying it out. Its fried circuit still screeches demonically even after he throws it to the ground.

Michael doesn’t have the time to dwell on it as he is hit by a chunk of concrete. It connects with his chest painfully, knocking the wind out of him and forcing him to double over. But it doesn’t help; more and more pieces keep hitting him, harder and harder, until he is more than half burried by rubble and unable to breathe.

He’s sure at least three of his ribs are cracked, but he has no way of checking. Unable to move, he's forced to bear the weight of the concrete choking him down. Wiggling does absolutely nothing and only loses him some of his precious air as he huffs with effort.

At least I was alone, runs through his mind, everything except for gratitude wiped from his muddy thoughts. He's not sure if he could live through someone else dying. But he's sure the others will be okay.

Geoff and Jack will keep them all safe.

He loses track of time but it's not long until his lungs start burning, burning, burning. An inferno spreads through his chest. He thinks he cries out but he can't be sure because he's gone lightheaded and keeps flicking in and out of consciousness.

His blurry sight of fire fades into black one last time and then he is gone.

"Michael!" Geoff cries into the comm, but his only response is static from the other end. "Michael! Michael! Fuck, Michael!" No matter how many times he calls or how loudly, Michael's earpiece stays fried and dead.

"Geoff, we gotta go get him!" Gavin yelps, his face a painting of concern that Geoff can, unfortunately, vividly imagine.

He'd wanted to go with them so he could keep tabs on their enemies in real time, but Geoff wouldn't allow it. It was too dangerous; what happened to Michael a prime example of what could've happened to the Brit as well. Geoff can still remember when Gavin was forced to jump off of a building and almost didn't open his parachute - not a pleasant memory, he'll admit. But seated all alone with only his surveillance equipment back at their safe house, Gavin must be blaming himself for what happened to the redhead. Even though it wasn't his fault, no matter how you looked at it, Gavin has a tendency to blame himself if their intel lacks even the slightest bit.

"Don't worry, Gav," comes Jack's soothing voice from their comms, but Geoff can easily pick out the hints of panic in it. Gavin, though, not as used to Jack in high pressure situations, doesn't pick up on it and seems to calm a little as he hears the words. "We'll go check out the building with Ryan. Ray, cover us."

"Alright. Be quick, though, there're staggerers pouring out of the surrounding storages, and they don't look too happy," Ray mutters. His voice is oddly flat.

"Noted. Geoff," Jack addresses him, "get out of here, we'll be right behind. All of us."

The words leave a little wiggle room for the unfortunate turn of events. There's always the room, Geoff reasons with himself. He doesn't like the wiggle room. He's never liked it.

"Okay."

Jack exchanges a look with Ryan, or, more specifically, his mask, and then crosses the street, ducking into the alley that had been Michael's hiding spot. Ryan hurries after him, attentively keeping his submachine gun trained to their surroundings. There's no trace of Michael left, just a pile of bloodied concrete in front of the hole blasted in the side of the warehouse.

"Do you think he might've made it?" Jack asks. Jack always asks the hardest questions, just so no one else has to. Ryan isn't sure if he should be thankful for it now, because the thought of losing Michael sends a pang through him, like an electrical shock.

Ray's sharp intake of breath and the strung silence betrays what they are all thinking.

"There's his comm," Jack mutters, much more gloomily now, and bends to pick the small device up. He holds it up to his ear, but he can only hear a faint crackling. Dead. Just like Michael, probably. He wants to kick himself for even thinking that, but he can't help himself.

“I- I think we should go back… to the safe house, y’know,” Ray mumbles. His voice trembles and Jack can’t imagine how he must be feeling. Him and Michael were always together, even way before the whole Fake AH crew, and now… Michael is just gone.

Jack swallows down the horrid taste of puke assaulting his mouth. “Yeah.”

“You’d think they took some vacations, but noooo,” a man whines before sighing deeply.

“Can it and help me,” comes another voice, a female one this time.

The clean up crew arrives no more than three hours later, when the streets finally calm enough for them to be (relatively) safe.

The woman fixes her heavy gloves and looks around. The crews really did a number on the poor little Achievement city. Almost everything in the radius of a whole mile is blown up beyond saving. The main warehouse is now just a husk of a building, with only a few parts of some walls still standing.

"There," she says, pointing at a pile of rubble by a shattered wall. "There seems like a good place to start."

The man shrugs, adjusting his hold on the tools he's holding. "Whatever you say. I just wanna get it done and go home."

"Then stop yammering and let's get this over with."

They park their giant trashcan near the wall and get to work clearing the pile of rubble. Better to start with something bigger, right?

Piece after piece, they toss the broken concrete into the trash, efficiently chunking away from the pile. In a matter of an hour, half of it is gone.

"Hey, look. There's something in there," the man says, frowning at the patch of gray between the rubble.

They chuck pieces away until they uncover a body of a boy, no more than twenty five years old. The worst of it is that despite the blood stains covering his clothes and the fact that he was buried under half a ton of rubble, there are absolutely no bruises on his pale skin. No bruises, no cuts, nothing.

"What the fuck…?" they both echo, no louder than a whisper.

The boy stirs.

The man lets out a shriek.

The boy opens his eyes.

They both back away.

The boy stands up, rubbing his head with a pained groan. "Fuuuuck," he drawls. His red hair is wild, sticking out in all directions. Dust falls from it as he moves.. His brown eyes lock onto the two cleaners and he blinks confusedly at them for a few seconds. "I thought that angels would at least have fucking wings," he mumbles. "Fake advertising and all that shit. Then again, guess I did more shit to deserve hell, so like… I guess you're lacking horns, not wings."

The pair of cleaners exchange a look before glancing at the lunatic boy again. They come to the conclusion that they want nothing to do with him and turn to run.

Thankfully, the boy doesn't follow them.

Michael staggers to his wobbly feet, balancing precariously on the balls of his heels before regaining his full balance. His head throbs and he presses a hand to his pulsing temple in an attempt to soothe the pain. It doesn't help.

He blinks off his blurry sight, the shapes of his surroundings coming into focus. What he at first thought was heaven (or hell, as the case may be) is actually just the downtown of Achievement city, the very same alley he sat and waited in during the last mission.

His memory is lacking, he thinks when he can't quite make out what happened. He can remember explosions, lost of them, and then pain, searing pain in his chest.

There is none of that now. His chest feels as fine as always. He even presses a hand to the ribs he thought were broken, but no, they are absolutely okay. He doesn't even have a single bruise on him.

He fishes in his pocket for his phone, but what he pulls out is just a mess of broken plastic with a cracked screen. It doesn't even turn on. He shoves it back inside and stretches his aching muscles. It feels more like he just had a really long nap instead of being buried alive.

It will take him some time to get back to the safe house, but oh well. Not like he can hail a cab without getting himself turned in to the popo. Walking it is, then.

Ray feels like he's suffocating.

He tries to calm himself by playing games, but it seems he can't. Two achievements and his hands are still shaking. That might explain why it took him so long to get them in the first place. His wandering mind might've played a part in it as well.

The couch seems to be too big, Geoff and Jack on either side of him doing less to calm him and more to make him feel like he's being strangled. Finally, when his shaky and sweaty hands cause him to die one too many times, he sets the controller down and stands up, probably much quicker than he wanted. Too quick to appear as okay as he wants to.

But there's no lying to his boys anyway. They notice, and they send him a couple of concerned glances. They don't try to stop him from leaving, though. Ray thanks them mentally.

The room he locks himself away in is as impersonal as the rest of the safe house. The furniture is nice, Geoff and Jack (Jack, mostly) have a great eye for style, but there is a slight layer of dust settled over the half-empty shelves and the room lacks any personal belongings. It feels… well, like a safe house. That's not what Ray wants right now. He wants to go home and curl up in bed and probably sleep for like a week.

This bed dips slightly uncomfortably underneath him when he sits down. It reminds him even more that he's not home. But the others will start packing soon; they'll go home soon.

No need to stay at the safe house with the mission done. It was an utter failure, but it is done nonetheless.

He curls up and kicks the itchy blanket off. He can't find sleep, though. His mind is plagued by Michael's smiling face and, alternatively, a picture of his face blown up into billions of pieces supplied by his brain.

It's burned into his eyelids, so he tries just staring at the blank wall. He doesn't admit that the few cracks in it are blurring.

It takes him like two hours and his legs burn with overexertion, but Michael finally stands in front of their current safe house.

It's a small, nondescript house in a line of same ones. Nondescript and discreet is exactly what Geoff and Jack had gone for, but Michael knows how much Ray hates these safe houses. They are way too distant and just... not theirs. Michael is indifferent, but he sees where Ray is coming from.

The sun is setting and it is already dark enough for the shitty street lamps to be turned on already. The light in what Michael assumes is the living room is on. So they are still packing.

Michael smiles sadly when he thinks how worried they must be about him. He presses the doorbell, knowing that if he just entered without a warning, there'd be a bigger chance of him getting shot before they realize who he is.

He can't help his smile when he hears footsteps coming.

Gavin, leaning heavily, dejectedly, against Ryan's side, jumps up abruptly when he hears the doorbell ring out.

"Michael!" he cries out, his voice only breaking once.

Ryan grabs his wrist before he can run to the front door. He exchanges a look with Geoff and Jack, who have been busying themselves with packing the weapons. "Gav, I don’t think that's Michael," Ryan mutters, pulling the blond back. Gavin looks at him with wide eyes. They brim with hope, but Gav knows that there's only a slight chance that it's Michael standing in front of the door. "Do you think someone followed us?" he asks Jack, who frowns deeply at the thought.

"I… I don't know. I don't think so, but we did retreat pretty quickly. It's… possible," he admits finally, but not without a concerned look.

Geoff picks up two guns and passes one to Ryan. "Better safe than sorry," he says. It's so strange to see him like this, but Michael's… death... hit them all hard. Geoff probably blamed himself - he hasn't spoken at all until now - and didn't want to lose anyone else.

"Better safe than sorry," Ryan echoes a bit quieter, checking the clip.

The two of them go to the door while Jack and Gavin prepare to get Ray and bolt as fast as any trouble brews.

Ryan takes position by the wall, aiming at the door, and nods at Geoff. Geoff opens the door with a single fluid movement and they both immediately fix their weapon position.

Neither of them shoots, though.

Michael's smile widens into a grin when the door opens to reveal Geoff, looking worryingly sober but disheveled, and Ryan, whose mask is long gone and whose face paint is so smudged it doesn't resemble the skull-like pattern at all anymore. The pair of guns they have trained on him are lowered and then put away completely as he goes in for hugs.

"Michael?" Ryan questions, the tension obviously draining from his frame. Geoff smashes their mouths together in a heated kiss, frantically pawing at Michael's dirtied hair.

"Michael?" comes a voice from the inside. Then, "Michael! I was right! Michael!" Gavin yelps, running over to wrap his arms around the redhead right after Geoff lets go. Michael's lips are bruised now, but it's not like he's complaining when Gavin pulls him into a kiss as well.

It takes Jack - just like usual - to remind them that this is a safe house, and it they stay crowded around the front door like that, it won't be for much longer. He doesn't look any less happy to see Michael safe and sound than them, though.

"Michael?!"

They all turn to see Ray standing in the long hallway leading to the bedrooms, looking the worst of them all. His hair is sticking out even more than Gavin's, and his red face has way too obvious tear tracks running across it. He wastes no time in running at the redhead, impatient to make sure that his lover is okay. They all know how that feels.

Ray's way too light to topple any of them usually (maybe except Gavin), but his speed combined with Michael's delayed reaction get them on the floor with no problems at all. Ray hides his tearful face in the crook of Michael's neck, repeating his name over and over like a mantra.

They help the boys up and they all pile onto the couch, cuddling close and slowly calming down.

"What happened, Michael?" Gavin asks when Ray stops crying and they get him to drink some water.

"I got buried," Michael answers nonchalantly. It's obvious he doesn't very much want to talk about it, but his boys aren't about to let it go just yet.

"You got buried?" Gavin prompts and all the others look at him, awaiting an answer. They get a shrug.

"Yeah. The explosion buried me under rubble. The clean up crew dug me up. I wanted to call you, but my phone is wrecked."

Their endless gratitude that Michael is safe might've gotten them to overlook the fact that the redhead didn’t have a scratch on him. Michael was lucky, and he hoped no one else would go through something like that again.