Work Text:
How is he gonna get himself through his shift?
Despairingly, Morgan asks himself if people actually care that he’s a doctor. It sure as hell doesn’t look that way from where he is sitting, elbows deep in an MRI machine, oil staining his favorite pair of scrubs while he searches for anything that could be making the thing malfunction.
Ohio, sitting in the patient’s table, keeps him entertained with flowing chit chat, every once in a while sticking his hand inside the machine to share with Morgan some of the chips he’s snacking on.
"I wonder if the Chief Medical Superintendent knows I went to Med School, not engineering", he complains, half his body inching deeper inside the scanner to get a closer look at the panel he is working on.
"It’s cheaper to ask you, instead of calling a technician", shrugs his friend, patting his shirt to get rid of crumbs, "and the hospital-hired technician is busy with some shit on the prenatal wing. ’Sides, you are just as good as them, and twice as thoroughful, since, you know, you actually need this machine to work in top shape."
Sighing, Morgan puts the panel back in its place, cleaning up the mess of tools and cables before hopping off the table with Ohio and giving the nurse on the other side of the window a thumbs up to let her know she could turn it on. When nothing dramatic happens, every part working as it should, he rolls his shoulders and walks out, his friend throwing the empty snack bag on the trash can outside the room.
"I mean, it’s not just the Chief. Everyone in my life just, like, assumes I’m a Jack of all trades."
"Hate to break it to you, but you kinda are. Notice how you repaired a how many million dollars machine back there? On your lunch break from stitching people back together and stabbing them to health, no less."
"For the hundredth time, that’s not how surgery works."
"And I heard you helped Dave from ornithology with his accountant problem this morning", he keeps going, ignoring Morgan's complaints (as usual), "and you gave Nancy the night guard really sound legal advice for her custody battle with her ex last night."
"I’m just… passable at those things. Not good . Like I said, Jack of all trades, master of none."
"Better than master of one, asshole. Also, if your ‘passable’ is actually being able to repair an MRI machine, then it’s already better than most people’s ‘good’. I keep telling you, your parents absolutely fucked up your perception of your own skills."
Morgan sighs, and doesn't argue when Ohio follows him to his locker. Well known as he is becoming among the staff, he still is a Resident. A prodigy one, going through shifts and tests like it was going out of style and jumping years like a caffeinated kangaroo, but a Resident nonetheless. So, shared lockers it is. And everyone respected Ohio, and what he did for a living, too much to complain about him tagging along.
"What are you even doing here? If something on your flat broke, you’ll need to get a raincheck. Barnaby asked me to hang out today, and you know how hard it is for him to get proper down time to relax."
"Doesn’t this Barnaby kid have other friends to play psychologist with him? Must he always steal you away?"
"I'm not his psychologist", he mutters, getting a clean pair of scrubs from his locker and turning for the showers.
"Oh? So are you going to play video games and eat junk food, without him talking about his daddy issues or dog issues or whatever someone born and raised in Smalltown complains about, and you asking ‘how does it make you feel? ’, uh?"
So annoyingly accurate. He really needs to introduce those two- maybe getting to know each other would put a stop to their passive aggressive complaints about having to share Morgan's minimum free time.
If he closes the stall a little more forcefully than necessary, Ohio doesn't comment on it. Which… isn't usual. But he lets it go, because duty calls- and this is actually the job he signed up for.
When he gets out from assisting on a major surgery, blood pumping on his veins and the biggest grin on his face because the patient made it and is going to be fine, and sees his friend still hanging near the operation room, he makes the stupid - rookie - mistake of asking.
"Why are you even here, dude? Weren’t you supposed to take care of a case at Star Town’s General?"
And.. that face. Ohio only makes that face when something serious is wrong , and Morgan's surgery-high goes down alarmingly quickly. Because anything that can make him do that kind of expression is definitely bad.
"Just… you know how it breaks me when I can’t grant a kid’s wishes? I have one of those here in Capital City, and since I was in the hospital for it already, I thought, you know, seeing you might make me feel better."
He is still drenched in sweat -not blood, thankfully, since he disposed of his scrubs as soon as he was out of the surgical theater as per protocol- but neither of them care, so he drapes an arm over his friend's shoulders in a side hug.
Ohio's been a part of the Make a Wish Foundation since he was legally allowed to volunteer, as he himself had been one of the kids that got the chance to make a request. He felt it very deeply whenever he couldn’t help one of his charges, which wasn’t really often, and it crushed him to see the light in the kid’s eyes dimmer when he had to let them down.
Then it hits him. Ohio is in his hospital, so…
"You said you have a case here ? Isn't that, like, easy?"
Still leaning on him, the usually intrepid volunteer weakly nods.
"Capital City kids usually ask for pretty simple stuff. Since life here is so shitty, they are super easy to please. A transfer for their parents to a safer neighbor, a trip to Disneyland, to meet Mockingjay or Owlgirl… nothing I can’t get through the Foundation’s contacts, or by asking the police Commissioner to pass on the request to the heroes. But Hawk…" He sighs, retrieving a folder from his messenger bag and opening it, tilting it so Morgan can see. "Hawk's request is too much, even for our standards."
Morgan looks down to the picture on top of the file and feels his chest constricting. This is why he doesn't work with kids, it's too much for him to stomach.
Hawk seems to be around six, glancing up with tired, hurting but still innocent brown eyes at the camera. He has freckles all over his nose and his two front teeth are missing. Pale, small, obviously in pain but still smiling weakly, a Mockingjay plushie clutched on the hand not currently spotting the IV.
His wig is white-blonde.
"What did he ask for?"
He knows he's doomed, even before asking. He doesn't have many contacts among the Heroes in the world, mainly his brother, sister, brother in law and Barnaby, and a few here and there he had been strong armed into stitching up when he stumbled open them bleeding all over the sidewalk on his way home. If Hawk wanted something any of them could potentially provide, though, he isn't above using his secret knowledge to blackmail them into doing it, to hell with being added to the Fairness Association watch list.
Ohio shrugs and gently shakes Morgan's arm off, straightening as if gathering strength.
"He wants to meet the S Tier. Murderous, villainous, former Eternity Area Inmate S Tier. Fuck, why couldn’t it be Leader USA? Difficult as he is to reach, he won't kill someone for asking. I wouldn’t hold my breath with S."
Morgan is still so hung up on the first seven words he doesn't correct Ohio on Leader USA being hard to find- his brother in law literally works in this same hospital, after all. Not that Ohio would know, but still.
"Why?"
That is so out of reach for Morgan to help with, resourceful as he is. Besides a one time meeting with S Tier when they were nine (or at least he thinks the other boy was the same age as him), where he stumbled upon him crying in a playground and helped fix the broken camera he had apparently stolen from his parents, he never spoke with him again. And still, he wasn't 100% sure the kid was S Tier, beyond seeing his eyes in a wanted poster years after and going 'oh, he looks like camera-kid' . Or that S would even remember him .
But everyone and their aunt knows Capital City's crime lord is akin to a force of nature, vaporizing or just tearing to shreds anyone that dares approach him without being explicitly invited. Not even the heroes could do shit to him, and are constantly forced to let him go on his merry way when they stumble upon him in a restaurant or library to avoid fighting him, just to prevent the inevitable collateral damage. This isn't something he could bribe Diego into asking for him, and if he does, S Tier would be even more likely to say no if the request came from his 'kinda but not really in his level' nemesis.
"Damned if I know", Ohio rubs his forehead with a hand. "I’m going to see him now. If you want to come, you can ask him yourself."
It's a mistake, Morgan knows he is going to get himself emotionally involved, but. But…
"Yeah, let’s go."
___________________
A week, too many hours between shifts stalking rooftops instead of sleeping, a chance encounter with Barnaby while he was on the mask that he almost didn’t live through (seeing his friend in skintight spandex had him laughing so hard he almost fell to his death) and many cups of coffee later, Morgan had managed to get a pretty good insight on S Tier's schedule.
Enough so that he confidently walks into the bar where the villain has been spotted multiple times lately and chooses a table to wait at. Scared as he is -rightfully so; even if S Tier is his favorite out of all the criminals due to how badly he'd pissed off his parents before they retired from hero-ing, the man he is now is totally different from the kid whose camera he'd (maybe?) fixed… The folder (Hawk's folder) on his hands gives him courage, though.
This is why he doesn’t deal with kids. Half an hour with Ohio in that room talking with the kid and he was hooked, promising him he'd get his wish, to Ohio's consternation.
As he predicted -and hoped- the villain in cuestion strides in half an hour before midnight ( ‘mid-workshift drink ?’), a suitcase probably full of money under one arm, broad shoulders barely hidden under his flashy cape, muscular thighs shapely defined by tight trousers…
( …beautiful thighs, oh my god, security footage and police photos doesn't do him justice… )
...NOT THAT IT MATTERED, of course, what he looked like. Only thing that does, is Hawk's upcoming surgery, that could very well get him on the good path, or drop kick him into the sad one, and his innocent wish of meeting his… hero (?) before that ( ‘just in case I don’t get to see him after… ’, he had whispered when Morgan met him, and hearing his reasons for worshiping that specific man absolutely broke his heart).
He waits until the man has downed half the beer -hoping for a mood boost- before approaching. He makes sure to do it from the villain's direct line of sight, knowing startling him wouldn’t help his case. A blond eyebrow rises on the handsome face when S Tier realizes Morgan, a good head shorter, skin and bones, paler than milk Morgan, is actually walking towards him. He figures not a lot of people willingly do, not unless they have a bone to pick -and then break, because no one faces the S Tier and comes out unscathed- or are too drunk to properly assess the danger in front of them.
"Excuse me, Mr Dude?" he starts, and immediately winces. Yeah, really smooth. Fuck, Morgan, get a grip.
The barman snorts and promptly turns around, smartly deciding to keep away from whatever is about to go down. Morgan wishes he was him. His target calmly finishes his drink and leans a hip against the counter before fully taking Morgan in all his baggy clothed glory in, obviously not taking him for a threat.
"What do you want, kid?" His voice sounds placid enough, but he isn't fooled. He has treated enough people at the Hospital after a run in with this same man (the ones lucky enough to tell the tale) to dismiss the utter danger his mere presence meant.
Thinking of Hawk's sad but hopeful eyes, he squares his shoulders.
‘Here goes nothing .’
"Hi, my name’s Morgan Contenu, I’m a resident at Capital City's General Hospital. Uhm, this might sound kind of odd, but you see, my friend works for the Make a Wish Foundation, and there’s a kid… Hawk Hive. He's six, and you are… you’re his hero! I know, it sounds weird as fuck to me too. He really wants to meet you, though, used his wish on it. My friend doesn't know how to find you, but I heard you came here often," a little (big) white lie, but whatever ," and volunteered to ask you… If you could do it. I’m sure you’ll make the kid’s year, and I promise you we’ll keep it on the downlow so no Hero nor Vigilante will come after you, and/"
The sudden, thundering laugh stops him mid sentence, and he watches, aghast, how the Crime Lord rubs the corner of his characteristic golden eyes, so amused he actually teared up. A good chunk of the bar’s patrons started gathering their things without daring to look in their direction, as any Capital city born and raised civilian would at the sound of unprovoked, loud laughter.
The nerve!
"I’m serious!", he tries again, clenching his fist, caffeine (or anger) making it tremble. "He's just a kid, man, I know you are big and bad and… Don’t know, but this wouldn't even take that long, so could you just/"
"Yes, of course, and then the Fairness Association itself will show up to the tea party. And I'll have to spend a boring evening dealing with all of them. They are not even fun to fight. Listen shortstack, tell whoever sent you to shove it, okay? And maybe punch them for setting you up so cruelly to die. You're lucky I'm in a good mood and won't actually kill you. Now shoo, before I change my mind."
That’s it.
S Tier is already turning his attention -and body- towards the counter, hand half raised to ask for another drink, when Morgan's sleep deprived brain snaps. Without actually thinking, he shoves a hand towards the man, catching his shoulder to stop him from turning away in a rather violent way, basically pushing him like a playground bully. It's probably the surprise that keeps the crazily powerful and dangerous villain from breaking Morgan's arm in a reflexive move, and the young doctor doesn't give him a second to process, before shoving the open folder under his nose.
"No, you listen. See this? This is Hawk. Who, like I said, is six. Now, he doesn’t really understand what superpowers are, or why our law system is so faulty they let you walk free, or how death works. But Hawk, as a terminally ill patient and, even more, as a Capital City kid, knows drugs. And last year, he had to see his fourteen year old brother losing himself to them, because a dealer near his school got him and his classmates hooked. Their mother worked too long shifts, in hopes of raising enough money to keep her son on the best possible treatment, to keep a proper eye on her oldest child. And Hawk knew what was happening, knew his mother was powerless to stop it without neglecting her job and, consequently, his health. He felt so guilty , when the thugs his brother owed drug money to went to his place and beat up his mother almost to death. It was a matter of time, till someone died, and his already awful situation turned even worse. But then, something changed. You ."
The villain stares back at Morgan, wide golden eyes boring into him with shock, but he ignores them and keeps going. He seems speechless, which serves the young doctor just right, because he is middle-rant and won't stop no matter what, not even if he suddenly had a fist through his torso or some other weapon pointed to the head.
If he dies here, it's Ohio's fault. He knew what sad little kids did to Morgan and his self preservation instincts -as in, they obliterated them. Bastard probably introduced him to Hawk on purpose.
" You happened, because just when he thought his brother would die from overdose, or he would because his mom would stop working to help his brother get clean, or she'd get shot by an angry dealer… you appeared. You already had control of every drug dealing gang, not that he knows that part, and ordered them away from school kids, but those dealers had escaped notice until recently. And you found out, and made them stop . And without his source, and other dealers refusing to sell to him, his brother overcame the addiction. He’s now fifteen, clean, the best of his school’s football team and looking into possible scholarships. All because you came to Capital City, decided kids shouldn't get access to drugs and made it so. Even though you most likely did it on a whim, not because you truly care for the children, and probably were just butthurt that those dealers had the gall to defy you. Still, he told me he wants to meet you as soon as possible, because he's getting a surgery that might kill him soon, and if it does, he wants to be able to thank you before it happens."
Truly out of his mind at this point and on a roll, Morgan points at the photo, taking it from the folder and putting it a hair's width away from S Tier's nose, to make sure he couldn’t not look at it.
"Now I know you face dark and scary every night, and are darker and scarier yourself , but he fights even harder and riskier every minute of the day inside his own body , and is not an asshole that takes it out on people. If you actually care about children, basic human decency or maybe the scrap of goodwill you gained when you forbade selling drugs to kids, then you’ll actually go make this little boy happy, because his smile is worth more than whatever issue you might have with life. And if you don't care about any of that, you'll go anyway, because I might be small and scrappy… But I'm a missed-caffeine-dose away from hallucinating, have lost all faith in God and I am not scared to meet him, so I will break my hand on your jaw, to hell with the consequences, and you'll have to live your life knowing a good for nothing doctor actually had the balls to punch you even to the cost of his life."
With a last, totally unnecessary and petty but righteous stomp of his feet, Morgan finishes. Just because he's extra, he actually steals the drink the barman had left close to them for S Tier and downs it, so he can at least be hydrated when he dies. The rant felt good and right, until his brain actually kicks in, red lights and loud alarms blaring, reminding him he just badmouthed the biggest Crime Lord to ever exist to his face . In front of people .
Or, not. Everyone had left at some point- except the barman, who's doing a masterful job pretending to be deaf on the other end of the bar.
Still.
The hand that grips Morgan's shoulder and shepherds him towards the door feels like a death sentence. Morgan wonders if Diego would make it on time, if presses the panic button she had gifted him. Probably not.
"Marco", S Tier says over his shoulder, taking his suitcase and continuing to push Morgan outside, breaking the silence that befell the place during the doctor’s rant. "Put this on my tab, will you? I have to take care of something here."
If the barman gives some sort of answer, Morgan doesn't hear it, already outside.
‘So this is how I die. At twenty four, huh? Younger than I expected, but pretty normal by Capital City standards .'
S drags him to a deserted park two blocks away. Morgan spends the entire trip mentally writing his obituary. It's a pretty short one, too. All he wants on his tombstone is a “This was Ohio’s fault” and “Fuck my parents”.
Distracted as he is debating the merits of oak or maple wood for his coffin, he almost misses when S makes them stop near a streetlamp and finally speaks.
“Time and place”, he says, not looking at Morgan’s eyes. He seems gruff and weirdly unsure.
Morgan blinks. It’s kinda fucked up S is asking him to say his own time of death, but. Well. Supervillian, innit?
“Uhm, my phone’s battery is dead, sorry… Also, I don’t really know where the fuck we’re at, so…”
The Crime Lord’s eyes flash down quickly to Morgan’s, before blinking away. His face darkens, and it almost looks like a blush, except- it's impossible. He’s probably red with rage, mad at the whole situation.
But… Why would S even bother getting angry? He could just explode Morgan’s head if he’s pissed off, and leave without consequences.
Speaking off, he’s lasting a lot longer than he originally thought he was gonna get after screaming at the King of the Underworld, like that one new’s reporter had named S. Huh.
“I meant for the kid. Where and when should I go?”
This- Wha- It-
“Huh? I mean- aren’t you going to kill me? I… I literally scolded you. Like, full on read you the riot act.”
The man’s face turns even redder. Either he’s even more angry at being asked to explain himself, or Morgan’s sleep deprivation finally caught up to him and he’s full on hallucinating.
“For someone so clearly expecting death, you are awfully calm now.”
Morgan shrugs, relaxing despite himself. He’s far past the point of caring. It’s late, he’s hungry, he just yelled at a top ranked criminal and stole his drink. Whatever happens, happens.
“My parents and siblings are heroes, dying for something not even my business has always been a possibility. At least if I die now, I die as I lived- not giving a fuck and full to the brim of caffeine. My one regret would be not having had the time to try that new taco bell flavor. It would also suck dying before being able to rub my med degree on my parents’ face but, well… it is what it is.”
S’ face does something complicated, and his lips thin- almost like he’s trying not to laugh. Glad someone is finding this whole situation funny. Morgan is just tired.
“Well, if you are not gonna kill me right now, can we sit on the bench over there? I’m fresh out of a 48 hour long shift, where I was asked to do so many menial tasks I almost forgot I’m a doctor, to the point where I was actually surprised when a patient asked me for advice on something. And the adrenaline boost of yelling at you is dying now, so I’m about to fall over.”
The villain puts a warm hand on Morgan’s back to direct him to the bench, and it does things to his stomach that he’s not nearly coherent enough to parse out. He just slumps over, sighing deeply and longing for some coffee. S sits down next to him, kinda bashfully, and Morgan is like 65% sure they are in some sort of twilight zone.
“We could go somewhere more comfortable and eat, too, if you’d like,” the TOP CRIMINAL next to him says, cautiously. What is even his life?
“I don’t think I can stand up again. I’ll probably pass out as soon as we finish speaking and spend the night here. It’s okay, I don’t really have much on me that could be worth stealing.”
S looks like he wants to say something to that, but Morgan is, as previously stated, past the point of caring. He soldiers on.
“Well, humh, I mean, thank you for agreeing to this. It’ll really mean the world to Hawk. I’m not his primary doctor, but I’ve been tending to him lately since Ohio introduced us, and he’s a great kid. You’ll probably give him strength for his surgery and everything. So, like I said, I’m not really on the Make a Wish Foundation myself, I’m doing this on my own, it won’t count as his Wish. So, we’ll have to keep this on the downlow- you probably don’t want people to think you visit sick kids anyway.”
“It wouldn’t be very on brand for me, no.”
“Right, so I was thinking the day after… Sorry, what day is it?”
“It’s past midnight, so… wednesday.”
“That’s great, I’m off work tomorrow, so we can rendezvous on Friday. I’ll be waiting for you on the hospital roof, near the helipad, at… say, eleven pm? It’s after his Head doctor goes home, and the nurses are so tired by then they won’t needlessly check on Hawk out of their scheduled times if there’s no alarm going off. I’ll direct you to Hawk’s room and be on look out while you guys talk, then walk you back out.”
Somewhere during his speech, he started sliding down on the bench. His vision is getting fuzzy at the edges, so he might be wrong, but he thinks he ends up laying down on some very comfortable thighs. But that can’t be- S would surely take exception to that, wouldn’t he?
“I could just teleport myself in, and mind control anyone who approaches the room into leaving…”
“That would take out all the fun of it, though”, he hears himself whining, half the sentence stretched out in a yawn.
Something warm touches his head, going through his hair. Like a hand. But, again, it can’t be-
“Of course, of course… Morgan. We’ll do it your way. But I think I should get a reward for all my troubles.”
“Uhmmm…. Watcha…. want?”
“I’ll tell you over breakfast tomorrow. Sleep now.”
He’s notoriously bad at taking orders, but this one he can get behind. He lets his heavy eyes finally close and is dead to the world before he can even ask himself if the red had actually been a blush after all.
___________________
It’s not the first, and surely not the last, time Morgan wakes up on a park bench. He’s used to the unforgiving sunlight seering into his eyes the moment he opens them, the far-away sound of children playing (the bench was thankfully on a side path, away from the playground), the distant yells of the street vendors reminding him he hadn’t had dinner and is actually quite hungry.
It’s all very familiar. The new part is the villain’s lap he's laying on.
When he finally opens his eyes, he’s directly facing S, who’s looking down at him with a weird, thoughtful expression. They are in the exact same position he vaguely remembers falling unconscious to, which is weird with capital W, because it means the supervillain had not left at all during the night. He’d just… sat there with Morgan, kept still as to not disturb him in his sleep. That’s almost as shocking as him not killing Morgan but actually agreeing to his plan to visit Hawk had been.
Huh.
Well. Just as he’d been too tired to give a damn the night before, now he’s too hungry. S hadn’t killed him yet, so he probably won’t now- why wait the entire night to do so?
“Breakfast?” he asks, not bothering to sit up just yet. What? This lap is very comfy, thank you very much. “I have the ingredients for some killer waffles in my place, and I think you deserve some good ones after… everything? I kinda owe you.”
S is still looking at Morgan. He’s frowning a little now.
“I couldn’t see you very well last night, but you seem a little familiar…. have we met before?”
Ah- alright, time to get that out of the way.
“I think so… When I was like, nine, I fixed a kid’s parents’ camera in the park that he accidentally broke, and the kid looked like you, so maybe-”
“Mechanic kid!” S’ face brightens again. Morgan is momentarily stunned at how normally they are speaking right now, and how casually he’s still laying on this man’s lap. “Oh, yes, I do remember you. I never got to express my gratitude- my mother would have been very displeased with me, hadn’t you fixed my mistake.”
“Uh… no problem, dude. Mr S. Uh…”
“Alex”, the villain- no, Alex introduces himself. He’s still smiling at Morgan. He still has no idea what’s happening on his life right now. “You can call me Alex. And I guess we’re even, with me helping you with this Hawk kid.”
“I- erm, I guess?”
“...I still won’t say no to waffles, if- if you’re offering.”
It seems as much of a ‘get up from my lap’ as he’ll probably get while Alex is still feeling charitable, so Morgan does. He must imagine the way Alex looks briefly disappointed.
“Of course, dude! It’s the least I can do after not being vaporized. Let’s take a cab to my place, though. I do not feel like walking.”
“Or my minions could chauffeur us around.”
“... Yeah. Yeah, that works too.”
___________________
Hawk is incandescent with joy throughout his meeting with Alex. The villain looks like he’s enjoying himself, too, so maybe he’ll stop by after the surgery or something; the kid would be over the moon, and Morgan kinda likes seeing them together. Alex is crazy hot already, but the softer edge he has while sitting down in Hawk’s small hospital bed makes him, like, exponentially hotter. So much that looking at him too long could make Morgan vaporize himself, and wouldn’t that be ironic?
He still looks. Duh.
Ohio doesn’t believe him when he tells him the story. Neither does Barnaby. So he invites both of them over for dinner to try and convince them at the same time. It also fails, but not because his power point presentation was lacking; the losers were too lost in each other’s eyes to pay due attention. Whatever. Bitches, the lot of them. They deserve each other.
He’s not even upset at not getting the credit he deserves, after wrangling the most dangerous villain of the century into making a hospital visit to a sick child. Because even if no one knows what he accomplished, and he’s doing shit above his pay grade, and other departments beg him to fix machinery for them…
Well. He has a Taco Bell dinner date to look forward to, tonight. That’s enough to get him through his shift.