#every time I try to get up Milo frantically tries to lay on me even more

[puckle]

Been a while since I posted anything with legit me in it but as I am now forever trapped by Sharknado and Milo, I figured I would document my final resting place.

#sharknado #milo #puckle #every time I try to get up Milo frantically tries to lay on me even more

[milandas-law]

Milo/Ananda Fic Bits

Summary: Just me writing out mini fics for these two cuties.

Characters: Milo Murphy & Amanda Lopez (Of Course)

Hope you all enjoy these! If you have a favorite, tell me which one it is.

@arendalphaeagle @galaxina-the-pyro @welcome-to-rayman @nautiscarader

First Kiss (On The Lips)

Milo and Amanda were on their way to a diner for their date when it started to rain. Milo pulls an umbrella out of his backpack, only for it to get blown away. Amanda then puts her umbrella over the two of them and they run to the diner. After getting to the diner and taking their seats, they order the nachos.

After being brought out of the kitchen, their waitress trips and the nachos land on their faces. The two then start to laugh about. After that Milo decides to takes Amanda home. “Amanda, I’m sorry this date didn’t go as planned…” Milo apologized, feeling quite guilty. “Milo, similar things happened on our last date and I was perfectly okay with it.” Amanda pointed out.

“I know, I just wish I could give you the perfect date for once…” Milo says before noticed they were at the Lopez Home. “Milo Murphy…” he hears Amanda say before she kisses him on the lips. As they kiss, a few of the street lights explodes, causing a bit of a firework effect. When she pulls away, he shocked. “Every single date we have is perfect as long as I’m with you.” She tells him before going into her home.

“I’ll see you at tomorrow!” She quickly says before closing the door. Milo then walks home, smiling ear to ear. Diogee then walks up to Milo as he walked home. “She really kissed me, Diogee!” Milo tells his dog, clearly still shocked by the kiss.

Dinner With The Parents

Milo was getting ready to have dinner with Amanda’s parents. Sara could see he was clearly nervous. “Don’t worry Milo, I’m sure Amanda’s parents are gonna love you.” Sara assures her brother. “I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about Murphy’s Law ruining things tonight…” Milo tells his sisters.

Later on Milo was in front of the Lopez Home. He rings the doorbell and the door was quickly opened by Mrs. Lopez. “Oh Milo, you’re here! Come on in!” Mrs. Lopez says as she pulls Milo into the house. Amanda was sitting at the table with her father when she noticed him. “Milo!” Amanda squealed with joy before running up to hug him. Mr. Lopez just glares straight at Milo.

“Milo, our daughter has told us nothing but great this about you! You even helped her name her pet rats.” Mrs. Lopez told Milo as they sat down to eat. “Everything looks amazing, Mrs. Lopez!” Milo says while looking at all the food. “Thank you Milo, you’re such a sweet boy!” Mrs. Lopez tells Milo while giving him a plate of food.

Milo then notices Mr. Lopez glaring at him, Amanda notices this as well. “Dad, is everything okay?” Amanda asked, clearly worried. “Everything okay, sweetie! I just need to talk to Milo alone.” Mr. Lopez tells Amanda before he and milo walk out of the dining room and into the kitchen. “Look Mr. Lopez, I know you know about my family’s unlucky history, but I assure you I will always make sure Amanda’s safe around me!” Milo quickly says.

Mr. Lopez just puts a hand on Milo’s shoulder. “I don’t care about your “Murphy’s Law”,” He assures Milo which surprises the boy. “I haven’t seen my daughter the relaxed in a really long time.” He continues. “All thanks to you getting her on that show she likes. I never want her to lose such joy.” He went on and on, which caused Milo to smile.

“So if you EVER upset her in anyway, not even Murphy’s Law could save you. Do we have an understanding?” He whispers to Milo, which causes him to quickly nod his head. “I can assure you Mr. Lopez, I’d never do nothing to hurt Amanda.” Milo tells Mr. Lopez, the man then nods at him and the two of them then return to the dining room.

High School Sweethearts

Everyone who didn’t know them were so shocked to find out that someone like Amanda Lopez (Bossy Class President) would be openly dating someone like Milo Murphy (Adventurous Class Clown). A girl then walks up to Amanda was reading a book. “Hey Amanda, I was just wondering… how did someone like you end up with someone like Milo?” Amanda hears her say this and puts her book down.

“To make a long story short, we understand and love each other very much.” Amanda tells the girl before Milo runs into the cafeteria and up to Amanda. “Hey Mandy, I got your lunch, It didn’t get ruined this time!” Milo says before giving her the bag. “Thank you, Sweetie!” Amanda says in awe before kissing Milo on the cheek and giving him the lunch she made for him.

He then sat with her and gave her kisses on the cheek. She noticed he was hurt, pulls couple of band aids, places them on his wounds and gives him another kiss. As the two ate their lunches, they got noticeable stares from those who don’t know them. Sure they were the Odd Couple in their High School, but they didn’t care. They loved each other so very much.

Double Dates

Whenever Milo was out with Amanda and Zack was out with Melissa, the girls would sometimes try and compete over who has the better boyfriend. “Well, Milo is so precious and amazing to me!” Amanda tells Melissa. “Oh yeah? Zack is not only super good looking and awesome to me, he’s ever accepting of the craziest of things!”

Milo and Zack are just blushing messes during all of it. “Can we just go to dinner now?!” Zack shouts clearly embarrassed. Once the boyfriend competition is over, everyone has a great time. They go to lunch, parks and anything new that comes into town. “Another amazing day…” Amanda says as she and Milo lay on the beach while Melissa chases around Zack with water balloons.

“Wanna join in?” Milo asks Amanda before she picks up a water gun and squirts at him, causing him to run alongside Zack as they’re being chased by Melissa and Amanda.

Jealousy Wears Magenta

It wasn’t surprising that Just Getting Started would be a successful band especially with Amanda’s management (They’re all older and smarter after all). What was surprising was how many thirsty Fangirls would go after only Milo. He was quite the popular guy. Of course Amanda wouldn’t have any of their crap. If they tried to get to him, she’d personally deal with them.

During one of the band’s autograph signings, a perky blonde ran up to Milo and gave him a piece of paper to sign. “Who am I making this out to?” Milo asks the girl. “Your biggest and most loyal fan. Also here’s my number.” The girl says before she gives Milo another piece of paper with her number on it. “Sorry, but I’m seeing someone!” Milo quickly tells the girl before giving her back both pieces of paper.

“She doesn’t have to know!” The girl says defensively before feeling someone grab her shoulder. She turns around and sees a very angry Amanda, wearing her best magenta suit. “Yes, I do!” Amanda replies before dragging the girl away from the autograph signing area. When Amanda got back, Milo gave her a kiss on the lips.

“Have I ever told you how cute you are when you get jealous?” Milo teased Amanda which caused her to blush. “Don’t tease me Milo!!!” She squealed at him before he just gave her a kiss on the forehead. “You know you’re better than all those Fangirls.” Milo tells Amanda before they hear “you two better help us clean all this up!” from Melissa across the room.

Flirtatious Fey (LuckyBug and Fenix Fey AU)

Fenix Fey just finished helping his partner LuckyBug save the day. They were able to save the day, but Milo missed his date with Amanda. He went to their meet up spot as Fenix Fey and saw her still waiting for him with their planned picnic in the basket. “She’ll be so furious if I showed up as just myself…” He thought to himself before he walks up behind her and taps her shoulder.

She turns around and sees him. “Fenix Fey! Was Milo in the middle of the danger?! Is he alright?!” Amanda questions the hero frantically. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Madame Lopez, Milo Murphy is safe and sound” He informs her which causes her to sigh in relief. Then he notices her get really angry.

“Then take me to him right now! I’m going to give that cute disaster a piece of my mind!” Amanda went off while Fenix Fey tried his hardest not to blush. “Cute Disaster?!” He thought to himself while quickly looking away from her to hide his blush. It took him a few moments to get his composure back before Amanda could notice. He then picks her up in his arms and runs off.

“Madame Lopez, if you wanted to be in my arms, all you had to do was ask!” the hero in black smirked at the fact that his line made her blush. “The only guy whose arms I wanna be in right now are Milo’s.” Amanda whispered which causes Fenix Fey to go silent for a few seconds. “Okay, your boyfriend should be here soon,” He told Amanda as he put her down. “Thank you, Fenix…” Amanda says to the hero.

He then kisses her and then says “don’t miss me too much!” before winking at her and running off to turn back into Milo. He then takes a bouquet of dark pink roses out of his backpack and walks up behind her and taps her on the shoulder when she turns around and see him she immediately hugs him tight. “Don’t you dare worry me like that again okay?!” She says while pushing her head into his chest.

Milo drops the bouquet of roses and hugs her back. “I can’t tell her, not yet at least.” He thought to himself as he held her tight in his arms.

Their Big & Adventurous Family

Amanda had just given birth to her and Milo’s fourth child; Monica Julia Murphy, while their triplet sons; Lucas, Alejandro and Marshall were with their two sets of grandparents at home. When they got home the next day, their parents were sleeping and the boys were out of sight. Milo then quickly wakes up his parents and Amanda’s.

“Where are the boys?” Milo asked the parents. “They’re in bed…” Martin tells his son while wrapping his eyes, trying to stay awake. Milo then checks all three of their rooms and doesn’t see the three five year olds anywhere. “Mandy, Sweetheart… the boys aren’t in their rooms.” Milo says to Amanda, hoping she won’t freak out. Amanda then calmly gives her mother Monica and passes out in a chair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll drive around the block to look for them.” Amanda’s dad says before he goes to look for his car keys, only to realize they’re not in his pocket. “Where are my keys?!” Mr. Lopez shouts out loud. Meanwhile the triplets were slowly driving their maternal grandparents’ car. “Marshall, just turn us around!” Lucas whines as Marshall holds on the wheel.

“No! They’ll be too busy with the new baby to play with us!” Marshall protested while Alejandro was on the floor of the car. “I want mommy and daddy!” He cried out loud. “Don’t worry, Al! We’ll go back after our adventure!” Marshall assures his crying brother. Before they could get any further, Milo, Martin and Amanda’s father quickly stop them. There was no doubt the boys were in a lot of trouble that day.

Amanda had just triple checked the boys’ rooms to make sure they were all there when Milo walked up to her with a sleeping Monica in his arms. “You okay?” Milo asked Amanda before the two go sit down. “The boys could’ve gotten hurt today Milo! All because they thought their sister was going to replace them…” Amanda says, trying not to cry. Milo just holds her, carefully to not hurt the baby.

“Amanda, I assure you our family is going to be okay.” She hears him whisper before she takes Monica from him. She then says “I know it will be, I just hope this little cutie doesn’t act too much like her brothers.” While hugging Monica.

Seven years later, Monica learned to ride a two wheeled bike on her birthday and was now testing it out. On the roof! While Lucas and Alejandro shouted things like “Don’t worry Monica! We’re gonna get you down!” and “Monica! Please don’t fall!” Marshall shouted “You’re doing great sis! Pop a wheelie!” while recording her with his phone.

After they got Monica down, Amanda just hugged her for ten minutes straight. “Mommy, I’m okay really!” Monica assured her mother. “How did you even get up there in the first place?” Milo asked his daughter. “The ladder! I climbed it all by myself!” Monica says, clearly proud of herself for doing this. Amanda just signs with exhaustion and goes into the house to eat some leftover ice cream and cake.

“You okay?” Milo asked as Amanda ate her plate of ice cream and cake. “I’ll be fine… Our kids are a handful.” Amanda sighs which causes Milo to chuckle. Amanda then follows up with “But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” before Milo kisses her on the cheek.

#Milo Murphy's Law #MML #Milo Murphy #Amanda Lopez #Milo x Amanda #Milanda #Milomanda #Amandilo #Amilo #Organized Chaos #Fanfiction #Other Characters #Other Pairings #OCs #AUs #So proud of these!!

[fundeadasylum]

Cold

More Micoverse because I love Micoverse. Cody-centric this time. The best boy deserves some love. Hurt/comfort. Very mild compared to my usual stuff.

------

It had already started raining by the time they'd picked their way back down from the upper floors. It was a cold, heavy spring rain that chilled the air and made their breath come out in puffs of steam. Thunder grumbled in the distance, threatening worse than a simple rain storm.

"We should get home," Cody peered through an empty window frame by the stairs, squinting to try and spot some lightning, maybe count the distance in mammals.

"But we didn't check out the basement yet!" Milo gestured to the heavy steel door, warped on its hinges and coated in rust.

"I told you, we can't, it's blocked off," Cody huffed out a cloud, rubbing his hands together, "And the stairs are supposed to be collapsed."

"Lame," Milo said, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, "What were we supposed to find in this place anyway?"

"Mm? Oh, I dunno. The ghosts of the owners, I'd hoped," Cody tugged his cellphone from his pocket, frowning at the screen as he pulled up his notes, "Um, this used to be a bed and breakfast kind of place, off the beaten track, ya’ know. But then it was robbed and after that there was just a string of bad luck and the whole place went under. It's been untouched for ages. Nobody's even been murdered here but everyone says there's supposed to be ghosts in it."

"Aw, they say that about any abandon place," Milo kicked at the floor, making it groan agonizingly under his sneakers.

"Yeah, but there's supposed to be a curse on this place." Cody shot back, "Like, the longer you stay, the worse your luck gets until the house just. Kills you, I guess."

"My luck's already rotten," Milo sniffed, sullen and pouting now. He scrubbed at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie and sniffed again. The house creaked against the wind as it settled further into its grave.

"Well I'd rather not push mine, thanks. Let's go."

Milo got the first syllable of a witty reply out when the boards under his feet cracked. He cast a terrified look at Cody and they both made a run for the door. The floor creaked, cracked, groaned and then, finally, buckled underneath them. Milo toppled forward as his legs flailed in the air and there was a sick thud as his skull cracked against the edge of the floorboards. Cody saw a flash of bright red before he was falling, the light from his cell phone spinning and strobing dizzyingly around them as they plunged into the darkness below.

Cody’s back hit the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. He rolled onto his hands and knees, coughing and wheezing, spittle dripping out of his mouth as he tried to breathe again. The broken pieces of wood splintered on the floor around him, flinging pieces into the air, the sounds muffled by the ringing in his ears. By the time Cody had recovered enough to breathe properly and take in his surroundings, the only thing that could be heard was the steady downfall of rain and the rush of water leaking in from somewhere off in the dark.

"M-Milo...?"

No answer. Cody wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and sat back on his knees, readjusting his glasses and trying to peer through the dark. He could make out dark shapes from the light still filtering in from the hole they'd fallen through and one of them looked distinctly like a crumpled and alarmingly still body.

"Milo! Milo, wake up!" He hurried over but hesitated, shaking hands hovering over his friend’s body. He remembered it could be dangerous to move someone who'd been hurt, could make things worse, could kill them. But he had to be sure Milo was okay, he had to check, and it would be better if he was flat on his back, right?

As gently as he could, Cody rolled Milo onto his back. It wasn’t pretty. Milo was out cold, blood leaking from the deep gash in his head, and he already looked ashen in the thin light. Cody pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand and pressed it against the cut before he looked up and around for something that could help. His bag was upstairs by the front door and who knew where his phone had landed when they’d fallen down into what could only have been the blocked off basement. Which meant they were trapped.

Panic started to sink its teeth into Cody’s chest and he tried to keep a cool head, taking deep breaths and focusing on the chill already seeping into his bones from the cold around him. There were other options, there had to be other options, he could get them both out of here, he just had to think about it.

Milo! Milo had a cellphone!

Using his free hand, Cody pawed at Milo’s jeans pocket and managed to tug the phone free. He pressed the home key, eyes already narrowed as he expected the light of the screen to blind him. But nothing happened. Cody frantically hit the button again and again, eventually holding the power button to see if it had been turned off. The logo showed up and he felt a brief surge of hope. Only to have it come crashing down in a wave of icy panic as an empty battery symbol flashed on the screen before the phone went dark again.

“Miillllooooo,” Cody slumped over his friend, sending an exasperated look at the other boy’s slack face, “Why don’t you ever charge your phone, man, come on!” He cast about for his own missing device again, chewing on his lip, “Shoot. Okay. I—I gotta try and find my phone, okay Milo? I’ll be—I’ll be right back, I swear. I just gotta—we need to call for help. I’ll be right back.”

With a grimace, Cody peeled his jacket sleeve away from Milo’s head. The wound still looked raw and nasty but the bleeding didn’t seem as bad. Cody shook his sleeve out, wincing at the sticky feel on his skin, and darted off into the dark to try and find his phone. He dropped to his hands and knees, peering at the ground, patting the cold cement under his hands until his fingers went numb. The basement was getting darker, the rain coming in harder, the thunder getting louder as the storm rolled in over top of them. Cody’s frantic searching increased, his breath coming quicker as he fought down the panic trying to overtake him. His eyes burned and he blinked furiously, refusing to cry, his hands shaking with cold and emotion as he tripped over his own feet, struggling to find his way.

He was only a few feet away from Milo when he splashed into icy water.

Cody jerked back with a yelp of surprise, the knees of his pants and the sleeves of his coat already soaked. The rain must have been leaking into the basement, forming puddles across the floor. With another frown at his circumstances, Cody turned back the way he’d come and continued his search for his phone.

It turned out to be resting face down in a pile of wood in the other direction. Cody tugged it free and thumbed the screen, heart pounding in his chest. The weak flicker it gave him in return did little to boost his confidence but it still worked, it still turned on.

The screen was shattered.

It barely registered his touch and he swore he could feel splinters of glass slicing into the tips of his fingers and thumbs every time he tried to press on it. Or maybe that was just the cold taking up residence in his flesh.

The cold.

If he was already this cold, then Milo must have been freezing. He was laying motionless on the cement, exposed to the droplets of rain already pitter-pattering through the hole in the floor above. Cody stuffed his damaged phone into his pocket and hurried back to his friend. Milo still hadn’t moved, his breathing shallow, his face smeared in red. Cody hesitated again and then crouched down, hooked his hands under Milo’s arms, and heaved, dragging him backwards across the floor until his back bumped into a cold wall. Then he settled down, legs outstretched, and awkwardly positioned Milo on top of him so that his friend’s head was in his lap and his body was resting mostly on Cody’s legs and off the floor. It wasn’t much and Cody was sure his legs were going to fall asleep but it would have to do. He had to take care of Milo until help could arrive.

Leaning back against the wall, he pulled his phone out again and set about trying to navigate through the broken screen. It was frustrating and laborious and more than once he wanted to scream at the difficulty of it. His fingers were sore and the cold was making him shiver by the time he managed to get to his text app. The rain was a heavy drum beating relentlessly against the building. Cody could hear something splashing deeper in the dark of the basement.

It took even longer for him to type out a message to his dad,

Sent (3:27pm): sos Sent (3:29pm): trap in home 7561 steer dr Sent (3:32pm): floor broke n milo bleed Sent (3:33pm) sos

He took a moment to collect himself, swallowing tears past the sticky rock of fear and helplessness that was choking in his throat. He rested a hand against Milo’s neck, felt his friend’s pulse under his sore fingertips, watched the shallow rise and fall of Milo’s chest. Blood had oozed down the side of Milo’s face and stained Cody’s jeans. That was the least of his worries.

Bracing himself for another arduous task, Cody picked up his phone again and navigated to the dialer. His hands were shaking as he pressed the numbers into the flickering screen.

“Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?”

Cody drew in a shuddering breath, his free hand clutching at Milo’s signature hoodie, “M-my friend and I are--are stuck. Trapped.” He choked. Saying it out loud was somehow so much harder than just texting it to his dad. His eyes burned and he tried to blink the tears away but they fell this time, hot against the cold skin of his face, “W-we’re stuck. P-please, the f-floor broke--we can’t g-g-get back up. He’s hurt--I can’t--”

“It’s all right. Take a deep breath. Can you tell me your name?”

“Cody. C-Cody Bridges. A-and Milo--my friend is M-Milo Sumney J-Junior.”

Okay, Cody, can you tell me where you are?”

“S-s-seven--” His voice hitched and he took a couple of breaths to try and force the words out. His back was starting to hurt where he’d hit the cement floor, “Seven f-five...seven five six one, um, Steer D-d-drive. The--the old h-house--B’n’B--the f-floor broke, we were just--we were--” He hiccuped, tears running faster down his face. Because in all the times he and Milo had poked around abandoned buildings, of all the splinters and bruised shins and scraped elbows, they had never been stuck like this before.

“Cody, take a deep breath for me. Let it out slowly. Good.” The person on the phone was calm, centered, grounding and Cody latched onto their voice like a lifeline, “Keep breathing, Cody, you’re doing a good job. Help is no its way to you now. I need you to stay on the line for me, okay? Can you do that?”

Cody nodded, remembered the operator couldn’t see him, and let out a breathy, “Yeah. Yes. I can do that.” He looked down at Milo, tears smearing his vision as he sniffed, “M-my friend--Milo’s knocked out. Please h-hurry. He hit his h-h-head really hard.”

“Is he still breathing?”

“Yeah. I m-moved him th-though. It was t-too cold on the floor.”

“Milo sounds like he’s lucky to have a good friend like you.”

Cody was about to respond when something wet and cold soaked into his jeans. He worried for a moment that maybe he had been hurt after all and was only just now noticing the injury. But when he looked down, the panic that had been slowly easing in his chest sank its claws into him all over again, ripping open his racing heart and letting a cry of fear escape him.

“There’s water!” He shouted into the phone, trying to shift away from the expanding lake lapping against his leg, “Th-the rain is flooding the basement! You gotta hurry! Please!”

“Help is coming, Cody, but I need you to try and stay calm. Is there anything tall that you can climb up on?”

Cody tried to shift around to look but it was too dark and he didn’t dare leave Milo alone when the water was creeping up on them so rapidly. He told the operator so, a fresh wave of tears choking his words, his hands shaking from cold and fear. A crash of thunder, so loud and so clearly overhead that it was a wonder he hadn’t heard it sooner, made him jolt. He slammed against the wall, whimpering as the pain jolted him, and the phone slipped from his numb fingers. It cracked against the cement and went out faster than a candle in the wind, vanishing into the rising water.

A sob choked Cody’s throat and he pulled Milo closer to him, using all the strength in his cold limbs to heave his friend up against him, letting Milo’s head rest on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around Milo and drew his knees up, openly crying as the cold seeped into his bones and the rain pounded around them. Another boom of thunder had him ducking his face into Milo’s hoodie, his breath coming so rapidly it made his head spin. Water seeped into his shoes, soaking his socks and nipping at his ankles.

“CODY!”

A familiar voice made him look up. Through the gloom and panic, he could just about make out the figure of his dad, hovering near the edge of the hole.

“Dad!” His voice cracked, “Dad, we’re down here!”

Lights flashed behind Dominic and he looked over his shoulder. There was distant shouting that was quickly muffled by another boom of thunder. Cody was shaking so hard he swore he could hear his own teeth rattling in his skull. Then Dominic vanished from sight, stepping back as flashlight beams swung through the air.

“DAD!” Cody cried, “DAD COME BACK! DAD, DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!”

“Cody Bridges?” An unfamiliar voice, an unfamiliar figure. They crouched over the hole, aiming a flashlight down into the basement, “My name’s Lilly Meyer. Me and my team are going to get you out of there but I need your help, okay? Can you come over to the hole?”

“N-no! I can’t leave M-Milo!” He was still crying, gasping in uncontrollable sobs, clutching Milo so the rest of the world wouldn’t tear away his best and only friend, “Where’s my daddy!? B-bring my d-d-dad back!”

“Cody, I need you to breathe, okay honey? Deep breaths. We’ll get you out of there and you can see your dad again. He’s got to stay back for his own safety right now though. My team’s going to come down and get you and your friend out,” Cody couldn’t see it but he could hear the reassuring smile in her voice,

“It’s going to be okay, Cody. I promise.”

And it was. At least to the extent that such a scenario could be okay.

Cody was shivering and soaked to the bone and heaving desperate breaths choked with tears. As soon as the team had pulled him up from the hole, he rushed into Dominic’s waiting arms, burying his face in the man’s chest and openly sobbing. His dad fretted, he always fretted, his hands and voice shaking as he pulled Cody close and ran a hand through his sopping hair. He was warm, in that moment, the warmest, kindest, gentlest person Cody had ever been around and Cody would have given almost anything to make that sensation of safety and security and love last for the rest of his life.

But eventually they had to separate. Cody still held his dad’s hand on the way to the hospital, sniffling in the back of the ambulance while the paramedics checked on the unconscious Milo. He held his hand while the doctor’s looked him over, held his hand while Jake and Dan came bursting into the room looking fit to cry themselves, held his hand until he fell asleep like that, leaning against his dad, the voices and noises of the hospital washing over him.

Milo had a concussion and managed to catch himself a nice little case of bronchitis and a severe scolding from his dads. Cody ended up with a fever and nasty bruises on his back. Both of them were grounded for two weeks.

#micoverse

[mushroomminded]

Bend Until You Break (Part 3)

Written by @fundeadasylum, illustrated by myself.

Warning for heavy violence, torture, and generally a bad time.

Part 1 Part 2

Back to square one. He was right back where he started when he first came to the Facility. Only this time he was weaker and exhausted and terrified of his own body. Milo had never experienced such a prolonged sense of fear. It clung with sticky tar fingers to his mind, jarring him awake in the middle of the night with muscle seizing terrors painted across the backs of his eyes. It made his breath short, his lungs cramped against the walls of his narrow ribcage, struggling to expand against the steel beams of panic wrapped around them. Food wouldn’t stay down because the idea of feeding whatever it is that’s inside him made him wretch. Worse still were the phantom sensations; the feeling that something was wriggling underneath his skin, twisting amidst muscle fibers and chewing on his already frayed nerves, like if he put a hand on his stomach he would feel it move. But he still wanted his hoodie back. Even if whatever was inside him came from his hoodie—his completely normal, definitely not cursed hoodie—he wanted it back. He’d had it for as long as he could remember. And it was his. Milo let out a choked whimper, pressing his hands over his eyes as he lay curled under the blanket on his cot, hiding from the cameras and other prying eyes. He wanted his hoodie back. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be safe and warm and loved. He wanted Dan to pick him up like he weighed nothing and spin him around in a bear hug. He wanted Jake fretting over him like an anxiety ridden mother hen. He wanted Cody telling him off for trying another harebrained scheme to get big views on his channel. He wanted normal. He wanted safe. He wanted his family. ——— If Milo thought the testing from before was intrusive, it was nothing on what they were putting him through now. They took sample after sample from him; from his skin, his saliva, his blood, and anything else they could get at short of cutting him open. They shoved cameras down his throat and into his stomach, leaving him raw and hoarse. They induced vomiting to see the contents of his stomach, then they fed him chemicals and made him do it again to see if anything had changed. He overhead Dr. Pearce talking to one of the nurses once, discussing how Mr. and Mrs. Sumney kept bothering the facility for their son back. Pearce had said something about forced government ownership and how there probably wasn’t anything human left, that it was just a thing wearing a teenage boy’s skin, and Milo had screamed. Just sat strapped in a chair with drugs in his veins and wires taped to his head and screamed at the indecency of it all until they’d muzzled him again.

“The rapid weight loss is becoming a concern,” Another doctor told Pearce as they checked Milo’s vitals. He was perched on the edge of an examination table, legs dangling in the air as he swayed dazedly from side to side. An occasional shudder would rattle down his thin frame, making him blink rapidly as he appeared to come back to himself for a few seconds before he would fade out again.

“He’s just not keeping food down and at this rate, we might lose him.” The doctor continued, not at all put off by the progressively sour expression on Pearce’s face, “I suggest we hold off on further testing until we can get his body at an acceptable and healthy weight. He’s obviously suffering trauma. He needs a chance to recover.”

“As much as I hate to push back our timetable, I have to agree with you,” Dr. Pearce shot a glance at Milo who looked ready to drop, his cheekbones sharp angles and his wrists pencil thin, “What’s left of the host is wasting away. Start him on a food plan and make sure he’s getting vitamins and nutrients. Provide psychological assistance at your discretion.” The woman’s fingers drummed across her clipboard, “The director is breathing down my neck about this project. It’s going to take a bit more convincing to get the board to favor our bid to keep the host as a government acquisition. This is our first chance at a supernatural breakthrough like we’ve never had before and I am not going to let it slip through our fingers.”

———

“Come on, come on, come on. Please.”

Milo’s voice was a breath across his own hands as he shivered under his blanket. He was laying sideways, curled on his cot, the blanket pulled over his head as he shakily worked on unlocking the phone he’d stolen days ago. He was surprised he still had it, that he’d managed to keep it a secret and no one had come looking for it. But then, rich people probably bought new phones all the time and the loss of one was no big deal.

Frustrated tears welled into Milo’s eyes, a soft hiccup shaking his thin frame. He had almost cracked the damn thing but kept falling short at the end and it was exhausting him. The hope he’d felt when he’d first stolen the device had all but fizzled out by now. He was beginning to think the battery would die before he could ever get it unlocked. Wiping tears from his eyes with one hand, Milo tried again to unlock the phone, praying with every ounce of himself that was left that this time, this time, it would work.

Someone must have been listening because in the next instant, Milo was blinking stupidly at the home screen. By the time his shocked brain had processed what was happening, the screen had dimmed in preparation to lock again. Milo scrambled, tapping frantically at the screen and paging through applications until he found what he was looking for.

He checked to make sure the phone was on silent and then opened the app. The logo lit his face up in bright blue and, for what seemed like the first time in months, Milo smiled.

———

“Open. Your mouth. Now.”

“Pry his jaws open, he’s not going to cooperate.”

“Stupid kid, does he want to starve to death?”

“Open your mouth!”

“Hey! Don’t touch me you—stop it! Leggo of m—AHGK!”

“Feeding tube in place. Dispense supplements.”

“Nutritional supplements incoming. Round one.”

“Clear. Dispense round two.”

“Round two is a go. Incoming.”

“Clear.”

———

His weight came back slowly and, as it did so, they started pushing him hard again.

They forced him onto a treadmill with a mask over his nose and mouth, and varied the strength of the oxygen being released to see what would happen. He passed out and twisted his ankle badly when the still running treadmill had shot him into the wall behind him.

Pearce was as cold and ruthless as ever. She’d stopped calling Milo by his name, only referring to him as “the host” on a good day. On a bad day, he was just “it”. Dehumanized and objectified, nothing but a smear on a glass slide to be studied until it could provide no more information. Every time she called him “it” his insides would turn icy and his breathing would pick up as he was forced to remember that stuff they had pulled out of him.

They hadn’t seen any of it since.

Though Milo was bracing for the day they stuck that huge needle back into stomach to see what they could find.

———

just keep fighting

we’re coming for you

i promise

———

Milo would have been suspicious if he hadn’t spent most of his time sleeping.

No one had come for him. The door never opened. No one tried to force him into that awful muzzle, no one tried to stick him full of needles, no one said a word to him. The most they’d done was escort him to the bathroom that morning but that was a short walk and no one had spoken. His food was delivered as always but there was nothing else.

The silence dragged on his ears, prickling against the back of his neck. But fretting about it only wore him out so he spent most of the day asleep.

He didn’t touch the phone he’d hidden inside his mattress. As much as he longed to spend all day on it, he knew they were still watching him and it would be obvious he was up to something if he spent all day underneath the blanket on his cot. So he paced his room, stretching out his sore muscles, sat cross-legged on the low table just to be spiteful, and eventually migrated back to the bed. He sat there for a while, humming to himself, staring off into space.

But the exhaustion lay thick and heavy on his bones and he ended up sleeping until his lunch was delivered.

Still nothing from outside his room. No tests, no science jargon, no Pearce looking at him like a rat in a maze. Nothing. Milo wanted to be suspicious, wanted to fret and worry and pace, wanted to try and figure out what was going on. But he was tired, so tired, and the sweet paradise of finally being left alone was too much to deny.

So he slept. And he dreamed of escape.

———

Milo knew better, he really did.

He knew that when they left him alone for an entire day, it was probably because they were planning something monstrously awful. But he’d been so damn tired, so exhausted and so taken with the thought of just sleeping, that he hadn’t really had time to think about it.

If he’d had, he may have had time to plan. Although, given his circumstances, even if he had, it would probably have been for naught.

The nurses had swarmed him early in the morning, dragging him out of bed before he’d even woken up. The blanket was ripped away and he was plucked off his cot before the lukewarm air of his room had sunk into his skin. By the time he’d blinked the sleep from his eyes and oriented himself as to what was going on, the nurses had hauled him halfway down the hall. They’d already passed the bathroom and the showers and showed no signs of slowing as they neared the halls that led to more unfriendly rooms.

“H-hey,” Milo’s voice croaked with the last vestiges of sleep, “Hey, what’s going on? What’s happening? D-did I do something wrong?” Milo wracked his brain as they pulled him down another hall, trying to think what he could have done that made Pearce break her oh so precious schedule. He didn’t pay attention to where they were going until the sharp stench of chemical cleaner burned into the back of his throat. He raised his head in time to see the nurses push open a set of double doors and into a large room that was dark except for the brilliant circle of lights in the center.

They did a fantastic job of lighting up the polished steel operating table.

It took mere seconds for Milo to register the tray of medical tools, the team of doctors with surgical gloves and masks, and the heavy straps on the table. The cold terror that flooded him made his muscles seize and his throat close up, his breath clogging in his lungs and his eyes wide. He looked petrified. But when the nurses lay him on the table, he jolted back to life with a panicked scream.

They weren’t ready for it and he bolted, slithering out of their startled grasps and running for the doors. Everything felt like too much and not enough in those brief moments of freedom; the hard floor underneath his bare feet was icy cold, the heavy shocks of his own footfalls sent ripples up his bone, he could feel his own breaths scraping his throat like sandpaper. The room stretched, narrowing into a single focus, a single point in all of existence—the double doors. The way out.

Of course, he was never going to make it.

A weakened teenager in a room full of healthy adults didn’t stand a chance.

Someone tackled him, arms wrapping around his waist and dragging him to the floor with a bang. Milo screamed and twisted around in his assailant’s grip until he was on his back. He kicked out ferociously and the heel of his foot smashed into the nurse’s nose. He felt something crunch and the man let him go with a yelp, hot blood splattering from the broken nose Milo had given him. Milo scrambled away, clawing across the sleek floor until he’d managed to get back to his feet and was running for the door again. He could hear their heavy footsteps behind and he pushed himself until his breath rattled and wheezed in his chest, stretching his hand out in desperation. His palm stung as it slammed into the door bar, sending him tripping over his feet into the brightly lit hallway. The overhead fluorescents dazzled his eyes as he bounced off the far wall and nearly fell over, panic shooting spikes of fear and adrenaline down his spine. So loud was the beating of his own heart in his ears that it almost drowned out the shouts of the pursuing staff, the white-out terror in his mind blinding his thoughts as he ran. He had no idea where he was going, no idea how to get out, no idea where to go. He only had the animal driven instinct to get out. A flash of yellow against the pale halls of the Facility caught his eye and Milo registered the words “Closed For Maintenance” on a wide plastic stand blocking another hallway. He didn’t even think, just launched himself past the sign, his shoulder clipping the edge and leaving a sting that quickly faded amidst his adrenaline rush. He smelled mortar dust and drywall, that metal-ozone tingle of power tools, saw the plastic sheeting draped from the ceiling, and tripped over a box of hammers and wrenches lying open in his path. He slammed into the floor, ears ringing with the impact of his head hitting the hard tile, momentarily stunning him. “Shit, is that a kid?” “The fuck—“ “Hey, kid, you okay?” Men in overalls and hardhats loomed over him and Milo whimpered, backpedaling frantically away from them. They were adults, they were strangers, and they were in the Facility—they were not to be trusted. The workers took several steps back, glancing at one another, and then they all turned to look back down the hall as shouts rang out from Milo’s pursuers. Milo didn’t wait for them to catch up. He’d spotted a likely escape route; an unblocked air vent next to a ladder, the covering hanging open, the metal interior looking more than inviting. Milo bolted for it, banging his shins on the steel steps of the ladder as he clambered up it. He had to jump to reach the air vent, not quite tall enough to reach it even from the top step of the ladder, and his leap caused the ladder to tip and fall over with a resounding crash. Milo’s fingers dug into the smooth metal of the vent as his bare feet kicked against the wall, trying to push himself in, trying to get away before— Hands closed around his ankles and gave a savage yank, dragging him out of the air vent, his fingers squealing across the unblemished metal as he screamed at the top of his lungs. They caught him as he came tumbling out of the wall, firm grips settling vice-like on his arms and legs, holding him in the air between a bustling group of nurses that carried him far too easily through the plastic sheeting. He screamed and cried and called for help, bucking against their hold, his back arching as he tried to pull away. There was a lot of shouting and angry voices, all of them smearing together around him, incomprehensible and terrifying. When they hauled him back into the surgical room, Milo’s fear was so much that he began to hyperventilate, dry heaving and coughing as he choked on his own saliva. The nurses and doctors paid him no heed, only using the distraction to fasten him to the cold metal table. Milo sobbed as they painfully tightened the straps across his body, the same way they had when they stuck that huge needle in his stomach. The coughing got worse as his panic escalated, tears blurring the bright lights into white starbursts. Bile and something sour and metallic clogged his throat, bubbling into his mouth and spilling over his lips. It felt sticky and suffocating, like glue clinging to the inside of his mouth. Milo thrashed, trying to breathe through the gummy slime and blood that frothed out of him. The shouts of the staff sounded far away as his vision darkened at the edges, the pinch of the needle in his arm a distant prod against his dulling senses, the taste of blood and rot over powering everything else. His eyelids fluttered, ice prickling through his veins, his mind going fuzzy as the world became indistinct and melted away from him. And then it was dark and it was quiet and Milo was gone.

———   the dull ache of a body in pain                                (his body?) muffled ping of sound, far away, constant                                                                (beep…beep…beep…beep)    something that might have been voices                (underwater?) floating, weightless, untouchable                                  (where…?) darkness ——— Milo woke up because he hurt. His eyelids fluttered but he closed them again when bright light seared across his vision. A soft, pained grunt made its way out of his mouth and it hurt. Everything hurt; his legs, his arms, his face, his head, all of it ached or twinged or pounded. But his chest…his chest burned. Milo whimpered, a weak sound that was barely a breath, and tried to move but it sent fire through his veins and nausea swimming through his system. His stomach heaved, which only caused him more pain, and he cried out, the scrape of sound in his throat like tiny needles tearing him up from the inside out. Even the prickle of tears heating up his eyes hurt like acid dripping into his skin. There was the all too familiar hiss of a hydraulic door opening and a set of hurried footsteps. A hiss of displeasure. Something clinked and jostled above him. Milo cracked his eyes open, looking through heavy lashes at a hazy figure beside him. Blinking a couple of times made his vision settle and he realized it was a nurse and she was busy with a bag of medicine on a pole. It took his sluggish brain a few minutes to put two and two together but when he did, it drew another pathetic whine out of him. The nurse glanced at him, met his pleading gaze, and looked away, still fussing with switch out the medical drips that fed who knew what into the needle in the back of Milo’s hand. “Please…” His voice was hoarse, cracked, weak and strangled as if he’d swallowed sandpaper. He wasn’t even sure what he was asking for, all he knew was that he was tired and he was hurt and he wanted someone to comfort him, “P-please…” The nurse cast one last glance at him and then turned away, walking back out the door and ignoring the broken cries that followed after her. ——— Milo drifted in and out of sleep. He was recovering from…something. Something bad. He couldn’t think of what. He couldn’t think much of anything with the drugs they were pumping into him.

They tended to him, were careful to keep him stable and alive and as put together as they could. But they wouldn’t comfort him. They wouldn’t ruffle his hair or pat his hand or tell him everything would be okay, that he was strong, that he was a fighter. The ache inside him was more than just physical.

———

He didn’t know how long it took him to recover. He barely remembered the time at all, only left with a vague sense of weightlessness, dulled pain, and harried voices.

Milo was still sore when he was finally aware of his surroundings, but it was a manageable soreness, the kind that came from the tail end of still healing injuries. His breathing was still shallow and excess movement hurt but he was awake and he was alive and that had to count for something.

He also woke up alone but he tried very hard not to think about that.

Once he recovered enough to register the tiny hospital-like room he was in, he’d switched to self assessment. All his limbs were still in place, two eyes, all his teeth, his tongue, and all the other important external bits. It was when he was running the palm of his hand down the front of his hospital gown that he realized something was wrong. His fingers were bumping over lines that weren’t there before, the light tingle of raw pain fresh against his mind as he touched his chest again. The beeping of the heart monitor increased.

Hands shaking, Milo gently pushed the blankets aside and curled his fingers around the hem of his gown. His breathing was loud in his ears, rasping over his dry throat as his heart beat a tattoo against his rib cage. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted the gown up, exposing the pale, trembling expanse of his legs, his narrow waist where his hipbones stuck out like handrails, his stomach that was only slightly less concave than it had been. And then—

Milo choked, his hands shaking so badly he could barely keep a hold of the edge of the gown.

There was a hint of stitches peeping cheekily out at him.

Just tear the bandaid off, just rip it off, it’s over faster if you just rip it off, come on, just look, just look, damn it, just LOOK—

Milo looked.

And he screamed.

———

The nurses and doctors who swarmed into his room at the noise and the alarms of the disconnected heart monitor found Milo in front of the shallow sink of the bathroom. He’d managed to drag his IV pole in with him, probably the only thing that had kept him on his shaking feet as he’d made his way into the side closet of a room, but his trembling hands were now gripping the edge of the basin so tightly his knuckles were white. His hospital gown was twisted around back to front, the ties on it hastily undone down to his waist. It hung off one shoulder, exposing the jutting line of his collarbone and the taut stretch of his neck, his freckles as faded and pale as the rest of him. But Milo’s eyes were snagged on the precise, even I-shaped scar across his abdomen. It crossed from just underneath one shoulder, over his sternum, and to the other shoulder, a line down his middle curving him perfectly in two, and curled over his stomach from hip to hip like an obscene belt. Medical staples pinched his separated skin together again, grotesque imitations of body piercings that stamped evenly around the incision, gleaming dully in the bright overhead lights. Milo’s gaze flickered to the reflections of the doctors in the bathroom mirror, “Wh…hn…wh-what dh-did you…gh��” He ducked his head towards the sink, exposing the prominent curve of his spine, his breathing heavy as he tried not to throw up, “What did you dh-do to m-me…?” “It would be best if you returned to your bed—“ One of the nurses began, reaching out to take his arm. Milo wrenched himself away, tripping backwards until he’s plastered himself against the wall between the sink and the toilet, chest heaving, his mutilated skin stretching against the staples holding him together. Panic glazed his eyes and his voice came out in a broken rasp, “What did you do to me!? WHAT DID YOU DO!? WHAT DID YOU DO!?”

——— They moved him back to his old room. And Milo made sure to give them hell. He refused to eat the food they gave him, going so far as to dump it on the floor and smear it on the walls, forcing them to clean it up while he sneered at them from behind his muzzle. Not because he wasn’t hungry—he was terribly, gut-wrenchingly hungry—but because he was too pissed and hurt to care anymore. When he wouldn’t eat, they stuck a drip in in his arm. He tore it out and left bloody splatters across the room. They stuck it in his hand and ripped that one out too, snapping at them when they rushed in to bandage him up. He left it alone when they put the drip into his neck, too afraid of what it could do to him if he took it out on his own. It made his blood boil to know they’d won that round. Sometimes he would scream for no reason, just sit on his bed and scream wordlessly until his voice cracked and broke. Other times he would remain quiet, staring at the ceiling or the wall, never saying a word or moving. There were a couple of times he purposefully tipped his IV pole over, crashing it against the floor, but the tug at the line in his neck spooked him too much to keep up that behavior. They still took him out for testing but were far gentler about it. They called him Subject 0-1A. No one said his name anymore. Dr. Pearce didn’t even bother with the brainwashing procedures now. When he’d snidely asked if she’d given up, she calmly informed him that Mr. and Mrs. Sumney no longer had any claims to him. He was the property of the Facility for the Exegesis of Abnormal Realities. The board and the director, she’d continued as he’d gaped at her in horror, had unanimously decided that whatever Subject 0-1B (his hoodie, apparently) was brewing inside Milo, it had the potential to be a dangerous threat and must be contained at all costs. He tried to bite her for that and it got him a swift punch in the jaw. ——— Milo’s chest was a constant state of pain. It throbbed dulling, scraping across his senses, always reminding him of what they’d done to him. Wearing the pajama shirt just made it worse, itching against raw and bruised skin. So he’d stopped putting it on, even though it turned his stomach to see the way his flesh was warped and twisted and bunched against the staples, the angry red of the vivisection lines traced delicately over his thin frame. The worst of it was that the doctors wouldn’t leave it alone. They would put him under and when he came to, he knew, he just knew, they’d pulled out all the staples and peeled back his skin and muscle and went poking around his insides again. It always left him tender and sore, left him feeling violated and disgusting and far less than human. It was a wonder this constant opening and closing of his chest cavity hadn’t killed him. But of course, they were very careful with him. Oh so careful to make sure he stayed alive. He did get sick, once. Horrifically so. His fever was so high he was delirious with heat, the cough rattling his ribcage like a windstorm. Black ooze and stinging stomach acid clawed up his throat and sent him wheezing for air, he couldn’t even keep water down, and anyone’s touch was like ice against his feverish skin. That week was full of misery and tears, soft linens and cool compresses, an unending sour taste and smears of purple-black that made Milo wretch all the harder when he saw them. When the sickness had passed, he was allowed a few days to recover before they started picking at him again. But they were less frequent about opening him up again. ——— Muscles seized in pain and tears were speckled across the uncomfortable pleather of the exam table.  Milo’s cries had long since petered out but he still made strangled, pathetic, hiccupping noises that were muffled by his muzzle. His arms were stretched out on either side of him, his raw and throbbing chest pressed into the table, strapped down securely so he couldn’t get away. Not that he’d get very far if he tried, not with the armed guards that followed him around these days. Sharp lances of stinging pain made him spasm and groan, pushing his forehead into the sweat and tear soaked table underneath him. The swipe of fabric over his aching right shoulder made him hiss. The buzz of the tattoo needle droned in his ears, steady and constant and awful. He didn’t need to see it to know what they were branding into his skin. 0-1A Nothing more than an object with its owners name written on it in permanent ink.

——— Milo could sense the tension building in the Facility. He didn’t know what it was causing it and no one really talked to him anymore. There were a lot of big words being tossed around, people in suits bustling around the pristine white corridors and hissing at one another. He watched them with narrowed eyes and they looked back at him in disgust. He flipped them off a couple of times and they looked suitably mortified. They all gave him a wide berth, regardless of the muzzle and the guards and his clearly weakened state. But one of them still yelped in fright when he rattled his IV pole at her. ——— He was puttying around his room, leaning heavily on his wheeled IV pole as he paced the perimeter, working off the stress of the day’s testing before bedtime. The hydraulic door opening made him jump and freeze in place, a shiver running down his spine as his brain instantly flashed to the worst possible scenarios. He’d done something wrong, he’d mad someone angry, they needed to redo a test, they needed to open him again, they needed to take his organs out and—

A man in a suit stood in the doorway, looking disgruntled and maybe not a little put off. He was flanked by two guards and Milo immediately bristled at the sight of them on principle alone. Milo’s grip on the IV pole tightened and he slowly inched closer, eyes narrowed, puffing heated breaths against the muzzle to make his agitation clear. The suit tensed but didn’t move.

“You’re being moved to a new location,” Said the man in a voice that made Milo want to punch him in the face, “You will cooperate or—“

A shout down the hall interrupted him and he and the guards turned to look. A look Milo didn’t understand flashed across the man’s features and he barked some orders at the guards. Milo slunk closer, clutching at the pole, suspicion prickling over his skin.

More shouting. The guards left the doorway, heading towards the left. A few moments later, the suit took off in the opposite direction.

He didn’t close the door.

Milo’s breath caught in his throat.

For a second, he swore he saw heavenly light shining on the open doorway, heard a choir of angels singing.

He stared at it.

Then he gritted his teeth and ran.

Running hurt, it jarred his bones and sank meathooks into his weary muscles, dragged his lungs and jarred his damaged chest with painful shocks. He wasn’t even sure if you could call what he was doing running, leaning as heavily as he was on the IV stand, tripping over his own feet, over the shaky wheels of the pole, rasping for breath through the muzzle still strapped to his face.

He didn’t know where he was going, he just knew he had to go.

It was a chance and he’d be a fool not to take it.

Then he rounded a corner and his blood ran cold because there were people clustered in the hall. Adults. In the Facility. He could pick out the guards and doctors, all of them shouting and gesturing. He thought he saw police officers. Or maybe army? Army wore camouflage, right?

Milo’s legs twitched. He wanted to turn and run the other way but something…something made him pause.

This wasn’t the usual hysteria of the Facility. This was different. Something crackled in the air, a spark, a flicker of something that might have been hope a long time ago.

He was still standing there, brow furrowed, when one of the doctors caught sight of him,

“Fuck! How did it—grab it! It’s out of its room!”

Milo backpedaled, ready to turn and run, but a furious roar made him freeze in terror. It was a sound of such rage and passion that it drove iron nails into his feet and made his knees lock. The bag hanging from the IV pole rattled as his hands shook.

A large shape suddenly exploded through the group of guards and doctors and law enforcement. It punched the doctor who had shouted in the face and knocked her to the floor with a snarl. Then the man looked up, looked down the hall, and saw Milo. Instantly, all the hard edges and angry angles melted out of his body, tears welled into his eyes, and he staggered on his feet, something like grief and happiness and horror all written across his features.

It took Milo far longer than he would ever admit to recognize who it was.

“Milo!”

Dan shouting his name—his real name—shattered him. Milo let out a cry that was swallowed by the stupid muzzle and launched himself forward, one hand on the IV pole and the other clawing desperately towards his dad. Dan ran to meet him, skidding across the tile floor on his knees when he drew near. The man hesitated, arms wide to wrap Milo up, but his eyes darted over the wretched staples on Milo’s narrow chest, over the fragile looking frame, and he hesitated.

Milo did not. He threw himself into Dan’s arms with a broken sob, pressing his muzzled face into the man’s chest, shaking fingers curled as tightly as possible into the soft fabric of Dan’s shirt. And Dan hugged him back. Warmth and safety wrapped around Milo and he sobbed, sagging in his dad’s arms, breath hitching, his legs nearly giving out from underneath him at such affection.

“Jake! Jake, it’s Milo! Jake! It’s him! We got him! We got him back! It’s him!” Dan was crying, his voice shaking, and Milo looked up to see—

Jake tripped his way through the crowd, his eyes wide, looking more drawn and tired than ever before. His chest hitched and he pressed a hand over his mouth. Milo whimpered and reached a hand over Dan’s shoulder. Jake broke. Tears flooded down his face and ran to join them, nearly toppling over when he dropped down beside Dan to hug the little boy still in the man’s arms. Jake’s shaky fingers ran through Milo’s hair, snagged on the muzzle, and he let out a wavering cry that was part anger and part pain and all parts love and grief and happiness.

Milo cried. He cried harder than he had his entire time in the Facility, grabbing at both men, afraid to let them go for even a second.

He felt fingers scrabbling at the back of his head and jerked in fight only to realize it was Dan, wrenching at the buckles with an almost inhuman strength. They snapped and Jake helped Dan pull the damned thing off, throwing it across the floor with a venom that Milo had never seen before.

“Milo!” Jake sounded like he was about to hyperventilate, breathing so hard and fast, tears streaming uncheck down his face. He cupped Milo’s face in his hands, the pads of his thumbs rubbing gently at the deep circles under the boy’s eyes, “Milo, my god, I thought you—we fought to get you back so hard and—if you hadn’t sent those messages—Milo, my brave boy, Milo! You’re so brave, Milo!” Jake’s words dissolved into gross sobbing and he clutched Milo to him, body shaking with emotion. Dan wrapped them both up in his arms, tears dampening Milo’s skin as he cried, rocking them back and forth.

Milo gasped through his tears, only on his feet because of the support of the people who had fought tooth and claw for him. He drew in a shaky, sniffling breath and said, “I knew you’d come for me. I—I knew you would. I miss—I missed you so much. Dad…d-daddy! Dh-d-dad!”

And he broke down into a fresh wave of tears.

———

Milo didn’t ask what happened.

He didn’t care. Didn’t want to know.

Even as Dan carried Milo out of the Facility in his arms, Jake clinging tightly to Milo’s hand, escorted by a dozen or so soldier, Milo didn’t care.

He didn’t care about the camera flashes and the news reporters shouting. He didn’t care about the cold autumn air that made him shiver as he curled against the warm chest of his dad. He didn’t care about his old hoodie, lost somewhere in the depths of the Facility. He didn’t care about how weak he felt or how tired he was or how every inch of him ached. He didn’t care about what had happened or what would happen.

They would cross those bridges when they got to them.

All Milo cared about in that moment was the smell of fresh, crisp, clean, unfiltered stale air. All he cared about was the bright and wonderful glow of sunlight and the way it danced over the shapes around him. All he cared about was the warmth and love and safety of the arms around him, of the hand in his, of the gentle reassurances and tender kisses and tear-filled smiles.

All Milo Pierly-Fuller cared about was that he was finally home.

#art tag #fics #bend until you break #bummers #mico #milo