A/N: Hi readers! Milo Murphy's Law may or may not have completely taken over my life, so here's a little fluffy Zilo one-shot. No romance yet, just Zack realizing he has feelings for Milo. Fluff with a side of angst, inspired by my love of Milo's singing. Cross-posted on AO3 and tumblr. Might be more of these to come, I've fallen in love with these two. Thanks for reading, and reviews are always greatly appreciated!

Enjoy! - Aqua

sing me back to shore

There's a lot Zack doesn't know about Milo.

He realizes this one day after school while they're studying at Milo's house. Melissa's away visiting family so they're alone, a somewhat uncommon occurrence.

Zack's splayed across Milo's bed, nose buried in a textbook, while Milo works at his desk.

It's peaceful, just existing together in contented silence. There aren't many moments like this, something Zack notes with a twinge of longing. Most of his time spent with Milo is full of excitement and adrenaline, and while that's appealing in its own way, it's not the same.

A faint noise draws Zack's attention away from his schoolwork, nulling the quiet. It's a soft humming sound; half-formed words, murmured in a lackadaisical melody, that drift around the room. The tone is pleasant, though unrecognizable, and it takes Zack a minute to locate the source.

"Hey, Milo?"

"Hmm?"

"Were you just singing?"

"What?" Milo glances up distractedly. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"No, no, it's okay," Zack says quickly, sitting up. "I- I didn't know you liked to sing."

Milo chuckles. "Yeah, well, as far as safe hobbies go, singing is pretty high up on the list, you know? Just you, and your voice, and the music… far less of a chance of ending up in the hospital," he says matter-of-factly. His brows crease. "Well, there was that one time, but it's not common."

Zack tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. "What type do you sing?" he asks.

"Oh, I've got kind of a weird sound," Milo waves a hand dismissively, turning back to his homework, "it's a mixture of jazz, electro-funk, and a little bit of country-rock influence… nothing anybody really likes to listen to. But that's not why I do it, anyways."

Humming noncommittedly, Zack swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his chin in his hands. "So what is it that you like about singing, then?"

Milo looks up at that, meeting Zack's eyes with a sort of bewildered curiosity. "Well… when you have a life like mine, you quickly learn that there are some things you just can't do- or shouldn't do, for the sake of everyone else. Sports, roller coasters, air travel… having friends." His voice grows wistful, his gaze far away, and Zack is suddenly struck by the urge to comfort him; to hold him close and tell him it was all going to be alright.

The thought comes out of nowhere and vanishes just as quickly, leaving Zack with an unfamiliar, cinching feeling in his stomach.

Milo doesn't seem to have noticed. "It's not that my condition stops me from having fun and enjoying life," he explains, spreading his hands. "If I was always worried about something going wrong, I'd never do anything." He frowns, his brows drawn together in a very stern, un-Milo-like expression that leaves Zack unsettled. "But I do have to be careful about what I do. There are some situations that are just too risky; too many things beyond my control, and too much of a chance of someone getting hurt. I can't be prepared for everything, and the more people involved, the less likely I'll be able to protect them all."

He pauses, sighing, and the troubled look on his face makes Zack's heart clench. Did Milo always carry this guilt with him? Zack can't imagine going through every day not only fearing his mere presence was going to cause calamity, but also feeling accountable for anyone who was hurt in the crossfire, even though the situation was beyond his control.

Zack wants to say something to reassure him, but after a moment, Milo's expression softens. When he speaks again, his voice is gentler, his eyes bright and earnest.

"But with singing," he says quietly, "it's different. It's the one thing I have where I feel like I can just let go and be myself, without hurting anyone. I can do what I want and be who I want without worrying about the repercussions. When every moment has the potential for disaster, singing is the only time I feel free."

"Wow," Zack breathes, feeling his cheeks flush.

The room fills with static, building and building until Zack thinks it'll swallow him. It's overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time, like plunging into deep water, and he gets the sudden notion that they've both stopped breathing.

Milo holds his gaze for a beat, the moment stretching out between them, before blinking and glancing away. He laughs weakly, a faint blush coloring his face, and rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble," he says, uncharacteristically shy.

Zack finds it kind of adorable. "It's okay, I don't mind," he promises, smiling warmly. "I think that's really amazing. I think you're amazing-" He pauses, suddenly uncertain.

Milo's watching him expectantly, the slightest hint of apprehension glimmering in his eyes.

Zack lips his lips nervously. "That is… I-"

Suddenly, there's an odd metallic sound, and four identical screws fly into the air. A second later, Milo's desk chair shudders and falls apart, dumping him heavily to the floor in a heap of limbs and miscellaneous chair parts.

"Whoa, are you okay?" Zack asks worriedly, dropping down from the bed.

Milo rubs the back of his head where it smacked into the floor. "I'm alright, no harm done," he says reassuringly. "This happens every now and then."

Raising an eyebrow, Zack crosses his arms. "What, so I guess you're used to it then?"

"Oh, yeah, this is nothing," Milo waves a hand, "in fact, one time I fell through the floor into the basement."

"No kidding?"

"Yep! Although, looking back, it was probably just a result of the African mound-building termites that were in the floorboards- did you know that they can build nests up to almost one hundred feet in diameter?"

Zack grins, offering a hand to pull Milo to his feet. "Now this I've got to hear."

And just like that, the spell is broken. The electricity in the air begins to dissipate, interrupted by the abrupt return to the familiar. They wade back into the relative safety of shallow water, but closer than they were when they left. Zack is torn between feeling disappointed and relieved; he isn't quite sure what to make of these new feelings for his friend, and he doesn't want to rush headlong into unfamiliar territory.

But if they linger for just a moment too long, their hands laced together and the faintest blush warming their faces…

Well.

There was hardly any harm in that, was there?