Title:
Description: "Chuck had told him to slow down. Chuck had told him to watch that curve but Mike hadn't listened. He'd taken it too fast and they'd gone over the edge, Mutt rolling and crashing and the sound of Chuck screaming and the tearing and crunching of metal assaulting his ears." Written for a fill on the kinkmeme, rating will go up in later chapters. Mike/Chuck, mature themes.
Pairing(s): Mike/Chuck
Word Count: -
Notes: Written for a prompt on the kink meme, but this fic is very un-kinky. Let's assume they're already together okay

I haven't really written much (quality…) fic like this, with tender near-death moments, so I hope that it's good enough.

If Mike has to describe what he's feeling right now with a single word, he doesn't think he'd be able to.

Maybe it would be panic, or fear. He's pretty goddamn afraid. But there's guilt, too, and a lot of it; clenching down on his chest like a giant hand. And with that guilt comes anger—at himself, at that stupid gang, and at the rest of the Burners for splitting off when he told them to stick together. Though really, he's mostly angry with himself. His impulsive, ignorant self.

(Chuck had told him to slow down. Chuck had told him to watch that curve oh my god Mikey you're going to fast no no stop slow down we're not going to make it MIKE OH MY GOD and Mike hadn't listened. He'd taken it too fast and they'd gone over the edge, Mutt rolling and crashing and the sound of Chuck screaming and the tearing and crunching of metal assaulting his ears. At least until he'd hit his head—then he didn't hear anything.)

And now they're trapped in this cave of rocks and debris, and Mike doesn't know where Chuck's gone or where they are. All he knows is that he's upside down, and the only thing keeping him from falling on his head is his seatbelt.

"Chuck?" he calls out, unbuckling himself and cushioning his landing with his arms. Mutt's wrecked, and it doesn't help that today was the one day Chuck was wearing the normal seatbelt instead of his usual octopus one. He was adding something to it—what exactly it was Mike wasn't quite to sure—and he didn't have time to re-install it before they left.

But Chuck's seat is empty, and there's a piece of glass the size of Mike's hand sticking out where Chuck's shoulder should have been. It's ripped the one strap that was holding Chuck in, and even in the gloom, Mike can see it's dark with blood.

"Chuck!" he yells, more desperate now, kicking out the bloodied mess that's left of the passenger-side window and scrambling out. He falls onto his side, letting out a frustrated groan when he feels something in his left arm flare up in pain, but pushes himself to his feet anyways.

Mutt's totaled. If Mike thought he could salvage her, he was wrong. She's nothing but a twisted heap of metal now, strewn across the small cave with her frame resting pathetically against the back wall. The wall that he's now almost pressed up against, now that he realizes it.

There's a cough, and Mike whips around. Chuck. He whips out his spark staff, lighting it up, and instantly the place is washed in the cool bluish light.

There. Pinned between the wall and what Mike thinks might be the torn remains of the back fender, Mike sees a bit of yellow against the cold gray of the metal and the bright green of Mutt's paint. With a shout he runs towards him, leaping over the obstacles in the way.

At first he's confused—Chuck has way more hair than what's visible. But as he gets closer and sees the dark sheen spread around his body, Mike's confusion turns to blinding panic.

"No," he gasps, falling beside Chuck. The blood soaks through the knees of his pants, but at this point he really doesn't care. He reaches out a hand to take Chuck's pulse, and almost lets out a cry of relief when he feels it there.

Mike stabs the staff into the ground, still using the other end for light, and carefully goes about examining Chuck. His left leg and lower torso are caught under fallen debris, and it's too dark for Mike to go about trying to dig him out.

"Julie!" he yells, hoping she'll read his signature. "Texas, Dutch, anyone! Someone help!"

Of course it won't work. They can't read them all the way from down in the cave; there's too much blocking the signal.

Mike curses at himself, and tries in vain to lift the back fender off of Chuck. But it's heavy, and there's too much stacked on top of it, and his efforts are in vain. With a yell he falls back, landing right beside Chuck once more.

The programmer stirs, reaching out a hand to rest against Mike's leg. His bangs, sticky with blood from a cut on his head, are at last out of his unfocused eyes, and Mike shudders when he sees real fear reflected in them. "Mikey?" he murmurs, trying to make sense of what's going on.

"Yes, Chuck," Mike answers, quickly scrambling over to take Chuck's hand. He drops beside him, not caring that now all his clothes are going to be stained with blood, and examines Chuck's physical state. He's probably broken a lot of bones—Mike knows he has; his elbow juts out and his collarbone seems to be in two pieces and Mike's sure that isn't even the start of his injuries—and he won't be getting up anytime soon.

"You…I told you to slow down."

Mike hasn't cried since he was a kid, and he's not about to now. He takes off his jacket and drapes it over Chuck, not quite able to fit it on properly with Chuck lying on his side, and Chuck lets out a hiss of pain. He's probably got broken ribs, too. "I know," Mike tells him, and he brushes away the rest of his hair from his face. "I should have listened to you. And I will. I'll never put you through that again."

Chuck's eyes sparkle in the dim light, and he closes them before Mike can read him properly. "I know."

In all the years Mike has known Chuck, he's never seen him this quiet. Hell, the guy is noisy even in his sleep. But now, as tears glisten on his face and his brows scrunch together in pain, he doesn't make a sound. And that terrifies Mike.

"We're going to get through this," Mike tells him. "And then we'll rebuild Mutt, and I'll find those goons and we'll take them down, and—"

"Mike," Chuck interrupts. His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, but it stops Mike in his tracks.

"Yeah, Chuckles?"

"Please don't leave."

Mike nods when Chuck's eyes open again, and he rips off his shirt to turn it into bandages. Chuck doesn't utter a word as Mike words, apart from the odd whimper if Mike's a little rough. By the end of it Mike sits back down, cradling Chuck's head in his lap, and presses a kiss to Chuck's forehead. "I won't leave if you don't."

Chuck smiles a little bit, but it doesn't last very long.

Instantly, Mike regrets his promise. If he stays here, no one will find them and Chuck will die—but if he leaves, something could happen and cause the same scenario. Maybe he'll wait until Chuck loses consciousness again and then go out once more.

It's right then that Chuck shudders, letting out a cry of pain as it jostles his broken bones, and Mike holds him closer. He needs to leave, he needs to leave right now and flag down Julie and Texas and Dutch because they're never going to find him otherwise.

But at the same time, he needs to stay here, with Chuck. For someone with nerves as sensitive as his, being trapped and alone with almost no light would be like a living nightmare. Mike wouldn't be able to live with himself if the last thing Chuck felt was fear.

He's still thinking, still weighing his options, when Chuck begins to cough. The movement is agonizing for him and he cries out, his eyes clenched shut against tears that make their way out anyways. Mike just holds him closer, knowing that he did this; that he's responsible.

The rasping noise that makes its way out of Chuck's lungs sends a cold shiver down Mike's spine. He needs to get up and leave, to flag down the others and get Chuck help. But he can't leave him here alone; he won't. Chuck will not die alone, soaked in his own blood in a cave in the middle of nowhere.

Mike knows they'll come for him. He just doesn't know when, or if they'll make it in time.

So instead of leaving, Mike just leans over and sets his head on Chuck's shoulder. If he said he didn't cry it would be a lie, but by the time Chuck's gone unconscious and Mike lifts his head up again Chuck's got no colour to his skin and Mike's out of tears. He didn't think that Chuck could have gotten paler, but he realizes that he was wrong.

Chuck isn't moving at all now, save his breathing, and Mike thinks he might scream. But he won't, for Chuck's sake.

So when he finally hears the roar of engines a few minutes later and the worried shouts of Julie and Dutch, Mike's heart skips a beat. He accidentally jostles Chuck, but the blonde is so far gone by now he doesn't make a noise in complaint.

As the three of them come in with flashlights, calling out to them, Mike calls back.

When they find them, Julie crying out in shock and Dutch rushing forward, Mike won't let go. Their words reach him but he can't hear, because Chuck's stopped breathing and Mike promised he wouldn't leave. Texas grabs hold of him and pulls him back. Dutch frees Chuck from the debris, and Julie pulls him out and performs mouth-to-mouth. Mike just shouts and thrashes, desperate to get out of Texas's clutches and over by Chuck's side.

So they let him ride home with Julie and Chuck, holding his friend's head steady in his lap the whole ride home and trying to ignore the fact that even with his hand over his heart, he can't feel Chuck's heartbeat anymore.