Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mike Crew is supposed to be dead.

That was what Daisy told you, when you came running down the hall to the cupboard she currently inhabited. Yes, he died. Yes, she shot him in the head and buried him in some secret place outside the city. Basira confirmed it as well, Mike Crew was dead and gone, she helped hide the body after all. And if Jon was here, he would say the same thing.

Thankfully though, Jon was currently having a trip around the world, looking for some clues regarding the Stranger's ritual, otherwise you don't know how things would have turned out. Because right now, there is a man standing before you, his bony elbow placed on your desk right next to some important statements. And this man, at least according to what he told you, is Michael Crew. The Michael Crew, lightning scar and all.

There is a polite smile on his face as he regards you with the bluest eyes you've ever seen. His fingers drum on the wood. A moment of silence passes between both of you, as you think over his words, after he introduces himself. You just look at him for a second, blinking slowly. And then, you shrug. After all the things you've seen and heard, some undead man in your office really isn't the weirdest occurrence. To be honest, he's not even in the top five. 

So, you make a small "huh" and ask him politely about what exactly is he looking for.

- The Archivist, of course - he answers, the same smile suddenly becoming just a tad too sinister.

He looks harmless enough in his blue jumper and combed hair. To be honest, he looks normal. It's hard to imagine that this proper lad could be anything dangerous in any way, shape or form. 

- Well, that is unfortunate - you say, mirroring his politeness, remembering that you are speaking to an avatar of some cosmic entity, or whatever Jon called them. 

- Jon is not present right now and, I'm not sure when he will be coming back - you inform, searching for any changes in the man's behaviour, ready to bolt out of the office.

Mike Crew nods slightly, disappointment clear on his handsome features, as a slight frown pulls down his lips. A sigh escapes him, and he rummages through his jeans pocket, pulling out one, slightly bended cigarette and a lighter. 

For a split-second you have the urge to tell him, that smoking in the Archives is strictly forbidden, but then, you remember that you don't really give a single fuck about any of those statements. It's not like your all-knowing boss can fire you. 

Mike extends his hand towards you, the lit cigarette hanging loosely between his pointer and middle finger. The gesture makes you smile, but you shake your head.

- I don't smoke, but thanks.

That seems to amuse him, as he takes a long drag, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of your face, for which you are grateful. 

- One would think everyone in here is a chain smoker - he muses, looking around the room, his gaze swiping around boxes upon boxes of documents 

- With your work conditions and all that jazz...

You laugh quietly, hanging your head and nodding. He has a point. 

After the big reveal of the exact rules of your job, all of the Archival staff took the news differently. Melanie became consumed by hatred, and even though you considered your relationship to be friendly, you had to admit, the anger boiling inside her made you watch your words for anything that could possibly set her off. Which was a lot.

Basira and Martin seemed to deal with the situation the best, simply doing their own things. Tim on the other hand became bitter and cold. Something that kept breaking your heart, as you could still remember him joking around, making life just a bit more pleasant.

And then there were you, down to mayhem at any moment, but still sitting behind your desk like nothing happened. Ignoring the whole matter seemed to work for you quite well, even if you couldn't bring yourself to talk to your boss without a strong wave of nausea... 

So yes, your current "work conditions" were stressful and uncomfortable, and more often than not they made you feel like screaming into the void (not the Void, mind you, otherwise this conversation would be on another level of awkwardness). But hey, at least the bills were paid. You think...

- Oh, nah - you laugh again - I have much better ways of dealing with stress.

Crew turns to you with a curious look, eyebrows raised and blue eyes bright in the warm light of the office.

- Do tell.

- Rivers, upon rivers of alcohol and black tar heroin.

There is a beat of silence between you two, for the hundredth time today, as Mike stares at your deadpan expression, shocked amusement painted on his handsome features. And then, he laughs.

It's a soft, airy sound that seems entirely too gentle to be shared between total strangers, especially in such complicated relation. You can feel the blood rushing to your face, where it settles into a blush. Right at that moment you finally catch a good look of him, taking in his slender figure and with a start you realize that he is, in fact, quite pretty. For a fear avatar that is.

It strikes you how much at ease he seems to be in this domain of the Eye (or whatever it's called, you really, really don't want to know). He's leaning slightly on your desk, cigarette between his bony fingers and that mysterious, gentle smile plastered on his infuriatingly handsome face. 

But it's his eyes that are the most beautiful. They are blue, the clearest, most vibrant shade you've ever seen on a human. They look just like a cloudless sky somewhere in the countryside, where the fumes haven't polluted the air yet. There is a light glow to them, or at least you think there is. And it fills you with unexplained attraction and excitement, like a silhouette of a roller coaster from afar.

If he felt your staring, he says nothing, smile still lingering, as he continues to smoke in your office, the sharp smell of cigarettes filling the entire room, mingling with a faint scent of ozone that seems to follow the man wherever he goes. You are also quite sure the fire alarm should be going wild, but alas, it doesn't, so you decide not to question it.

- When do you end your shift? - Mike asks suddenly, his eyes sweeping over the desk before finally settling on you.

It takes you while to respond, because you can practically feel his gaze pinning you in place, the intensity stunning you for a moment. Danger. Your body seems to be screaming at you, in that one moment you suddenly remember that this is a very, very dangerous man. Someone who disappeared a man from some tower in Paris, someone who survived being shot in the head and buried in the woods. Someone, who could probably kill you with one gesture (or make you wish you were dead, you never know with those type of people).

- Four - you answer, voice slightly out of breath before you can find your composure - Why?

Mike shrugs, the movement exposing the scar on the side of his neck for just a second. White lines climb up and down his skin, disappearing under the collar. He reaches for a piece of paper right in front of you (it's a statement), grabs a nearby pen and starts to write something down with blue ink. You almost reach out to grab the pen, to stop him, but you catch yourself and just wait patiently, until he finishes writing. 

Finally, he puts the pen down and slides the paper towards you. You give him your best "angry archival staff" look and glance at the note. There, in elegant lettering, is an address you immediately recognize as a coffee shop just in front of the Institute. Sometimes, when you feel like it, you drop in for a breakfast before the job. They have the best cheesecake in the whole area and you are ready to fight anyone who says otherwise. 

Looking up at the man, you give him a confused look. He answers with a grin and another shrug.

- Meet me outside after work, for a coffee and a chat - he offers, his amusement growing with your confusion. 

Blinking a few times, you fight the urge to pinch yourself, to be sure this isn't some very weird hallucination. But alas, this particular fear avatar just offered you a date, or a meeting of sorts. And you are going to say yes, because you've been lonely for far too long, and he is pretty. And life is already so goddamn weird. So, you nod, muscles still tense, ready to run at any moment, but Mike smiles widely, teeth showing on full display, and there is an awkwardness to him that you find endearing, when he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. Is this blush you see dusting his cheeks? At this point you cannot tell for sure in the warm glow of the office everything seems to be warmer. 

- Okay - you mutter, a goofy smile spreading across your lips - But why? 

You start to associate him with shrugging. He takes another long drag from his cigarette and gives you a wink that almost melts you into a puddle on the spot. And then he turns to leave, feet carrying him right to the door, before he stops, turning back to you. 

- I like your hair - he says, waves and exits, leaving you completely stunned and red in the face. 

Stealing a glance at the clock, you can feel a familiar feeling of anticipation building up in your stomach. Well... No risk, no fun, right?

Chapter Text

The bitter taste of coffee makes everything around you slow down for a moment, as the first, blessed touches of caffeine wake your brain up. The hustle and bustle of the streets outside the cafe seems to dull down, like the entire universe is granting you this pleasure, no distractions in sight... Well... Almost no distractions. 

As you open your eyes open and look from above the cup, they fall onto a familiar man, very much alive, despite what you've been assured of by two fellow members of the Archive's. You even called Jon to confirm that yes, the man in front of you is supposed to be absolutely, undeniably dead. But, he isn't.

Mike Crew is smiling, his eyes seem to twinkle in the warm cafe lights. He's holding his small cup of espresso, his pinky finger raised slightly, like he just walked out of "Downton Abbey". He looks to be in his element, sitting in a relaxed manner, leaning heavily against his comfy chair, free hand placed on the table, bony fingers tapping lightly on the surface. 

In comparison to him, you must look like a spitting image of stress. The coffee helped, of course, but you still kept your hands close to your chest, guarded and cautious. Even in the domestic light, you remember who is sitting in front of you, no matter how harmless he looks. Theoretically dead, very dangerous servant of Fear itself. And you're drinking coffee... Together.

He takes in your appearance, eyes slowly dragging up and down your body. It's not like you've changed in the couple of hours since you've last talked. Maybe your hair got a bit more dishevelled, maybe the circles under your eyes got deeper. You can see his delicate smile morph into a sharper smirk, as he takes another sip from his cup and finally sets it down on the table.

- Are you scared of me? - he asks, voice calm and gentle, like he's talking to a wounded wild animal.

That's a very good question, actually. Were you scared? You think about it for a second, eyebrows furrowing and a slight frown forming on your lips. By all means, you should be scared. It would be the logical thing to do, given who he was, what he did. At any time during this meeting he can throw you off a building into an endless pit, where you'll fall for an eternity. Or just land with a splash of bones and blood. You honestly don't know which of these scenarios is worse. And even if you overlook the whole fear thing, he is supposed to be dead, for God's sake. In the ground, buried with a hole in his head, where Daisy shot him. And yet...

- Is there a good answer to that question? - you ask him instead and watch with hidden satisfaction, as he laughs slightly, before scratching his neck.

- I suppose not - Mike huffs and shrugs, a familiar gesture that slowly starts to put you at ease - But, if you are scared, you should know that I invited you for coffee as a normal person, not as an... Well an Entity.

You lean forward, placing both hands on the table, before looking him in the eye with a mischievous smirk.

- That's exactly what an Entity would say.

Mike Crew lets out a sigh of exasperation, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. It makes you laugh, all your defences coming apart. Both of you relax back into your seats, an air of comfort suddenly between the two of you. When the conversation finally gets going, it feels natural, like talking to an old friend.

He asks you questions, about your family, your interests, your life, conveniently ignoring your place of work and all things connected to it. You respond in kind, omitting any questions about the Vast, or any fear-related subject for that matter. It feels nice, like two normal people sharing a coffee and a chat in the middle of a busy day. 

Although you never voiced it, you wondered whether Mike missed being human, just plain old human. Did he miss eating cake instead of people's nightmares? From the way he was smiling at you, while talking about some book he was currently reading (not a Leitner, thankfully), you gathered that yes, he liked the traces of humanity still left in him, Why else would he even invite you here? If he wanted you dead, why waste time? Right?

- Have you ever been to the London Eye? - he asks suddenly, and immediately you feel a wave of uneasiness coming over you.

It takes you a while to respond, as you measure your words carefully.

- No, I've never been on it.

His eyebrows shoot up, a surprised expression settling on his handsome features.

- Really? You live in London and you've never seen it from above?

You shrug awkwardly, folding into yourself, crossed arms giving you some resemblance of comfort. 

- I don't know - you start to babble, before you can stop yourself - It just feels so tourist-like, and I just don't really like the city that much...

Mike notices the immediate change. Slowly, he reaches over the table and touches your arm. The contact makes you jump, as a gasp pushes past your lips. You expect to be teleported into the sky, thrown off a plane or something. Instead, all you can feel is the warmth of his hand on your exposed skin. It's surprisingly grounding, in an ironic sort of way. 

You look up at him, and the only thing you can see on his face is concern. Nothing sinister hiding in those hypnotic eyes, waiting to strike. His eyes are shining in the warm light, the impossible blue pulling you in. For a moment you stare in wonder at the infinite ocean behind his pupils.

- I'm not here to hurt you - he ensures with a quiet voice - This is not a trick.

The genuine expression coupled with his touch and steady voice make you believe him, for better or worse. You let out a shaky breath, mortified at how scared you suddenly became.

- I'm sorry - you mutter, when he retracts his hand, the warmth leaving with him.

- Don't worry, I can understand that this is a bit... - he pauses in search of the right word - Unusual.

You laugh at that, nodding your head. Yeah, unusual is definitely one way to describe this situation.

- But, to be completely honest, I would love to take you on the London Eye sometime, when you're less jumpy - he admits, the offer hanging in the air.

"Sometime". So, he thinks there is going to be more of this. After a second of consideration, you discover that you're not exactly opposed to the idea.

- Can we start with something, you know, shorter? - the question makes him smile, and he nods contently.

There is a moment of silence, before a slow smirk blooms onto his features. His eyes lit up suddenly with a glint of playfulness, that makes the butterflies in your stomach do a somersault. Mike leans forward, so close you cal feel his breath on your chin. It's surprisingly cold and your entire body freezes in place, feeling hypnotized by his proximity.

- What do you say, instead of the London Eye, I take you somewhere different? - he asks, voice low, sounding almost like a purr.

The question feels somewhat seductive, dangerous in the best way possible, and you can almost visualize your better judgement flying out of the window.

- Where? - you try to pray the blush away from your cheeks.

His smile grows wider, a set of white teeth peeking through, as he grabs your attention and holds it in a steel embrace.

- It's a surprise, you'll have to trust me.

Now, you're not stupid. You know you should never, under any circumstances trust this impossible man, especially when he wants you to, asking for it in a way that makes you shiver with anticipation. But, you really, really want to. Curiosity nips away at your brain, making you squirm in your seat.

Mike Crew extends his hand towards you. His elbows placed on the table next to the abandoned coffee cup. His palm turned upwards looks so inviting, the memory of his warm touch from before seems to push you forward, crave another contact.

- Don't hurt me - you plead, disappointed in yourself, for how uncertain your voice sounds.

- Never - he promises and that's all you need.

You place your palm in his, and the moment you feel his skin, the entire world is rushing past you. Closing your eyes, a high-pitched scream escapes your lips, as a familiar feeling of falling overtakes your senses. The ground slips from under your feet, cold air surrounds you and you feel nothing, except for the hand in your grasp. Your fingers cling to him, nails digging into the soft flesh and somewhere in front of you, you hear a hiss of pain.

And then, your body is being pushed against a warm chest, two arms encircling you in an embrace. It should feel nice, but all you can focus on is that there is no fucking ground under your feet.

- It's alright, you can open your eyes - Mike Crew reassures in a soft voice.

- What the fuck? - you breathe out, the scent of his cologne mixed with a strong smell of ozone filling your senses - Where are we? 

- Open your eyes and see for yourself.

There is a trace of barely contained amusement in his voice and it makes you want to punch him.

Instead of doing that, slowly, you start to open your eyes, one at a time. At first all you can see is a signature, blue jumper. The fabric looks even softer up close. Then, you turn your head ever so slightly and your heart stops in your chest. A give out a small whimper and push yourself even closer to him, fingers closing on the front of his shirt in a vice-like grip. You can feel the vibration of his chuckle under your palm.

You are both in the air, somewhere outside the city. In all directions you are surrounded by endless plains and small patched of forests. A river cuts through the scenery like a shining ribbon. If you weren't scared shitless right now, the sight would be absolutely breathtaking.

- You can relax, I won't let you fall - he promises, and you dully note, that you would be more inclined to believe him, if your feet weren't dangling God knows how high in the air.

- I come here sometimes, to think and watch the sunset - Mike sounds lost in thought, as he stares ahead, blue eyes peeled, shielded from the light by long eyelashes. - It's quite relaxing.

- Do you always take your dates out into the fucking sky? - you really meant for it to sound meaner, but your voice can only manage a breathless whisper.

And airy, light laugh escapes him, as his arms shift around you slight, the sudden movement makes you squeal. You risk a glance at his face. Normally, you two would be the same height, however now, he's hovering slightly above you.

- Oh, so you are my date? - the playful smirk doesn't escape you, and all you can manage in response is a roll of your eyes.

- COme on, turn around, or you'll miss the best part - he encourages you, arms sliding from your back to your shoulders, where he starts to slowly guide you to turn.

You expect to fall at any moment, to start plummeting towards the lovely scenery below, but alas nothing happens. You body seems to glide through air, as you face the sun, warm light blinding you for a second.

Mike Crew slides his arms around you, your back being pushed against his chest. His head rests on your right shoulder. From the corner of your eye you can see him smiling. A sigh of content escapes his lips, pushing some of your hair to the front.

The sky is a gradient of colors, that you can never see while living in a big city. The sun is almost completely gone, the last rays painting everything in different hues of oranges, reds and pinks. Far aboce the stars start to gather, the oncoming night descending onto the world like a thick blanket. It's beautiful. Simply beautiful. 

Not one human in sight. Except for the Fear Avatar and his date, hovering over the land in a calm embrace.

- What do you think? - his voice is just above a whisper, prompting an army of shivers to run through your body.

- That was amazing - you mutter, sincerily moved by the scenery before you.

- I'm glad you liked it.

Feeling slightly bold, you turn in the air to face him. He's close, closer than you would be comfortable with any other person. But right now you don't mind the contact, the warmth of his embrace keeping your senses from going into a full panic mode. His eyes are more enchanting than ever, all the colors of the sky mirrored in them. Little specs of light swirling inside like the stars above you. You can see yourself in his pupils and it almost makes you laugh out loud. 

Oh, the expression on your face is so utterly whipped, you should feel ashamed.

But then his gaze falls down to your lips. He looks at you, the question clear on his face and all you can do in response is smile. Which turns out to be the right answer, because suddenly he is kissing you, and your eyes flutter closed.

This is, without a shadow of a doubt, the best date you've ever been on.