Don't Judge (Nothing Special 4)

“I said I was good,” Michaels murmured, still fingering through the file of a new case they were working on. He’d been home for two days with nothing to do but get angrier. Every time he thought of Judge or Switch, that whole damn catastrophe, he saw red. His apartment was destroyed, he was sick of going to the gun range, Charlie had banned him from the gym for now until “he fixed his attitude,” and he couldn’t bear to be around his parents, either. His mother would coddle him and his father would continuously probe him for information.

“I didn’t ask if you were good. You’re still on medical leave,” God said, more sternly.

“Fine, then. I’ll stay out of the field and just update the case files.” Michaels booted up his computer, prepared to do data entry all day if he had to. Anything not to sit at home in his apartment and run through his final conversation with Judge.

God reached over, yanked the power cord out of his laptop, and threw it on his desk. “I said. Home. Medical. Now.”

Michaels finally looked up and noticed that not only was God towering over him, but Day was also standing close, watching him like he was an experiment going wrong. Most of their team was in the office doing research but no one was focused on that… only on him. Why was everyone watching him? He knew he looked like hell. His hair was all over the place, he hadn’t shaved, his shirt was half-untucked from his jeans, he’d taken a shower, but he was pretty sure all the alcohol he’d consumed the night before in order to fall asleep more like pass out, really was probably seeping through his pores. The ugly black stitches in the gash on the right side of his face looked almost as hideous as the multitude of green and yellow bruises. He was still very sore from his bruised ribs, but he made sure not to flinch when he stood from his desk. Again, all eyes tracked his every move.

“What the fuck is everyone looking at? Turn around and do some goddamn work!” Michaels yelled, while shoving his laptop into his bag.

Day walked up to him, but he cut him off before he could go into his psychoanalysis. “Keep the shit, Day,” Michaels barked.

“Hey! Enough!” God yelled right back, his voice going deeper and scarier. But Michaels didn’t give a damn at that point.

“Fuck you,” Michaels snarled, and looked up at his Lieutenant, registering the shock on God’s face right before the anger.

God stepped in closer to Michaels, his posture was intimidating, but Michaels wasn’t fazed. His skin was starting to burn, his vision turning a haze of shades of red. He couldn’t stop the way his hands shook, so he balled up his fists instead, his fingernails biting into his palms.

“God,” Day hissed, but his partner ignored him.

“That’s it. You’re suspended,” God ordered.

“What?!” Michaels snapped. “What the fuck for?!”

“Cash don’t.” Day touched God’s shoulder, but was quickly shrugged off.

“You’ve been a damn mess ever since you completed your assignment with Judge. So if you wanna self-destruct, do it in someone else’s department. What happened to you out—”

Michaels yanked his jacket off the back of his chair, cutting God off, ready to get the hell out of there. He didn’t give a fuck if his boss was still speaking or not. But he sure as shit didn’t want to talk about Judge. Didn’t even want to hear his name. “I’m outta here.”

God grabbed Michaels’ shoulder and a jolt of what felt like a thousand watts of electricity zapped his chest. He balled his fist as tight as he could, spun around and punched God square in his stern jaw. He saw God’s head snap to the right just before he turned back and glowered at him with venom in his wicked green eyes.

There were a collection of curses and panicked “oh shits” from his team as they moved closer, probably feeling like it was going to take all of them to get God off him. Day jumped in front of God and placed his hands on his chest. God was still; his only movement was his jaw twitching with his ire. Michaels knew that the fight he’d had with Switch would be like going toe-to-toe with a cartoon character compared to what God could do to him. Michaels still maintained eye contact, challenging his Lieutenant for no apparent reason other than his obvious death wish.

“Cash, don’t hurt him, please. Let me talk to him.” Day looked up into his partner’s eyes. Although he wasn’t afraid of God right now, he wasn’t exactly unhappy that Day was standing between them. “Cash, can’t you see something isn’t right?”

God looked down at his lover, the two of them staring at each other for several very long, tense seconds. No one could ever figure out what transpired between God and Day when they communicated like that, but sure enough it looked as if Day had told him something pertinent. God’s vibrant green eyes softened, looking into Day’s before he turned without a word and walked out of the office, Syn right behind him.