Disclaimer: These characters are mine. My own. My precioussss...um...es.

A/N: Another fic for the bodyandsoul100; this one using 'Purple' as the prompt.

Redemptive Violence

"For heaven's sake, Michael," Paul made a light 'tsk' noise with his tongue, brushing his husband's hair away from his forehead. "Sometimes I don't think you know how to use your brain."

At least he'd gotten him calmed down now; that was a blessing. The look on Michael's face, even without the hand pressed to his nose and the blood streaming down his chin, scared Robbie enough that he had started to cry, and then Paul had to work at making both his husband and his son stop freaking out.

Michael just made a noise that could have either been a snort or a sniffle; it was clogged with blood and came out rather like a snork. "I need more Kleenex," he said; it sounded more like 'I deed bore Gleenegs" but Paul couldn't laugh.

"No problem," Paul obliged, then, seeing that the murderous light had indeed faded from Michael's eyes, sat down on the other's lap. Michael held the tissue to his nose, wrapped the other arm around Paul's waist, and rested his forehead against his shoulder. Paul dropped out of scolding wife mode and stroked his back. "I still say you should let me call someone."

"I started it," Michael sighed. "I would've been the one charged."

"You were provoked," Paul kissed his temple.

"He didn't know. And I shouldn't have hit him."

"No, sweetheart, you shouldn't," Paul nuzzled Michael's neck, then glanced over to make sure Robbie was still asleep. "But since you're not usually in the habit of attacking men who are much larger and stronger than you I don't think I need to give you the speech on being the better man and just walking away."

Michael took the Kleenex away and held Paul with both arms now, nestling his face in the crook of the brunette's neck. Paul shifted to a more comfortable position. "You didn't hear what he said," Michael mumbled, almost plaintively.

Running one hand up and down Michael's side, Paul shook his head. "No. But I take it that's a good thing."

He'd come to pick Michael up from work that afternoon; Paul noticed the curl of lip on one of Michael's coworkers' faces, but had ignored it because he got that all the time. What he hadn't expected was to see Michael launch himself at the man, only to receive a hard blow to the face himself.

"Yeah," Michael's voice was dark. "It was so stupid, and ignorant, too. Something about you wearing a dress, and you being confused or something, and that whoever's dating you should just stop kidding themselves and date a real woman instead of someone just pretending to be one."

Nice. Ignorant, yes, but nothing Paul hadn't heard before, both from laughing straight men and disdainful straight-acting gay ones, and several women. Nothing that, had it been said to his face, he couldn't have handled with an eye-roll or two. "Oh, Michael," he played with the short hairs at the base of Michael's skull, "I've heard worse, and so have you. If they'd said that about you, would you have hit them?"

"No," Michael ducked his head again, "But I couldn't just let him talk that way about you. I love you and I love you the way you are, and what was I supposed to do? Stand there and let some moron blabber on as if he knew you?"

Paul's mouth quirked and he felt warm fuzzies in spite of himself. "Let's never mind what you should have done, okay? But you don't need to defend me from stupid people like that. Not when you lost your job over it and could have gotten charged with assault or something."

"And my nose broken."

"Yes, and your 'dose' broken," Paul sat up, tracing his fingers across Michael's cheekbones and wincing at the mess of swollen purple that was his husband's olfactory organ. "Are you sure I can't get you some ice or something?"

Michael shook his head. 'It's okay. I'm just really mad about the whole thing."

Paul nodded; he'd seen this before several times with his own family. Somehow, taunts and insults seemed much graver when directed at loved ones rather than at oneself, and walking away was that much harder when preserving someone else's honour. "If it's any consolation, even if it was stupid, I love you for trying."

"Even though I can't fight and I shouldn't have done it in the first place?"

"Honey," Paul dropped a kiss on Michael's cheek, "I almost leapt the counter and pummelled him myself when he hit you."

Michael's eyes widened; Paul wondered if he was imagining the scene. "Someone would have called the cops for sure, then."

"If the baby hadn't been in the car, I might have," Paul mused, and his stomach tightened in anger when he recalled the sight of the man's fist crashing into Michael's nose. "Punched him, I mean, not called the police. Sometimes this whole not sanctioning redemptive violence is more trouble than it's worth."

Michael shrugged. "I'm still sorry. And I'm sorry I made Robbie cry."

"You sure frightened him," Paul admitted, remembering the bug-eyed terror on the infant's face. "I think it's just because he's never seen you angry before. He's fine now."

"Let's hope he doesn't ever again," Michael ran one hand through his hair, his arm shaking. "I hit that guy before I even realized what I was doing. You don't think I got my father's temper, do you?"

Paul thought back to a few occasions, on one of which he'd been genuinely terrified, and grimaced. "We both know you have a temper, Michael. But I think you can control yours. Just because you decked an idiot cappuccino man in a coffee shop doesn't mean you're going to turn on Robbie or me."

"I just want to protect you," Michael said, tightening his hold. "I know it's stupid, but I do."

"Well, I'm honoured to have it," Paul told him, and it was true.

"Even if you don't need it."

Paul didn't like the self-deprecating tone Michael adopted there, and he cut him off with a harsh kiss — or as hard as he dared while being careful of the other's 'dose', anyway. "Don't start with that. You don't need a skirt-wearing man giving rude people at clubs tongue lashings in a high-pitched voice either, but you've got him. And when Robbie's older, he's going to want to fight for us, too, I'm sure."

Michael said nothing. Paul frowned and poked him. "C'mon, stop it. I love you; now stop moping."

Michael just shrugged again, and Paul decided to let him be. Michael, like his best friend, had a problem with sulking, and both Pete and Michael snapped when pushed too far even if they didn't mean it.

"What this really proved is that you're a better man than I am," Paul said after a while, lacing their fingers. "If I'd been in your position, I mean."

"You mean you wouldn't have defended me?" he could practically hear Michael's eyebrows creeping up with disbelief. "I've seen you when you're angry; I'm not sure I can believe that."

"Oh, I would have," Paul grinned, "But I'd have gone for the crotch."

Finally, Michael laughed. The redhead caught Paul around the waist, one hand sliding up to cup behind his head, and pulled him down for a long kiss.