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skinsharpenedteeth · 4 years ago

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Coming Up Easy - First Sightings

I am *SO* sorry this is so hella late this week. It's been... a fucking week. CW: One mention of a homophobic slur.

You can also read this on AO3!

CUE - First Sightings

Unpacking boxes was not one of Alex’s favorite activities. He hadn’t had many when he’d moved because he hadn’t wanted to rent a truck or deal with shipping things, so the twelve boxes he’d been able to load into the late nineties Ford Explorer encompassed all his worldly possessions. He’d finally gotten a chance to start unpacking the miscellaneous boxes after a trip to Ikea for bookshelves, a bed, and a couch. Furthermore, he’d promised himself he’d explore his new city more and find second-hand shops for other household furniture and accessories, but the bookshelves would be enough to finally clear away the last of his unpacked boxes.

Alex opened the last box and looked inside. His heart softened a little as he saw the small shoebox of photographs he kept. Promising himself he’d look through it later, he unpacked the few other knick-knacks out of the box and took them to the bookshelves to start placing them. The box didn’t reenter his mind until after dinner when he found himself lounging across his new sofa with a cold beer in his hand. The box stared at him from the floor where he’d left it. Setting down his beer on the floor, he quickly got up and grabbed the box, and brought it back over to the couch. He flipped open the top and gingerly picked up the pile closest to him.

Michael and him in the desert with guitars. Liz, Max, Michael, and him at a church car wash. Michael, Kyle, and him all leaning against a bathroom wall in various stages of being phenomenally sick from drinking too much. Him and Michael hanging out at the UFO Emporium. Him and Michael eating pizza and playing video games at Max and Isobel’s. Him and Michael in college at a frat party. Him and Michael. Him and Michael. Him and Michael…

It hit Alex quite suddenly that basically since he and Michael had become friends they’d been fairly inseparable. They’d dated other people and had friends that the other didn’t like, but as a rule, it was always the two of them against the world and it had been since they were fifteen. He picked up his phone and snapped a photo of the photograph he held in his hand where they were sixteen, pimply, awkward, and bent over laughing outside the high school band room.

Me 8:46 p.m.>> Who the fuck are these dorks? <<Picture sent at 8:46 p.m.>> <<Michael 8:50 p.m.>> Holy shit, look at those nerds!! <<Michael 8:51 p.m.>> Though I gotta say, the emo one is pretty hot. If I were sixteen, I’d definitely have a crush on him. Me 8:52 p.m.>> You did not have a crush on me at 16! I was so tragic! <<Michael 8:53 p.m.>> You were not. You were fucking feral. You took exactly zero percent shit from anyone. It was hot as fuck. Me 8:55 p.m.>> You are definitely misremembering the amount of bullshit I put up with. <<Michael 9:00 p.m.>> Do you know what you were doing the first time I saw you?

Alex cast back in his memory. He remembered the first time he was aware of Michael, but not necessarily the first time Michael was aware of him. He always assumed it was at the same time.

Me 9:02 p.m.>> Uh? Scribbling emo song lyrics on my bio lab notebook? <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> Nope. <<Michael 9:03 p.m.>> You were having a fight with Kyle during gym because he tagged your gym shirt with the word “faggot” in pink sharpie.

“Mr. Manes, you cannot wear shirts with inappropriate text on them. This is the gym. White shirts only,” Coach Heim called at Alex as soon as he walked out of the locker room and started towards where the rest of the class was lounging in the middle of the basketball court. Alex could see Kyle elbowing his football buddies and smirking, barely containing their laughter. Alex felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and fury. He kept walking towards the group.

“MR. MANES! GO CHANGE YOUR SHIRT!” the coach yelled, putting more authority into his deep baritone. He was a fit, balding adult who generally was an alright guy, but Alex was swelling with indignation. He stopped a few feet away from the group so he didn’t have to yell to be heard.

“I don’t have another shirt, sir. This is my gym shirt,” Alex explained through clenched teeth. As the rest of the class got a good look at the words emblazoned across his chest and stomach, he heard them begin to snicker and giggle quietly.

“Well, you can’t wear that one. You’re smarter than this, Alex, why would you wear this out of the locker room?” the coach asked, not sounding unkind. He shot the gathered students a dirty look and they quieted their laughter.

“Because it’s all I had to wear and it’s not my fault it was defaced. Some pink-fingered fucking COWARD of a football player must’ve thought it’d be REAL FUNNY to break into my locker and--” Alex started, voice growing louder as he let the heat behind his cheeks infuse his voice.

“I did no such thing!” Kyle yelled, cutting in on Alex. Coach Heim looked over at him, eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe to tell Kyle to sit down, but as soon as Kyle stepped forward away from his buddies, Alex pounced. He landed the first hit on Kyle’s cheek, the meaty smack of their skin satisfying to him. Kyle shook it off and came at him. Before he knew it, they were rolling on the ground hitting each other as hard as they could in anyplace visible. The pain was nothing new for Alex and he kept his head clear as he tried to aim for spots that would hurt long after he was pulled off.

Too soon, arms were wrapped around his chest and a much bigger body than his was pulling him back and off of where he’d pinned Valenti to the ground. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, his ears still ringing with rage, but he could see the thin trickle of blood from Kyle’s split lip and he felt himself smile at the shock on everyone else’s face as they watched him get dragged back. He would not take Kyle’s shit this year. He would not take anyone’s shit.

Alex rubbed his fingers across his eyebrows and sighed deeply. He had been so ready to cause someone else pain by then. His dad had only gotten worse towards him when Kyle started to pull away because it meant that his “unnaturalness” was evident to everyone. His fight then and the fights in the following year always had more to do with his dad than with him being ashamed of being gay. He put the photos down in the box and went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. His phone chimed as he unscrewed the top and after a deep drink, he checked the message.

<<Michael 9:13 p.m.>> Uh oh, you’ve left me on read. You okay? Me 9:14 p.m.>> I’m fine. Sorry. Just got wrapped up in my head for a minute. Me 9:15 p.m.>> How did you see that? You weren’t in my gym class? <<Michael 9:16 p.m.>> I was hiding under the bleachers skipping english. Me 9:17 p.m.>> THAT WAS THE FIRST DAY! <<Michael 9:17 p.m.>> Right? Nothing to do anyway. It was fine. It’s in the past. I graduated high school, didn’t I? No harm, no foul.

Alex laughed quietly to himself, staring at the message screen. He went back to the couch and flopped back down across the cushions with a sigh.

Me 9:20 p.m.>> You did. Even graduated college. I guess you’re right. <<Michael 9:21 p.m.>> When do you remember seeing me for the first time? Me 9: 23 p.m.>> I feel like it was biology when we were lab partners. I was supposed to be with Max, remember? <<Michael 9:24 p.m.>> Yeah, I was with Liz. Max had no chill back then. How the fuck did it take Liz until senior year to notice that he liked her? Me 9:35 p.m.>> Had no chill? *Has* no chill.

“Michael! MI-CHAEL!” Max hissed loudly from his seat next to Alex two rows behind where Liz was sitting. The class period was just getting started and everyone was still milling around trying to find their assigned seats. Michael looked over his shoulder at Max who was looking desperately at him. Michael mouthed ‘what?!’ and gave Max an irritated glare.

“Switch with me!” Max whisper screamed. Alex was smirking into his notebook as he watched the exchange through the side of his eye. He hadn’t really noticed the curly-haired boy before, but the eye roll he gave Max was epic. He started to turn back to the front when Max whispered again. “I’ll pay you!”

Michael turned back around abruptly and narrowed his eyes.

“How much?” Michael asked, not whispering but keeping his voice low enough not to carry to the teacher who was about to start taking roll. Max looked desperately towards the front of the class at Liz’s back where she was ignoring what was happening beside her in favor of actually paying attention. She was about the only one.

“Fifty,” Max called out.

“Seventy-five and you buy my lunch for a week,” Michael countered. Alex was highly amused. Max darted his eyes over to Liz’s back again and nodded. Michael grabbed his stuff and moved quickly towards the back of the classroom while Max grabbed his stuff to go forward.

“Sorry!” Max called out to Alex softly before he left. Alex watched him slide into the seat next to Liz smoothly and take out his notebook. She looked over and smiled at him in confusion, turning to look back at where Michael was now taking his seat next to Alex. Alex looked over at him and was struck full in the face with his mischievous grin.

“That sucker, I would’ve done it for twenty-five,” Michael shared with Alex conspiratorially, leaning closer to him while he spoke so his voice wouldn’t reach Max’s ears. Alex felt himself blushing a little at the somewhat flirtatious smirk Michael was giving him. He’d been aware of Michael, but hadn’t really ever paid him any mind. Now he was near him, he could see the interesting light brown of his eyes somewhere between gold and green. He also smelled a little like lake water and the woodsy, spicy deodorant Alex had smelled on Mr. Valenti. It was weirdly comforting.

“So he has a thing for Liz or is he that afraid of failing bio that badly? I’m not stupid,” Alex asked, clearing his throat and trying not to seem offended by Max’s desperation to switch partners.

“Oh, he has a major thing for Liz. It’s gross. Like, she’s pretty, don’t get me wrong. But he’s been writing Mr. and Mrs. Ortecho-Evans in his notebook since third grade or some shit like that,” Michael revealed, taking out his own bio notebook from his bag and setting in on the lab table in front of him. Alex took in what he was saying and nodded.

“So it’s not cause everyone says I’m gay?” Alex asked, voice low and a little nervous to see Michael’s reaction. Michael looked over at him, eyebrows drawn together and something like sympathy passing over his expression before he responded.

“No, man. Max doesn’t give a shit about that and neither do I. You weren’t planning on trying to date him, were you?” Michael asked, shooting him a grin. Alex grinned back, relieved to hear that someone in the school who was so upstanding and obviously straight like Max wasn’t a complete jerk. Michael didn’t seem too bad either.

“Nah. He’s not my type. I like musicians,” Alex joked, shooting Michael a side-grin.

“You don’t say? Do you play?” Michael asked, eyes forward now in a semblance of paying attention to the teacher. Alex glanced up towards the board, but continued slouching over his lyrics notebook.

“Guitar,” he replied shortly as the teacher started explaining their first lab assignment.

“Cool. Me too,” Michael said. Alex could see him studying him out of the corner of his eye. “We should jam sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

And they did jam together eventually. A week later they’d gotten together and Alex had learned that Michael did not know one end of a guitar from the other. He’d let Michael borrow his brother Greg’s guitar and then taught him everything he knew over the course of the next three months.

Me 9:40 p.m.>> Man. Who knew we’d still be friends this long after. <<Michael 9:45 p.m.>> I did. Once you taught me to play guitar, you were stuck with me for life. There’s an unbreakable bond built when one dude teaches another dude how to finger... Me 9:46 p.m.>> Jesus Christ. That was terrible. <<Michael 9:47 p.m.>> Bet you’re laughing though. Me 9:48 p.m.>> I plead the fifth. Also, I gotta get to bed. Early day tomorrow. <<Michael 9:50 p.m.>> That’s some responsible adult behavior right there. Gross. Me 9:51 p.m.>> You’re gross. <<Michael 9:52 p.m.>> I am gross. I’m going to take a shower and change that, however. When will you be young and fun again? Me 9:53 p.m. >> Shut up. Go take your shower. <<Michael 9:53 p.m.>> Fine. Go to bed. Think about me in bed. Me 9:54 p.m.>> *You* think about me in bed. <<Michael 9:55 p.m.>> Always do. Night Me 9:56 p.m.>> Night.

Alex heaved himself off the couch and went to his room. The apartment always seemed so dark and lonely when he finished talking with Michael. He needed to work on making friends. That would help him not miss him so much.

#coming up easy #malex wip #malex #coming up easy update #michael guerin #alex manes #fwb malex

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lildaveselectronics · 7 years ago

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A few weeks back, Ford invited us out to Salt Lake City to spend an afternoon in the 2017 Ford GT supercar. They’re only making 250 of these things per year, and they’ll go for around $500,000 each. Needless to say, I mulled it over for about 9 milliseconds before buying myself a plane ticket and heading for Utah.

Before we dive in, a bit of backstory: back in 1963, Henry Ford II set out to buy Ferrari. The deal fell through in its final stages, leaving Ford with something of a grudge.

He set out to build a car that could beat Ferrari at Le Mans, the (even then!) legendary 24-hour endurance race that Ferrari had dominated for years.

It took a few years of defeat — but by 1966, Ford had cracked the code. They’d built a car they dubbed the GT40 MkII — and with it they swept the podium at Le Mans, their three cars walking away with first, second, and third place. Then they won again for good measure in 1967, 68, and 69.

50 years later, they’re celebrating the anniversary by reimagining the GT40 for the modern day. Thus, the 2017 Ford GT.

Now, I only got to spend a total of a few hours behind the wheel — if we’re going to do an in-depth review of a car, we need to spend at least a week in it. But I did walk away with some impressions.

This car drives the way every teenager who grew up with a poster of the GT40 plastered above their bed dreamed it might. You think, GT does. I tried pushing this car to its limits, and didn’t even get close. In a game of chicken between Greg and the GT, the GT won.

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For the sake of maintaining an aerodynamic profile, Ford shaved just about as much space out of the interior as they could. I’m 6′ tall on the dot — and, to my surprise, I could sit inside the GT comfortably. Once in a track harness and helmet, however, I had to slouch a bit to keep from rubbing the roof; if you’re on the taller end and planning on track days, expect as much.

There’s not much in the center console in terms of gadgetry that you won’t find in more standard cars — these days, there’s just not much technology that can exist on the touchcreen of a $450,000 car that can’t exist elsewhere. Most of the tech goes into what you don’t see, like the fully carbon-fiber tub you’re sitting in and the 647 horsepower engine under the hood.

But speaking of technology: Ford is launching a Performance racing companion app, and it’ll be exclusive to the GT at first. You pop open the app on your phone, plug it into the car via USB, and it acts as a super purpose-focused GoPro. It records video, all while pulling speed, gear, and GPS data straight from the engine. At the end of your laps, it dumps it all out in a straight-to-Facebook-ready video, complete with lap times and a video game-style map of your realtime position as you blast around the track. Ford’s not the only one doing this (Chevy has something in a similar vein with their Performance Data Recorder), but it’s a nice touch and hopefully it trickles down to their other vehicles quickly. Here’s a screenshot from one of the videos:

Now, to be clear, if it somehow isn’t already: this is not a car you buy as your everyday driver — even if you might have $450,000 to burn, and even if you somehow manage to nab one of the 250 of these Ford will make per year. It’s a race car that happens to be street legal; practicality is not the point. The trunk is the size of a large shoebox, and the interior is just big enough for two medium-sized people to sit side-by-side assuming they’re pretty good friends and don’t mind rubbing elbows all day. If you just want a car that’ll destroy most cars at stop lights but you also need something to take the kids to school in, there are other options.

But if you are in the position to put something like this in your garage and have already worked your way onto the list: don’t worry. I think you’ll be happy with your decision. And I’m super jealous.

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