#hmd023

[andrea-lyn]

hmd023 replied to your post “I got tagged by the lovely @gra-sonas​ and @queersirius​ and I adore...”

Oh sharing a bed for Malex?!

(A little shorter than anticipated, but still hope you enjoy!)

---

“Over, move over.”

Alex groans as he’s woken from his drowsy state, blinking and peering up at Michael from where he’s being shoved over. He’s annoyed, grabbing the pillow, but moving to make space without question. When Isobel suggested they go to an Oktoberfest event as friends (all of them), Alex should have bailed.

Because how is he supposed to cope with a sleepy, beer-drunk Michael getting all handsy with him while crawling in behind Alex. On the other bed, Isobel and Max are sleeping head to toe, and Liz and Maria and Rosa have the other bedroom.

Kyle had been the smart one, citing work.

“Michael...” Alex hisses, when Michael grabs him and hauls him in to be his little spoon.

“Both of you,” Isobel groans. “If you’re going to have sex, can you do it quietly? I can already feel my hangover.”

Max says something that’s probably meant to be English, but comes out as garbled nonsense. 

Alex wants to insist that he’s too tired for sex, but he knows it would just get further griping from the Evans’, so he shuts up and turns over, giving Michael a gentle nudge of his knee into his ass. 

“Wha...?”

“You hate being big spoon,” Alex reminds him in a soft whisper, not wanting to get into more trouble. “C’mere,” he says, once he’s got them rearranged and can wrap his arms around Michael, draping his good leg over his hips to tug him back into his body, putting one of the pillows on the other side to bracket Michael in. 

“Thanks, Alex,” Michael mumbles, letting out a sigh so serene that Alex is suddenly jealous of how relaxed he is -- right up until he remembers that he’s the reason he is.

[lambourngb]

How bout some Michael POV for your masterpiece?!!!

This takes place during chapter 2, Michael has just exited the mindspace and is waiting for the agents to question him. 

“I take my last chance, to burn a bridge or two”

Michael had passed the point of exhaustion both two days and ten years ago. 

The thin, plastic covered cushion in the holding cell at Chaves County Sheriff's Office had the same feel of familiar comfort as his camp bed mattress in the Airstream, both places adequately met his needs after a bender or a brawl. He was never one to shy away from dropping into oblivion, met in the bottom of the bottle or at the end of a long night of working on his ship, until today. Closing his eyes meant slipping into the almost hypnotic state of the mindspace, and then he would hear her voice again.

His mother. Golden and whole for a moment. She was the energy between his cells, the original instructor of his atoms, funneling life into him; to grow and be strong.

“Oh my beloved son, oh you’re here, you’re here already grown and bound, I’m here, but no time, not enough time, there’s so much you should know my beautiful boy, I love you, I love you so much, I will always love you, now go, run, run for me.”

His eyes snapped open as the burn of tears threatened again. Goddamn it, he didn’t have time for that. Taking a deep breath, he stared up at the unremarkable ceiling to force his mind to go quiet. It was an old building, but built soundly. Not a crack in the plaster, not a flaw to betray its age. It housed the broken, who knew where home was but stayed away in the arms of intoxication; the evil, who knew home as a place for violence or thievery, and the lost, who longed for a home but never found the way back. All those souls gathered under its roof, this solid roof that sheltered without wear or tear.

At one time Michael had been all of those; deep into the dark warmth of drunk, or full of crooked wagers from dice games, he had even been picked up on a cold night a time or two with nowhere to go. Marked by violence in a tool shed, the system shocked with such a hard shove on his orbit, that he was knocked forever from the path he once had as a teenager, left to wander in all of those grim directions. 

Once upon a time his English teacher assigned to the class, near the end of term with graduation nipping at their heels, some busy work in the form of a ‘where do you see yourself in ten years’ thought experiment. His hand had sketched out a good job, college degree, and a house, while his mind traveled the fantasies of holding the small hands of a child, of helping pat dirt down over a buried seed in his garden, of Alex, always Alex, playing his guitar on the back porch-

Fuck. His bare left hand, now whole and hale, mocked him.

Michael wrenched his mind back to the present, and dug out a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket to wrap over his left hand. He tied a knot, pulling it tight with his teeth. A bitter smile crept over his mouth, using his teeth again for the grip he lost in his hand was familiar at least.

Hopefully whatever trouble that Max was in, was teaching him a lesson in meddling where he wasn’t wanted. High on power Max thought to heal his hand, but took no care to think about the damn consequences of everything, of Noah, of the things Noah was up to in Roswell. He flexed his hand again, the tight constriction of the fabric felt comfortably close to how the scar tissue pulled and tugged over his ruined knuckles. Already there were too many questions to answer, he didn’t need one more on his hand. 

As angry as he was at Max, he couldn’t help but hope that the flash of pain/wrong/vacuum wasn’t so serious that he couldn’t be useful now. Ride into the Sheriff’s Office, explain away the questions to his boss about Noah and Racist Hank, so Michael could be released without need of Alex and Alex’s story.

Goddamn it Alex. Showing up at the Wild Pony, those hopeful dark eyes turning wounded and betrayed as he realized that just because he didn’t see Michael as suitable, someone else did. Like he had the right to protest Michael moving on from them. It wasn’t Michael saying that they couldn’t be together because of Michael’s record, and it certainly wasn’t Michael saying that their relationship wasn’t worthy of a pyrotechnic breakup. 

And yet. When the pyrotechnics were happening, Alex was there. Immovable. Saying everything that Michael had longed to hear for ten long years.

“I love you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you and I would give anything to have this story be true, that you were mine all along.”

A tear slipped down his unshaven face as he blinked rapidly. Alex was so stupid, how could he miss the fact that Michael had been his? Across the years, through two different battlefields, and after Alex had finally come home, Michael had worn two concrete boots, Alex and Isobel. Each his own anchor to this planet, as he worked to complete his ship.

The door swung open, startling Michael off the bunk, as a tall, dark haired man was escorted into the room by Agent Ross, who shot Michael an annoyed look. “Just knock on the door when you’re ready.” 

The imposing cut of the military uniform and densely packed square of ribbons on his chest sent a shivered down Michael’s spine. It was only just over two days since Michael had been involved in the destruction of a secret military operation. 

“Michael Guerin?” 

“Depends on who is asking.”

“I’m Major Mark Torres, attached to the JAG office at Kirtland Air Force Base.” The officer tucked his cover under his arm and held his hand out toward Michael. 

None of what this Mark Torres said made any sense to him. Kirtland was three hours away, Holloman was the closest base to the Caulfield facility. Michael lifted his eyebrows mockingly, but made no move to step closer to the open cell door, “That’s nice and all, but I’ve got nothing to say to anyone until my lawyer shows up.”

An amused smirk flitted over his mouth, “I am your lawyer, Alex sent me.” Instead of waiting for a response, Mark entered the cell and took a seat on the bunk, turning to Michael with a patient expectation. He placed the brim of his cover next to Michael’s black cowboy hat and then pulled his slim briefcase into his lap.  “I admit, this isn’t how I expected to meet you, the infamous Michael.”

“Alex got me an Air Force lawyer?” The rest of that implication, that Alex had spoken of them to anyone in the past, let alone someone in the service was too much to even think about.

“I’m a lawyer who’s in the Air Force, and I’m doing this in the civilian court system pro-bono,” Mark replied easily, and popped the fasteners of his briefcase open to pull out a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Now that we’ve covered why I’m here, let’s talk about why you’re here. Tell me everything you know about Noah Bracken, what your connection to him, why the police might think you’re involved with his disappearance, and why they found a body when they came to question you.”

Michael stared at Major Mark Torres for a long moment, weighing his extremely limited options. The distant place inside him, where his faint connection to Max lived, was still and empty. He rubbed his wrapped fist against his face before sighing as he took a seat next to him. Alex said to trust him that he would get Michael out of this, and whatever mess that lay between them after Caulfield and now Maria, Michael believed wholeheartedly that Alex didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

As a rule Alex Manes didn’t make promises at all, to anyone, least of all to Michael.

“I know Noah Bracken, I mean everyone does in this town and I have a record, petty shit obviously, but that’s enough I guess for them to suspect me. But I have an alibi, I was with my boyfriend all night- hell, I’m with him every night. We’re kinda makin’ up for lost time since he was in Iraq, until well-”

“You’re referring to Captain Alexander Manes, correct?” Mark asked, scratching notes down on his pad without looking up.

“No one calls him ‘Alexander’, but yeah. Alex.” Michael licked his lips almost nervously, before he took a deep breath. This was the easy part of the alibi. “Alex is everything to me. I fell in love with him when we were seventeen, and I never stopped fallin’.”

“He did mention you were a romantic.” Mark nodded in approval of Michael’s words and capped his pen, “let’s start with the last time people saw Bracken in public at that-, good God, this town has a museum dedicated to aliens? What a thing to celebrate. Anyway, Alex tells me you’re a mechanic, that you can fix anything you put your hands on, were you at the gala for business purposes?”

Michael stuttered a little, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. He wasn’t used to anyone singing his praises, let alone a complete stranger. What did Alex say to this guy? “Um I helped do the lighting and sound for the organizer, Isobel. Um, Isobel Evans-Bracken. I left Alex at home, err, my Airstream ‘cause he doesn’t really enjoy the dog-and-pony show even though there was free booze. I gave a friend a ride home, Maria Deluca, and then spent the rest of the evening with Alex. In bed.”

His pen never stopped moving, “and last night, when this Hank Gibbons ended up dead, you were with Alex again? At your Airstream again?”

“Yeah, um, Alex lives pretty far out of town, and I had work in town. Um, during the week he spends a couple nights at mine, on weekends we’re at his place. Compromise.” 

Spinning this fairy tale of shared residences to Torres, of disappearing to Alex’s cabin on the weekends and splitting the time apart during the week renewed an ache inside Michael. The slow turn of a bolt, burrowing into his heart as the threads of the light caught on hope and corkscrewed deeper into place. 

“No one can corroborate that, correct? Other than Alex?” 

“We’ve been keeping our relationship quiet. For personal reasons.”

This time Mark’s pen came to a halt, and he looked over to Michael with a sad understanding smile, “I’ve met Alex’s dad. He’s a first class prick. I’ve never met anyone more different from Alex in my life.”

“That’s for sure. Niger can have him. In fact, I hope he gets Ebola over there.” His eyes glanced up to the video camera on the corner before dropping to Torres again. Michael paused, hedging the risk of this disclosure, before continuing, “I’m not a violent man, but if I were, I wouldn’t bother with the town lawyer or the local racist asshole, it would be to protect Alex from that guy.”

Mark followed his gaze to the camera and back, before nodding. “I think I know all I need to know about you, Michael. Let’s go clear this up with the locals and get you released.”

*** 

“You were with Captain Manes all night? You didn’t leave at all?” Agent Ross asked quietly, his thin face placid, while his partner, Agent Rollins barely held back the curl of disgust from his face. 

“Have you seen Alex? Like dude, I know I’m punching way above my class with him, you would have to be crazy to leave a bed that had him in it.” Michael smirked, fiddling with his hat on the table. Next to him, Major Torres stayed quiet taking notes.

“And he can confirm that?”

“Yes. I know he didn’t let you have a good look, but my Airstream isn’t big enough for him to miss me leaving. Trust me. We were together all night.”

“Let’s go back to the fight you had with Mr. Bracken-”

“Man, that’s bullshit, okay?!” Michael cut him off, “I did not have a fight with Noah, and whoever says differently is lying.”

Mark set down his pen to touch Michael’s hand lightly, before looking at the two agents evenly, “one eyewitness, on a dark night, does not overturn the alibi provided by Captain Manes. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“This relationship you’re in with Captain Manes, he’s alluded to the fact that it was kept secret. I find that rather convenient, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to help out a friend. Maybe cover up the fact you were having an affair with the wife of our missing lawyer?” Rollins smirked, exchanging glances with his partner. 

It took a moment before Michael could catch the inference, and then only Mark’s tight grip on his wrist kept him in his seat. “Wait?! You think I’m lying about Alex to cover up for an affair with Isobel? What the fuck, man? Number one, that’s gross on a number of levels, number two, Alex is the most stubborn man alive, but he’s also the most honorable. He wouldn’t do that for anyone, especially not about adultery. He could get court martialed for that shit.”

Ross picked up his turn to provoke, offering another even almost-bored question to Michael, “I see, you deny that an affair was going on with Ms. Bracken. So you’re not attracted to women then?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Torres protested. 

“Mr. Guerin opened the door earlier, basing his alibi on how attractive a bed partner Captain Manes was.”

Michael took a deep breath again, pushing down the nettled feelings of exposure. Of all things he thought he would be discussing at the sheriff’s office, this wasn’t anywhere on the list. “Not that it’s relevant, but I’m bisexual, yes. I’m also monogamous. It’s not that difficult to understand. I love Alex, I wouldn’t cheat on him with anyone.”

“So on the night of the Gala, that was thrown by your platonic good friend Mrs. Bracken, you were there, without Captain Manes, but in the company of a Ms. Maria Deluca. Another platonic friend, I assume. Do you remember anyone bothering Mr. Bracken? Someone who might have wanted to harm him?”

***

Hours later, after they had combed through every minute of Michael’s time at the gala and the night before when Hank Gibbons was at the Wild Pony, the agents finally concluded their questions and granted his release from temporary custody. There was still an air of disbelief from both agents regarding his alibi being with Alex.

From the outside, Michael couldn’t blame them. Even setting aside his spotty employment record, rap sheet, and history of being in care of the state, anyone with eyes could see that Alex Manes was a man who could have his pick of partners. Why would he pick the outcast of Roswell? It didn’t make sense to Michael that was for sure, and that had been true almost from the beginning.  

“This was fun, Agent Rollins. Let me know if you want me to go over my movements from the other night again, and Alex’s even better movements. I can really open up on that, if it helps,” Michael offered, stomping the blood back into his boots as he left the interview room eagerly.

There was some satisfaction in seeing out of the corner of his eye, Agent Rollins looking as if he had bit into a lemon. 

Next to him, Torres grabbed Michael’s forearm with a warning squeeze and steered him down the hall where Alex was waiting with a worried expression. “What my client means is, you have my number if you wish to schedule a follow-up interview. We’re happy to cooperate in any investigation, especially if it leads to Mr Bracken returning safely home.”

Alex’s eyes flickered from Torres’s hand on his shoulder to the agents and back to Michael, but there was a hint of smug satisfaction in those dark eyes. Somehow Michael knew that Alex was holding back amusement over his graphic words to the bigoted agent. Well, there was no sense in not completing the performance.

He moved into Alex’s space comfortably, and brought his hands to Alex’s neck to draw him into a kiss. His last memory of kissing Alex, had been handled and revisited to the point of being thread-bare before being set aside as an old fantasy out of reach. Feeling Alex’s arms come up and hold him close, sent shocks down his fingertips as he cupped Alex’s chin to hide the chasteness of the kiss from view. 

Alex wasn’t playing fair in return. 

Those big, firm hands of his slid up Michael’s back, and threaded into the sweat-thick curls of his hair. Michael felt Alex’s lips part against his, that clever hot mouth opening to Michael, and nothing tempted Michael more in that moment, than following Alex’s lead. 

That long bolt of the lie, turned deeper inside him, shredding the few safeguards he had in place. Alex loved him, Alex wanted to protect him, Alex had never stayed before- so many truths, so many reasons he wasn’t able to trust this especially now. Michael kept his mouth closed, and after a second, he felt Alex back away. They were good at that at least, retreating.

Alex’s cheeks were warm, probably from the public nature of the kiss, even as his face showed only the firm resolve of their shared story. His eyes drifted down, playing his role of a shy lover with Michael expertly. “You uh, ready to go home then?”

“Long past ready, darlin’.” Michael exhaled tiredly, already wondering how he was going to make it through this without losing more of his heart than he had to spare in the process. He reached for the familiar weight of his hat in his hand, and tipped it to the still watching agents. 

[queermil]

How bout Before The Beginning for my fave WIP?!!!

Apparently Michael is what they call a "difficult drifter". Except for Max and Isobel, who he has a creepy level of drift compatibility with (Isobel says it's because they've spent so much time in the mind space with her, but Michael's not to sure) and Maria Deluca, who is apparently drift compatible with just about everyone, he hasn't been compatible with anyone. Brain scans and personality screening had provided a few possibilities but once they faced each other in the training room, everything fell apart.

It doesn't bother Michael, since he only has plans to pilot with Max and Isobel anyway, but it's a worry for his trainers.

"This is the last one, Guerin," Fightmaster Valenti tells him with a click of her tongue. "At least try and make an effort with this one."

Michael laughs as he lunges into a stretch. "I always make an effort, ma'am."

"Ah, here he is," Valenti gestures to the door of the Kwoon Combat Room, where Alex Manes has just entered.

Michael swallows and looks down at where he's stretching out his calf. Alex Manes is pretty, sarcastic, aloof, and kicks ass in the training room. Michael knows cause he's watched him. Closely. They haven't had much reason to interact beyond basic training, especially since he and the twins keep to themselves, but nothing about him screams compatible to Michael. Well, at least not drift-wise.

"Am I gonna get in trouble if I break the Marshall's son?" he asks, stepping out of the stretch to look up at Alex.

It's the wrong thing to say. Alex's face gets a pinched look. He ignores Michael's jab and turns to the Fightmaster. "Ma'am?"

Valenti nods. "Hanbō, gentlemen. And please remember that the goal is not to win."

"Not likely," Michael grins, picking up his stick. He spins it once, twice, then takes an opening stance, planting his feet firmly on the mat.

Alex holds his own hanbō with both hands at the middle, then slowly slides them apart, stopping when he finds a balance. Michael's so busy watching his hands that he misses Alex taking an opening stance as well.

"Begin," Valenti says.

Michael strikes out first, grinning when Alex immediately parries. He goes in for another hit, changing direction at the last second to aim for Alex's shin. He's shocked when his hanbō strikes wood instead of flesh, and looks up at Alex in surprise, whose brow is furrowed with focus.

Michael mirrors that frown, then swings the stick around to aim for the other shin, changing again to aim for hip, then shoulder, then rib. Alex meets him at every strike.

Getting frustrated, Michael slips the stick through his hands so that the grip is higher and he can go in for a close range hit, bringing the end of the stick up towards Alex's shoulder.

Alex hits it away with the side of his hand, completely knocking Michael off balance, and then brings his own hanbō around to smack Michael right in the shin, causing him to topple over.

Michael hears the surprised huff of laughter from Valenti to the side but he doesn't care. He's on his back, looking up at Alex Manes from the mat. And pretty, sarcastic, aloof Alex Manes is looking back at him, eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

"Huh," Michael says.

[foramomentonly]

How bout POV for Nail In My Coffin?!

Have some poor, poor Kyle POV!

Kyle dances uncomfortably on the balls of his feet in the small hallway, silently urging whoever is behind the locked door of the studio bathroom to hurry. Normally when he finds the door locked he returns to his station and comes back a little later, but this time he'd pushed himself to stay focused until his alterations were complete, and now his bladder is uncomfortably full.

It's been nearly ten minutes and he's yet to hear any of the usual telltale signs of finishing up; no flushing toilet, no running faucet, nothing. He lets decorum hold him back for another minute or so, but his body is screaming at him and the other toilet is broken, he's heard, so he steps forward and raps lightly on the door. There's a soft shuffling sound, followed by a thump, then a strangely breathless, almost pained voice.

"Busy!"

Kyle steps a bit closer to the door, medical training kicking in as a checklist of possible gastrointestinal ailments runs through his head. He hears a deep moan and his concern spurs him to knock again.

"Are you all right?" he asks, then adds, "It's Kyle."

If Alex is the social outcast of set: respected, but far from beloved, than Kyle is becoming the den mother, a warm presence people tend to spill their problems and secrets to.

The voice that responds is different from the first, and Kyle recognizes it easily.

"He's fine, Kyle," Alex says, voice deep, confident, the audible equivalent of a smirk. "But I'm not quite done with him yet."

Another thump and a moan, louder and less reserved, sounds from behind the door, and Kyle hears Alex murmur something in a scolding tone, makes out the words fingers and gag before he steps away, shaking his head.

Kyle makes his way back down the hall, muttering curses under his breath. Alex is falling hard for Michael, and Kyle honestly loves to see it. But he really doesn't need to see--or hear or really even have knowledge of--the very healthy and valid expression of that love. Like ever. And he also still really needs to pee.

[manesalex]

Hey I'm very late for this meme (oops!) but POV for touching you I start to bloom?! I love this fic so much:)

Thanks for the ask! It’s never too late for more touching you I start to bloom ! Here’s a scene from the start of chapter 6 now in Michael’s POV. I wrote this while my nephew was shouting and running around, so I apologize if it doesn’t make sense. Focusing for long enough to read a sentence is difficult. XD

***

Michael feels like he can't breathe until he opens the panel and finds Alex there, on the floor, dark eyes looking up at him calmly, in spite of the tear stains on his face.

Michael knows they should probably move, that this position can't be good for Alex's leg, but he desperately needs to fix this first. If he can. He can’t let Alex find a reason to pull away from him. So he sits down next to Alex in that small space, drawing comfort from the feeling of Alex's shoulder pressed against his and the way he hasn't tensed or tried to pull away.

He takes Alex’s hand in his, hoping that his touch can reassure Alex that he’s still here. And that he will stay. “My soulmate is alive,” he starts. “And I need you to know that doesn’t change anything between us.” Alex opens his mouth to speak, but Michael is certain he’s going to argue with him, so he continues, “It doesn’t. You know Beka and Stef. That’s how it is for lots of soulmates. It’s entirely platonic. It’s actually incredibly rare for it to be romantic. For so many reasons.” He pauses before adding, “You are my husband. You are the love of my fucking life, Alex. I choose you.”

But Alex shakes his head and pulls his hand free from Michael’s, looking away from him as he says, “You say that now but. You’ll meet them and they’ll be perfect for you. You’ll love them easily. That’s what soulmates are, Michael. And you can try with me, but it won’t be the same. It won’t be this fated fucking cosmic connection that you have with them. I’m just a fucked up human. And I love you even more for trying, but…” Michael is silent as Alex takes a deep breath and wipes away tears. He wants to argue with him, to convince him that Alex is so much more than some ‘fucked up human’. He’s everything to Michael. Alex continues, “If you don’t just let me go in the end, you’ll be staying out of guilt or obligation and I can’t ask that of you. I can’t be that for you.”

“Alex, love, please look at me,” he wishes he could make Alex see how much he loves him, how certain he is that he will always choose Alex. He hopes that Alex can see the truth in his eyes. “I love you easily. I will close that connection again. I don’t care about any of that, okay? I choose you. I don’t care what’s fated, you’re my fucking cosmic connection.” Michael is aware he’s becoming frantic. He’s terrified he’s going to lose Alex over this, desperate to convince him to stay. He’ll do anything to get him to stay, even cut off that part of himself again. Anything for Alex. “Please, Alex. Let me choose you.”

After what feels like an eternity, Alex finally nods and says, “Don’t shut it off, Michael. It’s a part of you. Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything love,” Michael agrees.

“Don’t stay with me out of guilt or obligation? If you find them and you want them instead, choose them.” The fact that Alex thinks he could ever choose anyone over him makes Michael want to cry. But he knows that, right now, he needs to be there for Alex. He can’t give Alex yet another reason to focus on his needs.

“Never gonna happen.” He can’t imagine a universe in which he wouldn’t be in love with Alex.

“I’m serious,” Alex replies.

“I know you are. You just… Really don’t know how I see you.” Alex is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and Michael wishes Alex could see himself through Michael’s eyes. “If I could choose you to be my soulmate, I still would.”

“Promise me,” Alex insists.

Michael nods, knowing he won’t ever want to choose someone else, “I promise.”

Alex finally smiles at him and relief washes over Michael.

“Ready to go home?” Michael asks softly, getting to his feet and looking down at Alex.

“Fuck yes,” Alex replies. And then his hands are in Michael’s and Michael is pulling Alex to his feet, reaching out with his powers to help him up and then, when Alex is on his feet, Michael pulls him close, taking comfort in the fact that Alex is in his arms, promising to himself that he will do anything to keep him there forever.

[prouvaireafterdark]

How bout fluffy Malex?! 7. “Can we get a dog?” (cause you know...Buffy!!)

Maybe not as fluffy as you were looking for, but I hope you like it! 💜

Also on AO3!

***

“Can we get a dog?”

Alex’s question takes Michael by surprise and he pauses, up to his elbows in hot soapy water as he cleans up after dinner.

“A dog, huh?” he asks after a second and resumes his work.

“Yeah,” Alex says lightly, and Michael can practically hear his shrug. “There’s a beagle up for adoption at the shelter if you want to take a look.”

Michael bites his lip. He can picture it so easily, a cute little beagle running through the yard, curling up at the foot of their bed at night, keeping Alex company while he works from home on bad pain days. He wants that. He really wants that.

But there’s a part of him that wonders if they’re ready. Adopting a dog with someone isn’t like adopting a child, but it’s still a hell of a lot of responsibility. What if… what if they screw things up by moving too fast?

“Michael?” Alex asks, a curious note in his voice.

“That’s a pretty serious commitment, isn’t it?” Michael asks, keeping his eyes on the dishes, his sponge squeaking as it glides across a plate. “Getting a dog together?”

Michael hears Alex stand up, but before Michael can turn around, he feels strong arms around his waist, Alex’s chin on his shoulder.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m pretty serious about you,” Alex murmurs into his ear.

Tension Michael didn’t even realize he was carrying melts off his shoulders. Alex notices, because of course he does. He feels him press a gentle kiss into the side of his neck before those hands are slowly spinning him in place. Michael’s own are a soapy mess, but Alex doesn’t seem to mind as they settle on his shoulders and soak through his t-shirt.

Standing in their kitchen, in their house, feeling Alex’s tender touch at his waist and seeing the concern in his eyes, Michael feels overwhelmed with love. Yeah, maybe he only moved in a few weeks ago, and maybe other people would say it’s too soon to get a dog together, but… Alex loves him, and after eleven years of loving and losing him, Michael can finally see that white picket fence future for himself with the only person who’s ever made him want it in the first place.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Alex lets out a soft, plaintive noise and moves his hands up to cradle Michael’s face.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart,” Alex hushes, catching the few tears that roll down his cheeks. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Michael pitches forward into Alex’s arms, not trusting his voice quite yet but needing to feel Alex close. Alex slides one hand down to rub his back soothingly while the other guides Michael’s face to his neck. Alex is patient as Michael sniffles and regains composure.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks when Michael has relaxed in his arms again.

“Yeah, it’s just…” he sniffs, a little embarrassed at his own reaction. “I never thought we’d get here.”

“I know,” Alex squeezes him tighter. “I’m sorry.”

Michael swallows and shakes his head, “Stop. We said we wouldn’t do that anymore.” Michael feels just as responsible for how long it took them to make this work and apologizing for it doesn’t get them anywhere.

Alex sighs, “You’re right. I just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“I’m not,” Michael promises, leaning back to look at Alex’s face. His brow is drawn tight with worry and Michael can’t help but reach up to smooth it out with his thumb. “I’m not, I swear. It just… surprises me sometimes, that I’m not dreaming. That this is real.”

The confession makes Alex’s eyes soften. “Me too.”

Michael brings their foreheads gently together, his eyes fluttering closed as he takes a deep, grounding breath.

“I love you,” Michael whispers into the space between them.

Alex kisses him, so soft and sweet that Michael hardly needs to hear the words to know he feels the same, but it makes him smile anyway when Alex retreats just far enough to murmur them back against his lips.

“Alex?” Michael asks later, when he’s sitting between Alex’s legs, snuggled close to his chest as they watch some trashy Netflix show Rosa recommended.

“Yeah?”

“Can we get a dog?”

Michael feels Alex hide his smile against his bare shoulder.

“Yeah, baby,” he says, low and soft. “I think we can.”

[haloud]

Oh! 97. “God damnit, now all i can think about right now is you licking my cock like its that ice cream cone.” for Malex lol?!

ahahahaha, this is a fun one

==========

Michael curls his tongue smugly around the tip of his ice cream cone and basks in Alex’s narrow-eyed glare. 

Two hours he’s been at this; when he finished off the first one he went back for seconds, and Alex’s mounting frustration is more than enough reward to make it worth the money and the sticky fingers. 

“I swear to god, Guerin,” Alex hisses, and Michael ignores him in favor of licking his lips clean of chocolate and cream, sliding his tongue slowly across his bottom lip to catch every morsel. 

In the next moment, though, he almost drops his dessert when Alex’s hand comes down heavy and gripping tight on the back of his neck, pavlovian response making his body light up with pleasure and anticipation from just that simple motion. A sleepy grin covers his face as he waits for the next words, promise or threat or anything at all, that Alex will whisper in his ear.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says, “And I know you think doing it in public is super fun.”

Michael flutters his eyelashes. “Yeah, I do. Are you not having fun right now?”

“I’m saving it for later, actually. When we get home and I have you all to myself again--just you,” he strokes a finger lightly across the nape of Michael’s neck, sending shivers down his spine, “Me,” he winds that finger around a single curl and tugs, “And all the fun you’ve had today.”

And while Michael just laughs breathlessly, imagination in overdrive, Alex leans over and sucks the last of the melting ice cream from the cone.

[echo-bleu]

NEXT!

I know your fave is still Complicated Truths, but I’m also working on Hands and the sequel to setting fire, so I’ll give you three :)

He joins Michael back down in the open office space, at Michael's new desk.

Complicated Truths

“You alright?” he asks, when Michael doesn't even turn toward him.

“I saw a man get killed today,” Michael drawls out. “I lied to a federal agent. I was shot at. I found out you−” he trails off with a vague gesture.

“Or as we call it, Thursday at the Agency,” Alex shrugs with a smile. He won't belittle what Michael has been through today, because it is a lot. But what Michael needs right now isn't self-pity, or even a listening ear. He needs to get his mind of the work until his brain has had time to process things.

Sequel to setting fire to our insides (for fun):

“Manes,” Alex murmurs into the phone. He hates how weak his voice sounds. He tries to sit up, to free his airway at little more, but it only succeeds in making him breathless.

“Alex! Where are you? Rosa keeps asking about you. She's worried.”

Alex frowns. Rosa has been texting him, and he's probably taking far too long to answer for her tastes. He hasn't found the energy to really look at his phone in days, and he can't remember the last time he talked to her. Or to Liz, for that matter.

“I'm...busy,” he lies.

Only...only he can't lie about this, can he? Not forever. If Rosa is in fact worried, it's only a matter of time before either of the Ortecho sisters insist on seeing him. They'll turn up at the house soon enough whatever he does. And besides, does he really want to lie?

Liz, Maria and Rosa were once his best friends. Where has that gone?

our hands clasped so tight 

Michael slips out of the reunion after less than an hour. He slipped out after helping Isobel to get something to eat and made it back late, so he only got to glimpse Alex on the other side of the room, while Isobel drags him around to talk to people he barely remembers and pretend to be interested in their life.

The music is too loud, and he didn't remember the lighting being this bad. His skin is crawling when he makes it to the corridor outside the gym, where at last things quiet down. He taps his fists together repeatedly, trying to get rid of the ickiness. His head hurts.

He sees the projector before he sees Alex. He's the one who set it up earlier, but he didn't know what Isobel wanted it for. It's projecting photos of them as teenagers, apparently. Michael doesn't know where Isobel got all those pictures, but he recognizes Alex, his hair going down to his chin, pre-emo, laughing on his skateboard.

And underneath, the real, physical Alex, his right pant leg rolled up to reveal his prosthesis, giving the photo an undecipherable look.

“Nostalgia's a bitch, uh?” Michael leans on the doorframe.

[lire-casander]

For the wip meme, 16 for any of your alternate era event fics?!

16. Give a spoiler for your WIP.

I see you, honey, I see you! Know what? I will give you a line (just one) of each fic that’s either finished or in the works for this event. I can’t promise they’re spoilery enough for you, but you’ll have to wait for the event to read them! Later this week I will post a list of all the prompts and the recipients, but for now, you’re only getting the lines!

Under a cut because length.

PRE1900s

Outside, the noise begins to dwindle enough for Alex to close his eyes and allow his heartbeat to slow down, sleep claiming him as it always does — scarcely and violently. 

PIRATES

“Your reputation precedes you. That,” Guerin adds with a smirk, “and the fact that youʼre lacking a leg, just like a pirate. Alex Manes is the only hunter who looks like a pirate, sounds like a pirate, and yet heʼs on the Kingʼs side.”

The problem is, he realizes later on, when the tears have stopped and the fake feelings have dissolved into high glasses filled with beer, that heʼs too good at what he does and nobody wants to take him home at the end of the day. 

He knew he had been bewitched by the charm of sea when at a very young age he’d run from his home and sworn he would destroy everything Jesse Manes had built; he just hadn’t known that he could be lured into another kind of magic, the very same one he’d felt when he’d looked straight into Guerin’s eyes and had wanted to both kiss him and smack him as Guerin had said, “Well, now I’m the captain of this fine lady.”

WESTERNS

The knots are well-done and expertly executed, and while her memory is a bit fuzzy about the events that led her to her current predicament, she knows there’s only one person who could have managed to kidnap her and place her so far away from civilization that she wouldn’t be found in time.

Apparently one of the marshals out there — Max Evans, according to the latest information — had managed to apprehend one of the most sought after criminals in the whole area, but he had been forced to give the criminal up to Roswell’s law force due to some of his crimes having been committed in Sheriff Valenti’s jurisdiction.

Michael grabs his black cowboy hat — a gift from one of his numerous astray trips to Earth — and puts it on, hiding his curls underneath the large wing, and stands up.

1900s

For a brief moment, he realizes that the legends are true — the happiest moments of his life pass before his eyes, laced with some of the most painful scenes he’s lived through — as he feels his hand fails to keep him steadily attached to a structure that’s nothing but busted hopes and broken dreams.

“We can’t get married before he gets deployed, Maria. I’m not talking about losing—you know, about doing—about that,” she stammers by the end of her speech.

He’s been waiting so long for tonight to happen, and although he can’t believe it’s already time for his little rendezvous, he can’t help the nerves piling up in his gut.

MOVIE FUSIONS

He’s not sure what this Max does for a living, but Alex doesn’t care — as long as he keeps getting a brief once-over when Max reaches the end of the counter and gruffly says, “Good morning,” with an almost-yawn.

Right now, though, he’s perched on the bar of some hidden pub in the lowest part of town, a red-haired girl attached to his hip and a whiskey on the rocks in his right hand, trying to slur his way into a fight with one of the patrons who’s massive enough to make anyone scared any normal day.

BOOK FUSIONS

Liz can feel herself blushing under Max’s scrutiny, but she holds his gaze steadily, taking in his appearance today — again a long-sleeved t-shirt, again a baseball cap.

He hastily makes his way back to the barracks where he moved a year ago, when they got Max and Rosa back in pieces after their intense but short participation in the Hunger Games.

Michael Guerin doesn’t understand how he’s come to this situation in his life, torn between following his heart or following his head.

FUTURE SETTINGS

Alex hates himself on a daily basis — being the cripple, the one who lost a leg in an accident two years ago and bringing shame on the long line of Manes men who had won their own races in their own time — but right now the hatred has reached an unimaginable level.

[angsty-aliens]

For the writer ask meme: 3, 9, 34, 38?!

3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing?

I love when things come together easily. I hate when they don’t want to come together. I get frustrated easily. My brain is comprised of a million tiny scenes with no connecting plot. I just want to scatter random scenes across the internet like confetti. But alas… plot.

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

Found family! And least favorite is incest. I want you to find your family, not fuck your family.

34. Unpopular writing thoughts/opinions?

Writing is not relaxing and I’m jealous of everyone who finds it relaxing.

38. How do you nail voice in your books?

The benefit of fanfic is I’m writing things based on an already established medium. So I don’t have to create character voice out of the blue. I just have to pay attention to what’s established. What’s the cadence? Who has a dry sense of humor? Who is literal? What’s the educational background of this person, would they use this word? Are they earnest or a little shit?

[insidious-intent]

Hello I'm here to chat😊 I've seen your make-up/skin-care posts and need some advice oh wise one! My make-up wears off super quickly, like annoyingly fast:( I've tried different types/brands of foundation and same result. I have normal to dry skin. I don't wear lots of make-up anyway and sometimes not at all, but when I have meetings all day, I would love for it to not wear off within a few hours after putting it on argg, help!

Hello friend!!! You have come to the right place, and I’m delighted to talk to you about makeup 🤗

First thing first - if you don’t have a skincare routine before bed, please take a peek at this post to help you get started. Especially since you have combo/dry skin, hydration is very necessary for you. 

Before you put on makeup during the day, moisturizing is key. I recommend something like Clinique 72-hour Moisture Surge hydrator, which should go on your face for 5 minutes before any makeup goes on. 

Now let me introduce you to the wonderful concept of makeup primers - much like paint primers, they make sure makeup goes on smoothly and stays on. For dry skin, hydrating primers are a gift. My personal favorite is Make Up For Ever’s Step 1 primer in hydrating (all their primers are excellent) but if you don’t want to spend so much money, try the e.l.f’s soothing face primer as a trial. Put the primer on after moisturizer, and then put on your usual foundation and concealer. 

Finish the whole thing with a setting spray like this one and watch the makeup stay on for hours!

Come back and tell me if that worked! 

[andrea-lyn]

hmd023 replied to your post “need a writing challenge, so while this is open, offering three-to-six...”

Ohhh I'm feeling in need of more kid fic verse! So how bout ch 6 or ch 52 (or both LOL��‍♀️)

Oh, you’ve got more of six for sure (and more mpreg eventually on the way!)

***

“Mom, can you make Dad stop, please?”

Michael barely glances up from the book he’s making notes in. He only has a few hours before he has to go teach night class and Hope’s pre-teen grumblings usually take only about five minutes to get through. Normally it’s a rant about an injustice at school or a friend who’s being immature. Today, Alex is the topic.

“Stop what, seahorse?”

“You need to stop calling me that too,” she complains. “Ugh!” Pushing her glossy brown curls off her face, she blows a frustrated puff of air up to push the bangs out too, staring at him with all the ire a twelve-year-old can manage. “Dad needs to stop dropping me off at school.”

Flipping the page, Michael hums a, “Why?”

She mumbles something under her breath, and then sighs and says again, “All my friends think he’s hot!”

Michael peers up at her, confused. “...he is hot, sweetie.”

Hope’s frustrated little scream is short and stifled, and she storms off, muttering about how other kids don’t have to deal with this, slamming her door. Alex pops his head out of the study where he’s been composing music, his hair artfully mussed, his five o’clock shadow drawing Michael’s eyes to his lips, and his nails coated with varnish.

He’s good enough to eat.

“What was that about?” Alex asks curiously.

“Our daughter’s friends have excellent taste in men,” Michael says serenely, much to Alex’s confusion. “Nothing, baby, go back to work.” 

And off he goes. 

On Monday morning, Alex is still dropping Hope off, but Michael has allowed his daughter some concessions. Now, Alex has to wear a bowling shirt and a bucket hat during drop off. The comments stop after that, though Michael knows it’s just because no one but him has such impeccable taste to still find Alex Manes so hot, even in his worst clothes.

[lambourngb]

🥳🥳🥳HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!🥳🥳🥳 I know you were expecting to be traveling right now, but I hope you had an amazing day anyway. Hope you felt spoiled and loved!🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂🎈🎊🎈🎉🎈🎂

omg thank you! I had a pretty nice and quiet day, wrote a bit, drank some wine, rode my horse, had dinner with my partner (that I didn’t have to prep OR clean up for) - so while it wasn’t Iceland, it was still pretty good.

I also woke up to a great birthday fic and lots of wellwishes on tumblr and discord. Thank you for sending me this and continuing the love! I’m all emotional and wibbling now. ❤️

[queermil]

POV :)

POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

well obviously i had to write you something from you can fight the hurricane so here’s an alex pov from the first chapter:

Michael still glows golden.

It's the only thing Alex can think as the umbrella comes down and he steps underneath the imposing shadow of the shatterdome. The San Francisco base is larger than the LA base; they have more jaegers to house and crew to run them, and he'd almost forgotten how large it was. The roof of the dome grants him sanctuary from the rain but thrusts him face to face with a different kind of danger.

Michael Guerin is staring back at him, eyes wide in surprise and soft mouth dropped open mid-word.

It's only the shortest amount of time, but for half a second, Alex has no idea what his face does. He can't even fathom what his expression might have been given away before he carefully schools it into neutrality.

He'd known that Michael would be here, had accepted the reality that they would see each other eventually, but he'd thought he would have a little time to get his shit together. Seeing Michael’s face, the strong line of his jaw, the way his curls have grown out since the last time Alex had seen him, is like a punch to the gut. The fact that he won’t stop staring is equally as jarring.

“Rangers, I believe you all know Officer Manes. I’m told you all did basic together.”

“We did, sir.” Alex says in a voice that feels shaky but he hopes is clear. “At ease, guys.” It's bizarre to be talking to the people he trained with like this but so much has changed since those months they all came to know each other on this base. He thinks about his leg. He thinks about why he's here. That thought makes him look over the three siblings, the Evans twins and Guerin, and he forces himself to let his gaze travel over each of them with the exact same weight.

“These three are on loan to us from the Los Angeles base,” Marshal explains, after reintroducing Liz and Kyle. “So best behaviour and let’s see that we return them all in the condition they were provided in.”

“Yessir," the rangers respond.

Alex notices that Michael's gaze has moved to Liz and Kyle, and he takes those five seconds to let his eyes linger. Physically, he looks amazing. Fit and strong, toned muscle showing underneath his shirt and in the curves of his arms. But there's something in his face that draws Alex's attention, beyond that old remembered way that is used to, a kind of weariness in the set of his eyes and the turn of his mouth. This problem with the drift is making him unhappy, and Alex is here to help fix that.

Marshal turns back to their guests. “Drs, the rangers can show you where your stations are. Manes, I want to talk more about the situation, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, sir,” Alex says. He doesn't chance another look at Michael as they walk away, leaving the siblings to show Liz and Kyle around the base. He doesn't want to risk losing the iron-clad control he thought he had over his feelings or worse, actually reveal them through a slip-up of words or expression. Besides, he and Michael will be spending enough time together in the coming weeks.

He tries to be neutral about that fact. He ignores the gnawing fear in his gut. He can't ignore the fluttering hope.

Fuck.

[aewriting]

50. Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had?

In the Roswell fandom, it’s probably “morning After,” both what’s already posted and my ideas for continuing it. And by weird, I mean dark. The whole idea that there is this alien capable of possession, who is also a serial killer, who has also gaslit his wife for YEARS... can’t say I liked that this was Noah, in the show, but in writing Morning After and conceptualizing it, I almost wanted to lean even harder into the idea of him being a REALLY bad dude. Like, the show’s whole handling of that was one of my least favorite canon plots. I would have rather it not been Noah at all, or if they had doubled down on JUST how creepy a character with those kinds of abilities could be - or both, ha.

Honestly, one of the creepiest villains in recent memory, for me, was David Tennant’s portrayal of Kikgrave in the first Season of Jessica Jones. I think there are some similarities between him and Noah, from a mind control perspective, and I wish that could have been fleshed out more.

However, I think I’ve been hesitant to really devote the effort to finishing up Morning After because it could go REALLY dark, and that takes a certain kind of headspace for me.

Thanks for the ask!

[manesalex]

Love your smut, love your fluff, you balance both so well:) Touching you I start to bloom is def one of my faves!!

Thank you so much! I do love my smut and my fluff. My dear friend, @cosmiceverafter, calls it flirst (fluff + thirst) and it is everything I want for Malex. And I’m so glad you love touching you I start to bloom. That fic was a labor of love and I’m glad it brought joy to people.