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pendragonsandbuckleys · 4 years ago

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Reclaiming that broken youth.

Summary: Michael had made it his mission to relive a small piece of the past with Alex. First he tried with the rings, two chunky black and silver things that he’d claimed had been left at the junkyard during his one of his shifts. Alex had simply joked that they weren’t his style anymore and left it at that.

The eyeliner had been a much harder sell and still Alex had refused.

And now, as he was ambling his way up the driveway, he was starting to think that maybe his third attempt would not be so lucky.

aka. Michael convinces Alex to let him dye his hair.

Word Count: 4,949

[Also on AO3]

Was it embarrassing the number of excuses he’d found to come and see Alex? Yes.

Was he going to stop anytime soon? Not likely.

Nostalgia had been rearing its ugly head again leaving him craving a time long since passed and he’d been coming up with whatever reason he could to justify seeing Alex. Going to his house, or the Project Shepard bunker, or the Crashdown where he just happened to bump into him.

The photo of the two of them had been moved from the cardboard box to the desk along with the few other pictures he treasured of Max and Isobel - he couldn’t make it too obvious after all. But seeing the two of them together like that often made him miss what they used to have. Things were so much simpler back then, until they weren’t.

The problem with nostalgia though was that the feelings weren’t real. They were an echo of what used to be that tended to leave an uncomfortable emptiness the longer you thought about it.

That time had passed and there was no getting it back. Unless?

Surely they didn’t need to be seventeen again to get that feeling back. That soft, carefree feeling that used to settle on their skin as they kissed in the desert.

That’s why he had made it his mission to relive a small piece of the past with Alex. First he tried with the rings, two chunky black and silver things that he’d claimed had been left at the junkyard during one of his shifts. Alex had simply joked that they weren’t his style anymore and left it at that.

The eyeliner had been a much harder sell and still Alex had refused.

And now, as he was ambling his way up the driveway, he was starting to think that maybe his third attempt would not be so lucky.

Three quick taps on the wood brought Alex to the door and he was so focused on the sight of him that Michael barely noticed the smile it brought to his own face. He was in full casual wear, t-shirt, jogging bottoms, matching bed hair sticking up in a perfect mess.

“Hey.” Alex welcomed him with a bright smile. If he was at all surprised to see Michael on his doorstep on an early Saturday morning with absolutely no warning, he hid it very well. His eyes darted over to see where the truck had been parked comfortably on the driveway, before flitting back to Michael.

“I thought we could have some fun.” Michael spoke with a smirk, forgoing any formal greeting, eyes already glistening with mischief. And oh how differently that sentence would have been taken when they were seventeen.

Alex was about to step aside without hesitation when he noticed the box held gently in Michael’s grip. He eyed it warily, already sensing the reasoning for the visit. “What is that?”

“Fun!”

“Um no, I believe that’s called hair dye.”

“Just hear me out.” Michael grinned as he confidently side-stepped his way through the doorway and into the house. “We haven’t hung out properly in a while and we both have the day off…”

Alex shook his head as he pushed the door closed behind him and followed Michael towards the living room. He never would have denied Michael entry, but there was something about him making himself at home that gave Alex a warm feeling in his chest. “See, you keep saying we but I don’t see a box of dye for your hair anywhere.”

“Yeah, well I never had an emo phase, did I?”

“The important word there being phase.” Alex crossed his arms against his chest as he peered down at Michael’s hands again. It was a white box with a bunch of writing on it, but the guy on the front was very clearly modelling the black dye inside. “You know I never actually used to dye my hair back then, right?”

Michael shrugged and waved his hand in the air as if to say whatever, we’re doing it anyway and handed the box over for Alex to get a better look. “You vetoed my other options so I’m stepping up my game.”

Alex watched him closely, noting how he squirmed slightly under his gaze. At first, when Michael had started dropping by a few weeks ago, always at odd hours, always unannounced, Alex had been worried. The ‘hanging out’ excuse could easily have been a guise, an easy escape from any problems he was avoiding and Alex didn’t know how long was best to let Michael hide from whatever was going on.

But seeing him now, wide eyes filled with an innocent sort of playfulness, it looked like Michael really did just want to spend time with him. Even if he did have the most random idea for a pass time. “Why are you so desperate for me to dress all emo again?”

“For…fun?”

Alex chewed his bottom lip to hide the small smile threatening to emerge. “I’m only off work for a week, you know.”

“That’s why it’s temporary.” Michael turned the box around in Alex’s hand and tapped at the words printed clearly on the back. “Three washes and it’s gone.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything, haven’t you?”

Michael wasted no time in getting them set up. He grabbed a spare plastic bowl from the kitchen cupboard, an old towel that Alex didn’t care about dirtying and set Alex’s shower stool in front of the large bathroom mirror.

He should have been embarrassed by how excited he was getting, but he was far too busy being filled with said excitement to care. Against all odds, Alex had actually agreed to do this with very little persuasion required and there was no way he was letting him change his mind.

Alex didn’t interrupt as Michael rummaged his way around the house, finding what he needed and he certainly didn’t show his bemusement at how Michael seemed to know exactly where everything was. And once everything was ready, he took his place in the designated seat, strangely nervous at the thought of Michael dyeing his hair.

Though maybe it wasn’t nerves. He certainly had butterflies, though it could be from the thought of engaging in this teenage sleepover-esque activity. For the boy he liked to come over to his house and willingly run his fingers through his hair for the next hour? Seventeen year old Alex would have done anything for this.

“Right, tell me what to do.” Michael said as he pulled the instructions from the box and handed them to Alex before emptying the rest of the contents next to the sink. He’d probably end up doing it his own way, but he just wanted to give Alex an excuse to stop staring at him as he worked.

As Alex unravelled the instructions a small packet of gloves fell out onto his lap. They didn’t look the sturdiest but it was better than nothing. “There’s the gloves so make sure you wear them,” he said as he placed them next to the bowl.

He gave a quick skim read of the words to get a general idea of what do. There was a lot of writing and he doubted Michael would be patient for long enough to get through it all. “Oh okay, this sounds pretty easy, literally just brush it evenly through my hair.”

Michael nodded distractedly as he carefully fiddled with the lid of the tube. The room wasn’t exactly big and he’d already elbowed a wall with one arm and knocked the empty bowl to the floor with the other. Tripping over the towel had been an added bonus that Alex had enjoyed far too much. He had no idea where this clumsiness had suddenly come from, but now he was being extra careful with everything.

“Put it in gently. We don’t want it going everywhere.” Alex instructed him as he squeezed the dye into the bowl. The coal-black cream squelched as it left the tube and a small drop splattered onto the white tile wall which Michael hastily wiped with the back of his hand. It smeared across the wall at first until he managed to clean it all off.

With everything set up, he clamped Alex’s towel covered shoulders and beamed at him through the mirror’s reflection. “You ready?”

“Go for it.” Alex rolled his eyes at the enthusiasm radiating off Michael. Yep, he definitely felt like a teenager right now.

Michael started out slow. The dye was cool against his fingers as he scooped a blob into his palm. He knew Alex would be able to wash it out almost instantly if it ended up looking terrible, but still, he didn’t want to get it wrong.

He took a breath before reaching for Alex’s hair. Only now did it click just how intimate this activity was for two people who had barely done more than stand a few feet away from each other recently. He thought it would be a bit of fun, getting Alex to dress up in his old high school persona that they both used to love. But now, with the dye in his hand, he realised that meant running his fingers through Alex’s hair. An action that he used to love whenever they kissed. The smooth strands under his fingertips, pulling him closer when he could no longer control his urges.

But they were friends now. And friends dyed each other’s hair, right? Friends helped each other put on makeup or decided outfits if one was going on a date, so doing each other’s hair was no different from all of that.

The strands of hair slid across his palm easily, turning from dark brown to black with a single touch. It felt just as soft as it did ten years ago.

The room was silent as he worked save for Michael’s movements and the occasional hmm from Alex. Michael wasn’t sure if Alex realised that he was making the little noises but he was just glad he was finding it relaxing. The casual glances over Alex’s head and into the mirror showed that his eyes were closed, his lips curled into a small smile.

Michael was surprised by how much he was enjoying it himself. He was used to working with his hands all day, but this was different. Working on the cars was methodical, a heavy-handed muscle memory from years of experience, but this? This was gentle, personal.

It took about as long as would be expected to cover hair of Alex’s length and as Michael moved to the front so he could finish up the fringe, Alex opened his eyes to watch him work, “So really, what’s with all the emo stuff?”

Michael avoided the eye contact as he concentrated on turning the remaining brown into black. How could he explain that he was feeling nostalgic without it sounding sappy?

“It’s probably just some misguided attempt at reclaiming my youth.” He answered as he scooped more dye onto his fingers.

“Okay, but it seems more like we’re reclaiming my youth.”

“Yeah, well, this part of your youth was the best part of mine.” Michael replied without thinking, feeling the heat instantly rise up his cheeks at the honest answer.

The mortification was written so clear on his face that Alex forced himself to hold back a chuckle. They were still working on getting that openness back to their friendship, so for it to come out so easily every now and then was a nice step in the right direction.

“I actually always wanted to dye my hair back then.” Alex spoke up, steering into a new conversation to save Michael’s embarrassment. “It seemed like the next logical step for my fashion choice.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Getting the eyeliner passed dad was enough of a challenge and even then it was something I could take off pretty instantly if need be. I think the dye would have been too much of a risk.”

Michael felt a pang of sympathy for all Alex had to endure back then, he’d seen it firsthand several times all the way up until Jesse Manes’ death after all. But no. They weren’t going to dwell on that today. If they were reclaiming their youth then all unwanted memories were unwelcome and henceforth banned from all thoughts.

He nudged Alex’s shoulder playfully as he moved back to the bowl. “And you didn’t have an expert hairdresser to do it for you.”

“That too.” Alex laughed, rolling his eyes as he heard the sound of yet another blob of dye dropping to the floor, “Though I didn’t expect my hairdresser to get it everywhere but my hair.”

Michael gritted his teeth with a frown as he looked down at the small black splatter, a glaringly obvious stain against the white. “Hey, that’s only the third time.”

He ran his hands through Alex’s hair for the last time, being careful to check that every strand was covered. The dye had already started doing its job beautifully and emo Alex was very much taking hold.

It was as he was stepping back to inspect his finished work did he notice just how much of a mess he’d actually made, sheepishly pointing out to Alex that there was some on the edge of the sink, a few blobs in the shower and it was on the wall in about four different places.

“How the hell did it get there, I didn’t even go near that wall.” Michael exclaimed, utterly confounded at the mess he’d managed to create. Had he been in his own head so much that his hands had taken on a life of their own?

“It’s fine,” Alex laughed fondly as he nudged the bin closer with his foot. “Just put the gloves in there before you touch anything else.”

“…wait, there were gloves?”

Alex turned around this time to look at Michael properly. He hadn’t noticed the lack of gloves on the hands in his hair, but looking at them now he could see they were completely covered not by the plastic, but by a creamy black gunk. Michael had a mischievous look on his face, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he tried not to snigger and Alex could feel himself doing the same. “What is the first thing I said to you?”

“Put it in gently?”

They couldn’t hold back their laughter. Scrubbing his hands removed all but the faint grey tint now dyed into his skin, but Michael didn’t care. Maybe it was all the dye fumes, but it felt like he was on a weird kind of high. Here they were, two boys giggling away like they’d been caught making out in the supply closet at school and in that moment everything felt right with the world.

Leaning back against the sink Michael crossed his arms as he admired Alex’s hair from the front. Even slicked back against his head it was looking good but they still had twenty minutes to fill before it was ready. “So, what should we do while we wait?”

Alex slyly leant over to the bowl, still filled a quarter of the way with leftover dye and waggled his eyebrows impishly at the horrified look Michael was now giving him. “Come on Guerin, it washes out.”

It really was quite a small bathroom with nowhere to run so as Alex stood up to get closer, Michael backed away so much he practically fell into the shower. The laughter returned as he tried to hide as much of his hair as he could with his arms. “Nope. These curls are sacred and there’s no way you’re turning them black. The most you’d ever get on me is the eyeliner.”

Alex gasped gleefully, eyes wide with excitement as he watched it dawn on Michael what he’d just said. He opened the bathroom cabinet and there, at the back of the bottom shelf, was Michael’s latest gift to him. Still unused, he’d only kept it for sentimental reasons, a fond reminder of his past self, but now Michael had no excuse.

“Take a seat.” Alex batted his eyelids innocently as he gestured to the stool he had vacated and Michael had no choice but to comply. He always found it hard to deny Alex anything, but right now, he’d do anything to keep that joy in his eyes.

Alex hadn’t used eyeliner in over ten years. At age seventeen it had taken him weeks to perfect the art without smudging it or poking himself in the eye and when he first joined the military he often missed the soothing action of it. But now, a decade on, he still held the pencil with the hands of someone who would never forget how to use it.

Michael looked up at him expectantly from the seat, a slight tingling rushing through him as Alex held his chin to tilt it upwards. He’d never worn any kind of makeup before, never really had the urge to, but there was always a first time for everything.

There was something quite sexy about Alex knowing exactly what to do, telling him when to look up, when to blink, pressing the pencil down just enough to leave the colour on his skin, but not too soft that it tickled. His hands were very gentle as they held Michael’s face and he felt his mind wandering as he let Alex work.

“Guerin, stay still or it’s going in your eye.” Alex admonished lightly, tongue poking out as he concentrated. He was surprised by how steady his hand was being and he didn’t want to mess it up now.

He gave a few more strokes before stepping away, tapping the pencil against his chin as he admired his work with a grin. An eyeliner-wearing Michael was never a look he’d imagined before, but it sure was a look he was appreciating. It was a subtle change, but one that made Alex want to dress him in a leather jacket and start a rock band with him. “All done.”

Mourning the loss of Alex’s touch, Michael sighed as he got to his feet, knees popping as he stood up and leaned in close to the mirror.

He looked…different. Not a bad different, maybe even a good different. It made his eyes seem brighter and his lashes look darker and the longer he looked in the mirror the wider he could see Alex’s smile getting.

“Alright, I’ll give you this one. It doesn’t look too bad.”

“Right!” Alex was practically giddy as he stepped closer to look at Michael’s eyes through the mirror. Their hands brushed lightly as they both leaned against the sink. “I didn’t think it would look this good, but now I’m starting to wish you’d had this look in high school.”

Michael turned to face him then, bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes roamed over Alex’s face. Maybe this whole nostalgia thing wasn’t so bad when you had someone to share it with.

He grabbed the eyeliner from Alex’s hand before he could be stopped and held it above his head with an eager grin as if Alex couldn’t reach it easily. “Your turn.”

Michael had been banished to the sofa while Alex washed out the dye. He’d willingly volunteered to help but Alex wanted the finished look to be a surprise. Not that he could blame him. If it looked terrible at least it would give Alex the chance to kick Michael out of the house before he even saw it.

Not that that would actually happen, Michael had done an excellent job and the finished article would prove just that, thank you very much.

The muffled noise of the shower turning on and off filtered through the walls as he peered around the room. He’d seen the inside of Alex’s house enough times now to know the layout but not enough to know its contents.

The colourful spines of the neat pile of books stood out against the brown of the table they were sitting on. Their titles were too small to read from across the room but it made Michael wonder what kind of books Alex read now. He’d never thought to ask in all the time he’d been back in Roswell. Did he still read fantasy books like the ones Michael used to see him get lost in for hours at a time? Or were they non-fiction, filled with facts about a world that Alex had always longed to explore.

There were a few plants dotted around the room which Michael was nerdy enough to know the names of. They weren’t the type that required much watering though Michael could almost picture a green-thumbed Alex taking care to provide them what they needed.

But taking up most of the space was a whole range of musical items. A turntable alongside a crowded box of records, because of course that’s how Alex liked to listen to his music. A pair of speakers on either of side of his keyboard, a thick black pair of headphones sitting atop the black and white keys. And guitars. So many guitars.

I mean come on, four of them in one room? Alex was practically begging him to pick one up.

Three of them were next to the keyboard, held neatly on their individual stands, but it was the guitar standing alone that caught his attention. It was leaning almost precariously against the wall, looking like it could slide to the floor at the smallest touch but he had a feeling it had been there for a while. It was the one Alex had tried to gift to him all those months ago, after all.

Before he could stop himself, he pushed off the sofa and edged towards the guitar. Its case had been unzipped just enough at the top to show the dark brown wood poking through and Michael didn’t hesitate to unzip it the rest of the way.

Plucking a few of the strings made Michael wonder if maybe Alex had played it recently. It seemed to be perfectly in tune. It had been a little while now since he’d held a guitar, let alone played one, but this one seemed to fit so naturally in his hands.

The faint whirring of the hair dryer could now be heard through the bedroom door and Michael couldn’t help himself. His fingers fell into place effortlessly and played a tune that he once played for Alex all those years ago. It wasn’t hard to remember, it was one of the only songs he actually knew by heart and the muscle memory of the notes hadn’t failed him yet.

As the strings vibrated under his fingertips, the rest of the world fell away, the soft melody filling the room. He’d missed this, the calm that would wash over him whenever he used to play and for a brief moment as his fingers slipped between the C and G chords he wondered why he ever gave the guitar back.

“Suits you.” Alex’s quiet voice interrupted the notes and Michael almost dropped the guitar in his surprise. He hadn’t heard the hairdryer stop, hadn’t heard the door creaking open but the way Alex was smiling at him told him he had nothing to feel embarrassed about.

The smile wasn’t what he was focused on though.

The inky black hair had turned out so much better than he’d ever imagined. The dark strands contrasted his lightly tanned skin so starkly and Michael could tell that he had taken a few extra minutes to style it a little.

His eyeliner was mismatched and uneven - one eye having been done badly by Michael before Alex, fearing the idea of getting poked in the eye again, had confiscated the pencil and finished the second eye perfectly by himself.

He looked like his innocent seventeen year old self.

But also not. His features were matured enough to set the illusion off-kilter just slightly.

He looked incredible.

Michael wasn’t sure when his legs had made the decision to stand up, but here he was, two feet away from Alex, staring at him with his mouth half open. Alex took the silence the wrong way though as he gave a nervous laugh, feeling his cheeks redden.

He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck and the movement knocked Michael out of his daze. He slowly dragged his eyes away from Alex’s hair and down to his lips, watching them form the words as he spoke. “It looks terrible, doesn’t it?”

Had Alex even looked in the mirror? Had he not seen what Michael was seeing right now?

And it’s not even like the hair and makeup changed him that much. He’s looked beautiful the entire time Michael has known him, he just looked beautiful with his old style right this second rather than his new one.

Maybe Michael just always thought Alex looked most comfortable in his seventeen-year-old style, it was a look he had precisely crafted for himself to best represent the person he was. The black jumpers with bold patterns, the makeup, the piercings. It was the look of a rebellious kid who didn’t want to fit in.

His current style was created through circumstance, through being forced to take on a duty that he never chose but has now made his own. And his style was his own now too, the muted colours much more reserved, but still his choice.

But now standing before him was a beautiful combination of both of those people and oh dear, he’s never really stopped thinking about Alex this way, has he? And more important, how long has he been staring at him without saying a single word?

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his throat had gone strangely dry.

“No.” He whispered in reply as he stepped closer, his feet making their own decisions again and he suddenly couldn’t stop himself. In that moment he couldn’t remember why he had been holding back for all of these months when the person he wanted most in the world was standing right in front of him.

He kissed him before he could stop himself, hands gently grabbing Alex’s face, feeling soft lips against his own. It felt like he was seventeen again, kissing for the first time in the darkened rooms of the UFO Emporium but as his hands crept up into Alex’s hair the sound of a distant car horn through the open kitchen window broke through his dream-filled haze and he realised what he had just done.

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” Michael stuttered out as he pulled away with a gasp, instantly embarrassed at how impulsive he had been. He bit his bottom lip as his eyes stayed trained on Alex’s chest, not daring to lift them any higher. In one tiny moment of weakness he had broken their agreement and he wanted to kick himself for how stupid that had been.

It had been decided that they would just be friends. No drama, no fighting and definitely no sex. The relationship between them would be strictly supportive and platonic and as much as Michael had longed for them to be something, he had agreed for the sake of keeping any kind of connection with Alex. And turns out, he couldn’t even give him that.

If he had looked up he would have seen the surprise on Alex’s face. Surprise that Michael had kissed him - sure - but more the surprise that Michael had pulled away so abruptly. And far too soon for that matter.

Before Alex could talk himself out of it, he took Michael’s face in his hands and kissed him right back. His heart fluttered as Michael instantly pulled him closer, softer this time, as if they both knew in that moment that there was no rush.

Michael’s entire body tingled, heat filling his chest as Alex lips parted with a tiny breath. He was hardly aware of what his own hands were doing, so desperate to never let go, his knees almost giving out as the rest of the world fell away, leaving them in their intimate, almost forbidden, moment.

As his fingers ran through the soft strands of the freshly dyed hair, Michael was reminded of every other time they had performed this same action, how natural this felt, how safe, like coming home.

“I would have let you dye my hair weeks ago if I’d known that’s all it would take.” Alex sighed as they parted, still only inches from Michael’s face, not daring to move any further lest the spell be broken. He hadn’t seen the day going this way when Michael had turned up on his doorstep with his mischievous grin but he wasn’t about to complain.

Michael gave a small huff of laughter at the unexpected comment, his hands itching to pull Alex closer. He had been wanting to do that for a long time, but he’d been good. He’d stuck to their agreement and given Alex the space to move on, no matter how many times he’d wanted to rebuild that abandoned bridge between them. But it seems the long awaited move had now finally been made and he didn’t have to hold back anymore.

Because here Alex was, black hair, dark eyeliner, standing in front of him with that nervous post-kiss smile that Michael had missed for far too long and now he never wanted to let this moment go.

It seems today had definitely been third time lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

Thank you for reading 💜✨

#roswell new mexico #alex manes fic #michael guerin fic #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #my fic

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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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pastelwitchling · 4 years ago

Text

Brother in Arms Chapters: 1/2

Also on ao3 ❤

***

It was past midnight at the Pony when Alex got the call.

Michael was at the counter, coming in and out of Isobel and Maria’s conversation as he scanned the bar, looking for one particular man who said he’d try to come in late. Because they did that now. Offhandedly mention whether or not they were likely to see each other. It was a nice change of pace.

Michael straightened in his seat when he saw Alex finally come in, his hair windswept, his shoulders scrunched against the cold outside. He caught his eyes, and Alex smiled softly, weaving through the crowd towards him.

“Hi,” Michael said.

“Hey,” Alex murmured, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. They held each other’s gaze for several long seconds before Alex looked down, tugging off his scarf. Progress.

Michael cleared his throat and adjusted himself slightly on his chair, subtly scooting closer to Alex, to get a whiff of his vanilla scent, to feel the roughness of his jeans against his own. Alex seemed to notice and he turned slightly so that his left knee just barely grazed Michael’s.

Michael began to smile until he noticed the slight tension in Alex’s shoulders, the pinch of his brows, the pensive purse of his lips.

He looked back over his shoulder at Isobel and Maria, and when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, said, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Just feel a little off, don’t know why.”

“Maybe you’re just tired from work?”

Alex hummed, unconvinced. “Maybe.”

For the next half-hour, Michael tried getting Alex to smile in earnest. He kept close to him, listening to his day and telling him all about his own. He pretended to swoon (absolutely not actually swooning on the inside) when Alex mentioned his team following his orders, and made a sexual innuendo about Alex’s commands and authority. At one point, he even got a laugh from Alex that made his heart flutter in an embarrassing way that he swore never to mention aloud to anyone.

Michael was sure he looked like a lovesick idiot, smiling at Alex like he did when they were seventeen and he had managed to make the emo kid giggle, but he didn’t care. Moments like these, when they got to just be happy to have each other, weren’t as common as Michael wanted them to be. Some words were still too hard to say, and some confessions still stuck in Michael’s throat, keeping him frozen when he longed more than anything to cling to Alex and never let him go.

But if he’d known the kind of call Alex would get in the next few minutes, he would’ve held on and kept him on that stool, kept him from picking up. He would’ve taken him to the airstream, and they would’ve gotten lost in each other’s touch, a night they probably wouldn’t have talked about the next morning, if only to give him one more night of peace.

But how could he have predicted, when Alex’s phone had rung, the way Alex’s smile would dim at the sight of the caller on the screen? The way panic would cross his expression, however trained he was to hide it? The way his jaw would clench and he’d mutter an excuse under his breath to take his call outside? How could Michael have predicted coming out onto the Wild Pony’s back porch to see Alex sitting on the front step, numbly writing out a date and address in Nashville?

“Okay, Katie,” he said into his phone. “Yeah. . . . Eleven. . . . Mm.”

Michael heard crying on the other end of the line. Alex listened silently, staring at the address he’d written, mindlessly underlining it over and over, the pen tearing into the paper. Alex didn’t seem to notice.

Michael heard muffled voices, Alex responded with, “I’m going right now. I’ll see you in the morning,” and he hung up.

Michael swallowed. “Alex?”

Alex didn’t looked around at him. “Air Force buddy,” he said, and sniffled. “That was his sister.”

Michael’s shoulders fell. There was only one reason Alex’s military buddy’s family would be calling. He came to sit down beside him.

“Private –”

“I need to pack,” he said, standing. His eyes were dry, his tone calculating. “Get some things ready.” He was already typing something on his phone, and Michael followed to find a list of flights to Nashville.

“O-Okay,” Michael tried. “I can drive you –”

“If anybody asks, can you just tell them I’ll be out of town for a few days?” he said, eyes on his phone, his other hand stuffing the piece of paper into his pocket.

“Uh – yeah, but, Alex –”

“Thanks, Guerin,” he said, climbing into his car. Michael’s mouth hung open on a silent sentence as Alex drove away.

It was a freezing late morning in Nashville, as if even the weather was lamenting the loss of a great man. Alex sat a few chairs down from Katie and her mother, both pairs of blue eyes filled with tears. The sun caught off Katie’s blonde hair, turning it gold, just as Scott’s used to be.

Scott had joined the military a week before Alex had. He had been a ball of light and energy the day he’d arrived, catching Alex’s eyes with a smile and sticking by his side ever since. Alex, who had wanted to keep his head down and get the work done, to rise in ranks with the sole purpose of defeating those who thought they could beat him down, was taken hostage by this man’s piercing blue eyes and his kind voice.

“You and me, Manes,” he’d said that first night, taking the bed beside Alex’s, “we’re brothers.”

“I don’t need another brother,” Alex had murmured, glad for the dark that hid his blush.

Scott had smiled. “Then I’ll be more.”

And he had been. It felt strange to go through the months of basics, feeling like part of him was missing unless Scott was there. This blond, disastrous, one-man hurricane had been the same way; always a little more out of control, always a little easier to slip up, always scolded more by the sergeant unless Alex was there to reel him in. He’d been, in every way, Alex’s opposite. As they had lain on their stomachs one night, Alex had told him as much.

“Which makes it all the more incredible how much we connect,” Scott had said. He’d had a fondness in his eyes then that Alex had pretended not to notice. “That’s us, Manes, just like I’d said we’d be. More.”

When Alex had left, they’d kept in touch as much as they were able. A call here, a letter there. Neither of them ever feeling like they were separated at all. No “I miss you”s, just ventures relayed and heartaches confessed.

“Next time I see you, I’ll have a word with that cowboy of yours,” Scott had told him on their last discreet phone call. Alex had laughed and asked him when that visit would come.

“Soon,” Scott had promised. “I’ll come running home to you, brother.”

As Alex watched them lower the black coffin into the ground, those words echoed on repeat in his head. Scott’s team stood, saluting as the bugle played and Alex heard faint sniffles and cries behind him, all turned to background noise.

It felt wrong. Knowing a force of nature like Scott Mason rested in a wooden box, the American flag folded and handed to his mother who clung to it now as if it was her son himself. Alex didn’t take his eyes off the coffin until it was thoroughly buried. People around him began to disperse, but Alex sat there, his fingers quickly growing numb with the cold.

He buried his chin deeper into his scarf, Scott’s laugh in his ears. He would be returning to Roswell in a few hours.

Would that be okay, Scott? he thought, hoping his friend could read his thoughts as he always managed to do, and answer him. If I left?

He had yet to shed a tear, and felt a strange tingling in his chest, like something was building up to be released but couldn’t quite make it through the surface. He wondered if he should stop by his buddy’s favorite burger place around the street before he left, get a double cheeseburger with fries, and dip them in a milkshake.

“Try it,” he’d encouraged him on their first leave. “You’ll thank me.”

Alex blew a tiny breath, a white cloud forming before his face. He muttered, “Thanks, brother.”

“Alex,” someone gasped, “what’d you do?”

Alex looked up, blinking out of his thoughts. He realized almost everyone around them had gone, and Katie stood next to him now, her blue eyes looking down with worry. He followed her gaze and saw that he’d carved into the back of his hand with his thumb, a faint line of blood trickling down the torn skin.

“Oh,” he said. He wiped his hand against his jacket as he stood. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Katie searched his face. Her lower lip trembled as she opened her mouth. “I –” she cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine what he meant to you.”

Alex nodded. It’s not real, he thought. Scott’s fine. He’s not the kind of man who dies. I’m just having a nightmare. I’ll wake up, and my brother will be fine.

Still, even as he thought so, he said, “Your brother loved you, Katie.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffled as she roughly wiped her face. “He loved you, too.”

Alex held out his arms, and Katie fell in against him, hugging his waist tightly enough to bruise. Alex only wished he could feel any of it.

There was to be a reception. Alex had insisted he would help take care of things while Scott’s mother, Ashley, tried to relax. She’d been frighteningly quiet since Alex had arrived two days ago, but Katie assured him that she spent the nights crying.

“She’s letting it out,” she assured him. “Wears herself out half the time. I just don’t think she’s really processed it yet, but she’s getting there.”

Hours later, after guests had gone, Alex found himself sitting amongst Scott’s immediate family. His mother and sister, his uncles and aunts and a few of his first cousins who were able to fly back into town on short notice.

An untouched cup of wine sat in front of Alex on the table as his family laughed through their tears, recounting stories about Scott, memories of him as a kid, funny letters he’d send back so that none of them would ever worry about him.

“He was a good man,” his uncle said gruffly, keeping his head down to hide his glistening eyes.

Alex nodded, his heart still tingling strangely, not quite letting him breathe. “He was a hero,” he said, and was met with nods and “Hear Hear!”s and more tears. Alex wished he could cry. Why couldn’t he cry?

“I remember when he brought you home, Alex,” Ashley said hoarsely, her smile faint. “I was so sure we were going to get some big news.”

Katie scoffed half-heartedly, leaning her chin on her palm. “Mom made Scott’s favorite ribs and chocolate cupcakes. She was so proud he finally found someone. Then Scott told us you were just his friend, and she kept huffing through dinner.”

The corner of Alex’s lips quirked up. “Sorry.”

Ashley grasped Alex’s arm and gave it a tight squeeze. “Far as I’m concerned, sweetheart, you were the only one Scott ever really loved. I felt it in my bones.” Her smiled faded, and her chuckles turned to sobs. Her forehead came to rest on Alex’s shoulder, and he put a hand on her head, keeping her steady against him.

The rest of the group dissolved into sniffles for the next hour. When Ashley had worn herself out and fallen asleep on the couch, Alex stood and grabbed his jacket.

“You have a flight back to Roswell already?” Katie asked, stretching.

He nodded. “I need to get back.”

She managed a smirk. “To your cowboy?”

He scoffed. “Anything else Scott told you?”

“Just that you never wanted to go back to Roswell during your leaves,” she said. “Said you didn’t think anyone would care. You still think that?”

Alex considered it, and it gave him a headache. He exhaled a soft chuckle. “I can’t think of much right now.”

Her eyes were kind. “I understand.” She heaved a groan that cracked at the end. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fast forward to next year? When all of this is just a bad memory?”

“No,” Alex said, pulling her in for another hug. He sighed against the top of her head. “It’s not bad at all.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Alex,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You’re family, too.”

A lump lodged itself in Alex’s throat. Try as he might, he couldn’t swallow it down. He said nothing as he held Katie tighter.

Michael, Gregory, and Flint met Alex at his house the day he came back to Roswell. Michael sat on the back of his truck as Gregory and Flint leaned against Gregory’s car. Flint’s arms were crossed, Gregory was checking his phone for calls, and Michael was pretending not to be nervous about Alex as he’d been days ago. He tapped his finger on the trunk bench, remembering that morning days ago when he’d come to Alex’s doorstep at the crack of dawn to offer a trip to the airport, and found the airman had already gone.

He had no idea what to expect now. Isobel, Liz, and Maria had wanted to come see him, too, but Gregory had told them that it was better they not crowd him. Michael had gotten to come along for sheer insistence that he wouldn’t leave until he got to see Alex was safe and back in Roswell.

“You heard from him since he got off the plane?” Flint asked at some point.

“No,” was all Gregory said, and the brothers fell silent again. There seemed to be a weight that Michael couldn’t grasp, couldn’t touch and felt pushed down by anyway.

A familiar car rounding the corner into the driveway yanked Michael from his thoughts. He came down from the bench, putting it up as he kept his eyes on Alex behind the steering wheel. He couldn’t discern his expression, even as he parked, opened his door, and pulled out his suitcase.

“Hey,” Michael said, trying to keep his voice light. He was the only one to speak.

Alex managed a press of his lips, his eyes spacing out almost at once. Michael held out his hand for his suitcase, and Alex seemed to realize too late that it had been taken from him. He touched Michael’s arm in thanks.

Gregory and Flint seemed to know what to do better than Michael did, which apparently wasn’t much. Gregory patted Alex’s back with a sigh while Flint stayed behind them. Michael didn’t understand why until they’d gotten to the porch, Alex fishing for his keys, and his eyes suddenly fluttered. He swayed and Flint readily caught his arm, steadying him as if he’d been expecting it.

Michael opened his mouth in a gasp, but Flint shook his head minutely. Don’t talk about it, he seemed to be saying. He won’t be able to answer you.

Michael hesitated, fighting against every fiber of his being that longed to carry Alex inside himself so that he didn’t have to take another step on his own.

Flint released Alex as soon as he was on his feet again, and Alex opened the door and walked on inside as if nothing had happened. Michael stayed close and set the suitcase beside Alex’s couch as he took a seat. Flint went to open the windows, letting in the light, while Gregory said he would go make them some tea.

Michael sat down beside Alex, but Alex was staring into the distance, unseeing, his brows pinched slightly. Michael wanted to trace the path down the bridge of his nose, hoping it would ease whatever storm was raging in his head, but didn’t dare touch him.

Flint leaned against the wall, looking out the window as rustling sounded from the kitchen. When Michael risked speaking again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you hungry? I – I can go get you something.”

But Alex was already shaking his head, waking with a deep inhale. “No, no, thanks, Guerin.”

Flint tilted his head. “If you want him to stay here, Alex, I can go grab –”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” Alex said, and went back to staring at nothing.

Flint nodded, unsurprised. “Yeah.”

Gregory came back a few minutes later, holding a tray of four mugs.

“Thanks,” Michael muttered as he handed him one. Alex hugged his with his hands.

“Hey, hey,” Flint said, setting his cup down and gently prying Alex’s fingers from around the steaming ceramic. “You’ll burn yourself, brother.”

“Hm? Oh.”

Gregory sat down in the armchair across from the couch. He rested his elbows on his thighs, tapping a finger against his own mug. A few minutes of silence, then –

“Alex,” he said, “do you want to . . . talk about –”

“No,” Alex said at once. “I don’t, I – I can’t.” He didn’t seem angry or upset. Just tired. There was a numbness to his expression that almost scared Michael.

He hesitated, then put a hand on Alex’s back. Then he dared to rub soothing circles, letting his eyes roam the airman, reassuring himself that Alex was okay. That was when he saw the line of dried blood on the back of his hand, his skin carved into and torn.

“Alex,” he breathed, holding up his hand. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muttered, his brows furrowed as if just now remembering that this injury was here. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Michael gaped. “You did this to yourself?”

Flint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Leave it alone, Guerin.”

“Manes –”

“He’s fine,” Gregory said, his voice calm and intent. “It’s fine.”

Michael wanted to argue, to demand if they were crazy, if they weren’t seeing what Michael was seeing. But Alex just let his hand fall from Michael’s and patted his shoulder consolingly as if he was the one that had lost a friend. And Michael’s words caught in his throat.

Alex’s head fell back. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he heaved a deep breath. “I . . . uh . . .” he sniffled, “you guys should go. I know you have work, I don’t want to keep you.”

Michael frowned. “Alex . . .”

He thought Gregory and Flint would definitely argue, that they’d refuse to leave their brother like this, but Gregory asked, “And you? You sure you don’t want one of us to get you something from the Crashdown?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I’m just gonna . . . head to bed. I’m tired after the plane.”

Flint nodded. “Okay. You have our numbers.”

“I know.”

“What? No,” Michael said, moving closer to Alex on the couch. “I’m staying here.”

“Guerin,” Alex said. “I already told you, I’m –”

“You’re not fine,” Michael nearly yelled.

“Guerin –” Gregory tried.

“He carved into his own skin! I’m staying!”

“Okay,” Flint said, nudging his chin at the door. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

Alex watched, only half-there, as Michael stood and followed Flint, hesitant to leave his airman at all.

The second the door closed, Michael demanded, “He’s not okay.”

“No kidding,” Flint frowned, a lot quieter than Michael was. “His brother just died, how do you think he’s doing?”

He smirked humorlessly. “And you two just wanna leave him. Let him fend for himself. After all this time, you still don’t care about what happens to him, do you?”

Flint tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Who do you think Alex is? Some defenseless kid? You do realize he’s an Air Force Captain, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Big tough military man, I get it.”

“No,” Flint said easily. “You don’t.” He pressed a finger to Michael’s chest. “Don’t pretend you know what losing a brother-in-arms is like, especially for someone like Alex. Someone like us. You have no idea the kind of weight that’s on our shoulders.”

Michael faltered. He licked his lips. “All the more reason,” he said, “to stay with him.”

Flint considered Michael, and began to chuckle. “Wow,” he said. “You really think that little of him?”

Michael frowned. “He hurt himself.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Flint said, like that was supposed to be a reassurance. “You have no idea what he’s going through, but Greg and I do.”

“But this guy –”

“Yeah,” he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Looks like this one was important. But he learned to live with it a long time ago. He’s not as broken as you think he is.”

Michael couldn’t let it go so easily. He remembered too well a conversation he and Alex had had months ago, in his bunker.

“I need to believe in a reason to stay.” What if this was it? The last straw? What if Alex was on a countdown?

He swallowed. “I’m going back inside.”

Flint grabbed his arm. Michael glared at him, but he was unrelenting. “Listen to me. I know you care about him –”

“I love him,” Michael said fiercely. Flint’s gaze didn’t waver. Always as prepared for battle as Alex.

When he spoke next, his words were quieter, but no less commanding. “Then let him breathe. I know Alex doesn’t always say what he means, but he means this. That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

Michael glared. “I know Alex is strong.”

To his surprise, Flint’s gaze slightly softened. He shook his head, as if Michael had completely missed the point. “That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

Alex woke at twilight to find he’d fallen asleep on his couch, his clothes and prosthetic still on. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. He looked around, the pale light behind the blinds casting the house into dark shadows.

He shouldn’t have, but Alex lied back down, staring at the ceiling with one hand covering the other on his stomach. He heard nothing but his own breathing, and then not even that.

“Hey, Manes, have you ever been in love?”

Alex closed his eyes against the memory, and immediately, his mind filled with images of himself and Scott laying on opposite sides of his bed, staring at another ceiling.

He forced himself up again, furiously scrubbing his face. He sat there a second longer, staring at nothing and thinking of a mess of things, from what time he had to wake up tomorrow to errands he had to calls and texts and emails he probably had to answer –

“Guerin,” he called faintly, and was answered with silence. His shoulders fell. Oh yeah . . . He had asked them to leave. He knew it was for the best, there wasn’t really anything he thought he could say to any of them, but just saying Michael’s name brought him a slight peace that he couldn’t explain and which vanished as quickly as it came when Alex couldn’t find him. That had happened a lot in the past decade.

Scott’s smile came back to him. “That the cowboy I should be jealous of?”

Alex exhaled shakily, and pushed past the memory. He changed into his sweats, took his prosthetic off, and curled up in bed. He lay awake under the covers for several minutes that felt like hours, cramming a million other things into his mind to force out the one thought that he knew he couldn’t handle right now, and eventually, the darkness had mercy on him, and sleep took over.

Michael wanted to be useful. He’d spent the past two days wandering the junkyard, finding things to do that didn’t really need doing, if only to keep moving. He may have broken down several cars and driven Sanders crazy, but he was losing his mind.

At one point, he’d snapped, gotten in his truck, and made it halfway to Alex’s house before he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road and hit his forehead against the steering wheel.

“That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

“I know Alex is strong.”

“That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “What does that mean?” he growled through grit teeth. Michael knew who Alex was, what he was. What did that matter?

Michael all but slammed the gearshift back again, and turned a corner to the Project Shepherd bunker instead. If he couldn’t take care of Alex, he could at least get through some of the files they had waiting there, look into a few leads so Alex didn’t feel like he had to himself.

The last thing Michael had been expecting when he’d pulled up to the hidden entrance was to find a familiar car parked there already. His heart leapt into his throat, and he almost stepped out of the truck without turning it off.

He wrenched the door open, and came down the stairs to find the white lights already on. Alex was at the far end of the bunker, typing at a computer. Michael stopped, staring.

Alex glanced up and gave him a quick, small smile. He was surrounded with open files, more than half of them marked. He shrugged a shoulder. “They gave me a week leave,” he said. “Figured I’d get something done.”

Michael didn’t know where to start. Are you any better? Have you slept? Did you want me to stay?

In the end, he managed a quirk of his lips and a light, “Don’t you military men ever rest?” He pulled up a chair next to Alex. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. ‘I don’t know what rest means, Guerin. I can go for weeks, Guerin. I don’t actually need to be on leave, Guerin.’”

He smiled, but Alex did not seem amused, his eyes unmoving from the screen. “No,” he said simply. “I definitely need it. Way I’m feeling, I might just end up shooting anybody in a uniform.”

Michael faltered. Alex’s tone was light, but something in his eyes darkened, something frightening that Michael wasn’t used to seeing on his airman’s face. He hesitated, then, because he wanted to do something and didn’t know what, he reached out and covered Alex’s hand with his own.

Alex didn’t smile or look at Michael. Instead, he turned his hand over in Michael’s and gripped his fingers so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Michael tilted his head, trying to discern his thoughts. “Alex?”

He blinked. “Hm?”

“About . . . uh . . . that Mason guy –”

“Shh, shhh,” he shook his head, his eyes shut tight. “We don’t have to talk about that, I don’t want to talk about that.”

Michael stared. If he wasn’t so aware of Alex’s every move, of every inch of the airman’s skin that touched his own, he might’ve missed the way Alex’s fingers slightly trembled in his. But he was, so he didn’t.

He swallowed and nodded. He pulled Alex’s head in towards his with his other hand, and kissed his forehead.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

Alex’s grip did not loosen, his eyes did not open, his breathing did not calm for two whole minutes. Michael raised his other hand to rest between Alex’s shoulder blades, running up and down his spine, turning his nose into Alex’s hair and inhaling his scent.

Alex turned his head slightly so that Michael’s lips hovered above his. Michael’s eyes fell to Alex’s mouth, his own falling open. He could feel Alex’s hot breath against his bottom lip. His own breathing quickened as he thought about fitting his mouth against Alex’s, tasting his tongue, running a hand up his shirt and feeling his naked skin as he hadn’t gotten to do in over a year.

Michael wanted to be useful, and Alex always seemed able to breathe better when they were together. Maybe this would be useful. That, and Michael just really, really wanted it.

Somehow, as he always did, Alex was able to read his mind. His dark, hooded eyes looked up at Michael through long lashes. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You want to help me feel better, Guerin?”

Michael’s eyes fluttered as he nodded, entranced. He leaned in, their mouths open. His breathing turned more and more ragged as the soft press of Alex’s lips against his own filled his gut with a fire. It had been too long since he’d gotten to touch.

Against Michael’s lips, Alex whispered, “Then help me,” and slowly closed their mouths in a kiss.

Michael’s eyes fell shut and a moan escaped his lips as he kissed Alex again, then again. He reached up, taking Alex’s face in his hands as he tilted his head, devouring his mouth.

“Baby,” he breathed against Alex’s lips between kisses, unable and unwilling to keep it in.

Alex whimpered at the nickname, and the sound spurred Michael on. Alex took Michael’s wrists, as if silently begging him not to leave. As if Michael would ever go anywhere.

“I,” Alex managed, “I want more. Touch me, Guerin.”

Michael looked at Alex then. His expression was filled with lust, his lips kiss-swollen, making Michael’s cock twitch in his jeans. He bit his lower lip, kissed Alex again, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s get back to the airstream –”

But Alex was already shaking his head, moving out of his chair. He worked on the buttons of his jeans, and without any hesitation at all, pushed them and his underwear down, revealing his half-hard length. Michael’s mouth fell open, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, imagining the taste of Alex on his tongue.

“Now,” he panted. “I want you now.”

Alex climbed onto Michael’s lap, his naked, smooth, hairy skin against the hard fabric of Michael’s jeans. Michael was fully hard now as his hands slowly rose up Alex’s thighs, reveling in the touch of his warm skin and imagining his body against his own. Then Alex undid the first two buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground. He was now completely naked as he straddled Michael, down to his toes. Michael was sure he would die.

Alex took Michael’s face in his hands, crashing their mouths together. He moaned against Michael’s lips as he grinded into his hardened, clothed cock.

“C’mon,” he breathed, his nimble fingers working on Michael’s belt. “Take them off. I want you to fuck me hard.”

“Alex,” Michael groaned, and in one rough tug, managed to tear off his belt. He pushed his pants and underwear down, releasing himself. As soon as his cock rubbed against Alex’s, his eyes rolled back into his head and he all but screamed.

“I’m ready,” Alex said between hard, wet, open kisses. He ran a hand up Michael’s stomach, his chest, scratching through the trail of hair and digging his nails into Michael’s nipples. “Please, Guerin. Fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.” And he did as he’d fantasized doing for the past year. He aligned his cock to Alex’s hole with one hand, his other coming around to grab Alex’s ass, feeling his soft skin in his hands.

Alex choked on a scream as Michael took him in all the way, his hands gripping Michael’s face tightly against his neck where Michael got to bite and suck and lick and kiss as much as he wanted. When the airman was ready, Michael thrusted softly, not wanting to hurt him.

But Alex pressed his lips against Michael’s ear and commanded, “Harder, baby. I want to feel you for days.”

The thought was enough to erase all other from Michael’s mind, and he wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, his other still gripping Alex’s cheek as he thrusted up hard, Alex coming down just as roughly, as eagerly.

Alex came a split second before Michael, and only through Michael’s sheer force of will that Alex enjoy it for as long as possible that he managed to keep himself from letting go in those first few seconds. They breathed heavily into the small space between them, and Michael leaned in, taking Alex’s lips in long, lazy kisses.

Alex was still running a hand through Michael’s curls, making his eyes flutter. When their breaths evened and Alex’s movements slowed, Michael looked up to find his airman staring at his chest, his brows pinched together slightly. His eyes were unfocused.

Michael felt a fear he’d almost forgotten about climb into his throat now. He swallowed it down, and put his fingers under Alex’s chin, lifting his gaze.

“Hey,” he whispered, moving his hand to cup Alex’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek. “Look at me, baby. Look at me, I’m right here.”

“Um,” Alex said and cleared his throat, closing his eyes as if trying to wake himself from his haze. His fists laid curled against Michael’s chest. He brought his head down, his forehead against Michael’s chin as he exhaled shakily. He looked around. “My clothes, I –”

“I’ve got ‘em,” Michael said immediately, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. He’d wanted to stay with Alex like this, naked and holding each other, a little longer. Instead, he used his powers to bring Alex’s clothes right up to him.

But before he got dressed, Alex curled in against Michael, pressing his nose to Michael’s cheek, his lips brushing the cowboy’s jaw. Michael wrapped his arms around him, taking his chance to press light kisses to Alex’s bare shoulder.

Alex seemed to need a second to straighten his spine and brace himself before he grabbed his clothes from midair and pulled them on. He gently moved off Michael so that he could do the same, and when they were both dressed, Michael grabbed a file, not knowing what else to do. He kept glancing at Alex who was staring at his computer screen, his fist against his lips as he seemed too distracted to keep doing whatever he was doing.

Finally, Michael couldn’t take it anymore, and he said, “Tell me what to do.”

He knew he sounded desperate, his demand more of a plea, but he didn’t care. Because Alex wasn’t acting like Alex, and he was breaking, but he wasn’t breaking, and it was all very scary and not where Michael wanted his airman to be.

Alex frowned. “Do?”

“To fix this,” he said, and winced at how stupid it sounded. But he couldn’t stop himself. “O-Or make it . . . I don’t know, easier. Tell me what I have to do, I’ll do anything, Alex.”

Alex’s look was unreadable as Michael held his gaze. Then something shifted, something turned sadder, and suddenly, it was Alex who held Michael. “I feel like there’s a hole in my chest, Michael. And it’ll never heal.” His lips quirked in a soft, helpless smile. “And there’s no fixing that.”

Michael watched, speechless and unable to do anything as Alex closed his laptop with a sigh, put his hands in his pockets, and made his way out of the bunker.

Alex finished scrubbing down his counter, and looked up, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The kitchen, like his living room, bedroom, guestroom, and bathrooms, was spotless. The sky outside the window was pitch black, the wind still rustling through the empty branches and the yellow, dead grass. The world still turning, and not turning at all.

Alex’s phone on the table behind him buzzed, the screen lighting with new messages. Alex picked it up, scanning the texts. Flint said he would meet him at the Pony tomorrow night after they were both done at the base for drinks, Gregory said he’d be bringing over lunch so they could eat together, Clay left him a voicemail, telling him to call when he had the chance. It was Liz and Maria who asked if he was okay, if he needed them to come over right away.

Alex asked them not to. His brothers hadn’t asked if he was okay. He was grateful; he didn’t have an answer right now. He felt like he never might.

“Miss me already, Manes?”

Alex shut his eyes. The edges of his phone dug into his palms. The last phone call he and Scott had had, what had they said? He didn’t remember the exact conversation. Shouldn’t he have remembered?

But no. There was a moment from their last meeting that stuck in his mind.

“Start counting down, brother,” Scott had told him, a whispered eagerness in his voice. “I’m coming to Roswell next. You just tell me who I need to beat up.”

“What’re you coming here for?” Alex had said. “I’ll come see you wherever you want. Just pick anywhere else.”

“No,” Scott had said more softly. “No more running, Manes.”

“A drive,” Alex said, hoping the sound of a voice, even if it was his own, would keep the memories at bay. “I need a drive.”

The drive wasn’t helping. Alex had the window open, the icy wind biting his face and burning his eyes. Alex’s hands were clenched painfully tight around the steering wheel, his fingers numb with cold. His jaw was clenched, that small trickling in his chest turned to painful hammering now.

Scott’s letters. I’ll never get them again. His secret phone calls. That phone will never ring now. And he had been planning to come to Roswell. I should’ve brought him sooner. All the days on leave, I should’ve brought him. Roswell would’ve been better with him here.

“I should’ve brought him,” Alex said, his words breaking in his own ears.

Alex clenched his jaw, and pressed harder on the gas pedal. Scott would never see Roswell now, would never meet his friends, or know Michael. Places Alex could’ve taken him, the stars he could’ve shown him. They were brighter in Roswell than anywhere else in the world. And now his brother would never see them.

Headlights. Alex saw a pair of headlights far ahead, the large truck driving, for some reason, on the wrong lane. Or was Alex on the wrong one? It didn’t matter. He didn’t move. The gas pedal was on the floor of the car now.

As the truck neared, the headlights growing larger, brighter, the thought kept coming to Alex; if he could see Scott again, if all the pain and loss would finally end, it would all be okay. That was what he wanted, right? To stop the pain?

BEEP BEEEEEEP!

“No more running, Manes.”

Alex gasped, the realization of what he was doing hitting him like an explosion, and he wrenched the steering wheel aside at the last second. The car slowly came to a stop as the angry trucker’s honks faded into the distance behind him.

Alex’s trembling hands fell off the steering wheel as he slumped in his seat. Tears streamed down his face, his own ragged breathing like thunder in his ears in the silence around him.

He didn’t want to do this alone. Not this time. His hands still shaking, Alex turned the ignition back on.

Michael couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing in his bed the past several hours before he’d given up on the idea of resting, and he went down to his bunker to tinker instead. He kept running into dead ends there, too.

When he’d tried and failed to solve a calculated projection for the eighth time, he’d had enough. His mind was flooded with thoughts of Alex, his dark eyes, his quiet words, his naked body and the way he’d curled against Michael, eager to stay close.

Michael let the pen fall from his hands. He needed to go to the Pony. Maybe he could get really drunk and forget that, somewhere in his house, Alex was probably locking himself out of his own mind, breaking apart and unwilling to let anyone near him. Because that was what it meant to be a military captain, right? Weather the storm alone? Prove that you were tougher than everyone else? Alex just didn’t need anybody because he’d been through so much worse, was that it?

The thought had him shaking. He pulled his shirt over his head as soon as he’d made it up the ladder. He thought he’d throw any somewhat clean clothes on and go drown his sorrows in a glass . . . then a car pulled up into the junkyard.

The low beams dimmed as the driver’s door opened. It was Alex. The lights turned off, and the moonlight revealed his tear-streaked face, his lower lip trembling, his chest rising and falling as if he could barely breathe. And Michael could see and think of nothing and no one else.

A sob escaped Alex’s lips, and Michael exhaled sharply before running to him. They met in the middle, Alex’s arms around Michael’s shoulders as he cried into the crook of his neck. Michael held him tightly enough that it should’ve hurt, but he didn’t care. He brought a hand up Alex’s neck to rest in the soft strands of his hair, his body trembling. Michael held him tighter.

“I’m right here,” Michael whispered into his neck. “I’m right here, baby.”

Alex wept as Michael had never heard before, his nails clawing into Michael’s back. Michael closed his eyes, reveling in the sting. Because it meant Alex was here, with him, safe and far away from what had taken his brother-in-arms.

“I – I want to see him,” Alex cried. “Just one more time, I want to see him.”

“Shh,” Michael said, rubbing his back soothingly. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Alex buried his face against Michael’s skin, the sounds of his cries in the dark, silent night shattering Michael’s heart, one crack at a time.

In seconds, Michael had the bonfire started. Long after Alex had turned silent, Michael swaying them left and right, he led the airman to a chair and let him soak in the flames. He had his elbows rested on his thighs when Michael came back out, after hurriedly shoving a shirt on, and handed him a bottle.

Alex took it with a murmur of thanks and downed half of it in one gulp. Michael pulled his chair closer and sat down next to him. And he waited.

After a long while of staring into the fire, the gold and orange flames reflected in his dark eyes, Alex quietly said, “I never know what to say. When this happens.” He shook his head. “It’s a repeat, but none of them are the same. You know? Scott wasn’t . . .” he faltered, and closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

His eyes glistened and he wiped the back of his hand against his nose before he went on, “They’re not lumped in together, you know? I remember each of their faces, I remember everything. And I felt it, I – I felt it coming. I know you don’t think it’s possible, but I did. Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

Michael swallowed. “He sounded special.”

Alex’s eyes filled with tears that fell before he could stop them. “He was so good. So brave.” He huffed a sad chuckle. “You would’ve liked him. I mean –” another sniffle “—he hit on me all the time, so I don’t think you would’ve loved him, but . . . you would’ve really liked him, Guerin.” He shook his head. “I should’ve introduced you, I should’ve done so much more for him.”

Michael reached over, gripping Alex’s forearm. “Hey. That’s not on you.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, it is, Guerin. You live with that. Knowing that your family’s on a time limit that’s usually a lot shorter than most people’s. And when it comes, all you can think of is the time you wasted. You don’t know what the good side is anymore, and eventually, they all become enemies because they all kept you apart.”

He huffed, ducking his head as another tear fell. “It’s . . .”

“A lot of weight to carry,” Michael finished, remembering Flint’s words. How much Alex had on his shoulders . . .

And suddenly, as Michael watched this beautiful man, carrying himself only by the memories of the people that had become a part of his heart, by the love he had for this family he’d created for himself, he realized how far apart he and Alex actually were.

He leaned in as a tear rolled down Alex’s cheek, as he was too weary to wipe it away. Michael kissed it, and Alex looked up.

“You’re so . . . grown up,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do. Please, Alex, tell me what to do.” Tell me what to do to keep you.

Alex’s considered him. Then he tugged at Michael’s arm until Michael was against him. Alex rested his head against his shoulder. “Just let me touch you,” he breathed, “for a little longer.”

Michael wrapped Alex in his arms and held him tightly, one hand going up and down his arm, his other hand sliding into his hair. Alex’s hand came up Michael’s chest, as if eager to feel under his shirt, to have that skin-on-skin contact that reassured them like little else did.

“Let me keep you,” Michael whispered into Alex’s hair.

Alex turned his face into Michael’s shoulder. His grip tightened on the cowboy’s body, and for a second, Michael thought he would say yes. Then –

“I should get back.”

Michael’s face fell. “I – I take it back,” he said quickly, “I just want you to stay the night –”

But Alex kissed his jaw softly, then the corner of his mouth, then his lips, effectively silencing him.

When he pulled back, he was cupping Michael’s cheek. “I have work tomorrow,” he said. “All my things are back at the house. Okay?”

Michael nodded, and kissed Alex one more time before letting him up. “I’ll drive you,” he said.

Alex managed a smile. “My car’s here.”

“Then we’ll go in yours.”

“Then you’ll be stuck with me.”

“Yes, please,” Michael breathed, taking hold of Alex’s waist again.

Alex huffed a laugh which quickly turned to a cry. He turned away, covering his face with one hand. When he looked up again, his smile was weak and his eyes were rimmed red.

“I – uh – think I just need to be alone.”

Michael wished he could be angry, frustrated. But instead, all he felt was fear. Alex didn’t seem stubborn to him anymore, just . . . far away. Why? What had changed?

“Hey,” Alex said softly, and pulled him in for another kiss. “I’ll be back. I need you, too.”

Michael swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. But I have no idea how to help you. I don’t even think I know who you are.

“Alex, I . . .” I love you. He’d almost said it. He’d wanted to. But Alex was heartbroken and lost, and that wasn’t what he needed to hear right now. Instead, Michael pulled Alex in one more time, kissing him hungrily.

“I’d do anything for you,” he panted against his lips when they pulled apart again.

Alex nodded, his forehead pressed against Michael’s, and he roughly wiped at his eyes with his forearm before he turned to leave. Michael watched him walk away, already freezing at the loss of his touch. What was wrong with him? What was it that felt so off this time?

“Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

Was that what this was? No, it was different. Michael couldn’t begin to list the ways, but it was different. Alex gave him a soft smile before he climbed into the driver’s seat and disappeared.

The man that made music and smiled blushingly whenever Michael kissed him, and the man that held the world on his shoulders, always one crack away from shattering completely. They’d always been the same to Michael, but something had changed now.

He had once confessed that he couldn’t get used to seeing Alex in his uniform. At the time, he’d played it off as a joke, though something in his heart had stung at the image. And he’d never understood why. Now he did.

“He’s mine,” he said before he could help himself. The silence of the night threatened to engulf him, to keep him quiet. Alex, after all, belonged to a different world. He had a life and identity outside of Roswell, outside of Project Shepherd and music and aliens that had no place for a temperamental, telekinetic cowboy.

Michael didn’t care. He didn’t know where he fit in with all of this, and the painful thudding of his heart served to betray his true fears of never being allowed to belong to the airman, but he didn’t care.

“He’s mine,” he kept repeating, hoping that the words would be enough to make it real. “Alex belongs with me. He’s mine.”

***

I’m exhausted! I might be sharing an IG with y’all soon for my writing/reading. Just in case anyone would like to follow something like that 💖

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tw: self harm #tw: brief suicidal thoughts #malex angst #malex fluff #michael vlamis #tyler blackburn

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

Text

a little bit of belmanes for @excusemyfrenchgh and you’re probably asleep or going to sleep because time zones, so, like, good night/morning depending on when you see this aslkdjfalkdjf

ao3

There was something convenient about having two Manes men on their side.

Alex and Greg were both ungodly intelligent, quick-witted, and good looking. Together--especially after they'd gotten comfortable with each other again--they were an unstoppable force. They could get anything done in an impressive timeframe and even found free time to add in a few jokes. Michael had gone full heart-eyed over it after a couple of meetings and Isobel had to admit he wasn't alone. It was charming.

Greg in particular had already found himself in Isobel's good graces long before he started working with them, but now she felt a little more obsessed with him every time she saw him. He'd make the trip out there every weekend and never failed to text Isobel on the way to say something. Whether it was to ask what her favorite kind of candy was or if she liked bubble tea, he would always show up with something. At first, he'd bring something for everyone, but that changed a couple of months in when he brought her flowers because they reminded him of her. Then they'd started to text a bit more reliably and Isobel felt like a teenager.

"How do I know if he likes me back?" she asked. Michael took a deep breath.

"Are you seriously asking me this? We're not twelve. Also, you're one of the most confident people I've ever met, just ask him," Michael said. Isobel rolled her eyes and scrunched up her nose. He wasn't really a good person to ask anyway, he'd screwed up his relationship with Alex all while knowing they were in love. He wouldn't know how to tell if it hit him in the face.

"I just need to get in the perfect situation where he knows I'm interested," Isobel said, staring at her phone and trying to decide what to say. Greg had let her know he was going to work out and so she had around thirty minutes left to come up with a good response. "I think I'm going to change into something that looks like I also work out and send him a sexy selfie."

"I'm leaving," Michael said before she could finish her sentence, grabbing his things and standing up. She scoffed in mock-offense.

"Do you think I'm too old to send thirst traps?" she asked. Michael looked more than a little scandalized at the idea of that and started heading for the door.

"Bye!"

Isobel laughed and slid off the chair and headed towards her bedroom. It felt like a solid idea, as good as any. She changed into something that she would typically go to yoga with her mom in and maybe splashed a bit of water on her face to give the impression that she had actually done something. It took her about ten minutes to get a picture worth sending.

And, it was worth it, because she got one back.

Greg's response was him from the shoulders up and from a hellish middle-aged man angle, but he made it work due to his smile and the fact that he was tinted red from exertion and glistening with sweat. It came with the message of 'great minds think alike' and it was cheesy and didn't add anything to the conversation and Isobel found herself stomping excitedly like a teenager. She liked that feeling. She never really got to experience that before.

When she was an actual teenager, she'd been too scared to date anyone considering the whole alien thing. And then with Noah, it'd all moved so quickly. They met and within the year they were married despite all the questions from her brothers which, honestly, should've been a red flag. It didn't matter. She was allowing herself to feel it now.

For the next couple of days, they sent pictures back and forth and if some were a little more risque than the others, neither of them mentioned it. Isobel got pictures of him in bed, of a burn scar on his hip (totally relevant because she was baking), of him in his cute little teacher outfit with his cute little button-ups. In return, she sent him full body mirror pictures of her outfit each morning, of her in the bath after a bath bomb (totally relevant because he asked what they looked like), of her drinking coffee each morning to show off her collection of mugs. It was easy and fun and Isobel was on top of the world.

"You look happy," Michael said as she strolled up to him with bagels and coffee in hand. He wiped his hands on his jeans and she was in too good of a mood to think about how gross it was as he reached for his coffee.

"I am happy," she announced, "Greg is coming down today and I'm going to make a move."

"Please not in front of me," Michael said. She rolled her eyes.

"As if you don't do gross shit in front of all of us all the time," she said. Before he had any time to argue, she spoke again. "Don't worry, I don't plan to do anything to hurt your precious little eyes."

"Thank you," he said, giving a playfully exasperated sigh. Isobel smiled and took a sip of her coffee.

The day passed slowly with her anticipation. She refused to let the idea of rejection enter her mind. He was into her and she knew it. And, well, if he wasn't, it didn't matter.

They all met up at Alex's cabin in the woods where they always met up since Max blew up the last one. That being said, he was allowed to know where the cabin was and he typically joined their get-togethers via video chat. It was Alex's rule and Isobel personally found it hilarious.

Greg showed up later than everyone else like always and Isobel met him at the door, flashing a smile and receiving a shy one in response. He held out a mug with a dragon design on it.

"I saw this, thought you'd like it," Greg said. Isobel smiled as she took it from him.

"Thank you, I love it."

No one commented on it seeing as they'd stopped finding it joke-worthy after the first few times and they quickly got to work. Alex and Greg got out their computers. Alex the more tech-savvy of the two, but that didn't mean Greg didn't know what he was doing.

They spoke of Mr. Jones, Deep Sky, Project Shepard, the overwhelming and looming threat of literally everything, etc. It'd become something redundant at this point, but Isobel didn't care if it meant seeing Greg every weekend.

An hour in, he rolled his shoulders and tilted his head as if it was starting to get uncomfortable. Isobel saw her way in.

"Here, let me help," she offered, moving behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders. If his cheeks and his neck started to burn red, Isobel didn't say anything.

Keyword: Isobel.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, get a room," Rosa scoffed. Michael and Alex both snorted, keeping their eyes off of Isobel and Greg. Isobel tried not to act embarrassed. She wasn't embarrassed.

"Maybe we will," Isobel said easily. Greg took a deep breath and she grinned.

"Oh, God," Max sighed through his video chat. Isobel didn't back down though, dragging her thumb from between his shoulder blades and up to the base of his neck as Greg let out another breath.

"Don't let me stop you, get back to work," Isobel said easily.

And they did, sort of. Greg stopped typing at some point, his eyes closing and his head drooping forward as he let her dig into his shoulders. She didn't stop even when her hands started to hurt.

"Alright, you two are the worst, go home," Alex laughed. Isobel tilted her head and blinked innocently.

"What ever do you mean?"

"Yeah, we'll go," Greg agreed, standing up and closing his laptop in one swift motion, "I'll drive."

Isobel's eyes widened a bit and she looked at Michael, raising her eyebrows. He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her, but she didn't pose any argument to leaving. She gladly went along with it.

"So," she said as she said in the passenger seat of his car, "Should I show you the way to my house?"

Greg looked over at her for a moment and nodded. "I could reciprocate."

And because Isobel liked to have fun, she said, "Reciprocate what?"

Greg took a deep breath and smiled, shaking his head as he backed up to turn the car around and drive out of the woods.

"Literally anything you want."

"I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

To say the least, Isobel lost any doubt that he liked her back.

#belmanes #belmanes fic #isobel evans #gregory manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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captainsassmanes · 4 years ago

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Angst prompt for Alex/Malex: No, I don’t know that.

He was wallowing.

He knew it, wasn’t too proud of it, but was definitely wallowing.

Alex’s first instinct had been to go to the Pony, his place of peace since he was a teenager, running away from Jesse and into the outstretched arms of his best friend. All the Pony seemed to do now was serve him one reminder after another that he simply didn’t want.

His feet had taken him to the Crashdown but he stopped with his hand on the door, a familiar head of shocking blonde hair catching his eye. Isobel had her head thrown back in laughter across a booth from Max and Michael; Max who had his eyes closed tight as his shoulders shook and he held onto Michael. Michael, who smiled softly and shook his head, wiping tears of joy from his eyes.

Alex couldn’t help but smile himself, a small bloom of warmth spreading across his chest. Those three had been through it all, experienced more grief and trauma than anyone should have to in a lifetime. But his smile faded and he dropped his hand, feeling he didn’t have a place here, unsure where he had a place at all.

Michael was happy. Without him. But Michael was happy. That’s what mattered.

He’d ended up in a dark corner of Beam Me Up, sipping on a bitter, black coffee and staring at his hands, lost in thought. His phone buzzed in his pocket, a text from Forrest confirming their plans for dinner that night.

Rubbing his eyes, Alex silently kicked himself. Forrest was an amazing man. They had a shared military experience, shared childhood bullshit, shared love of music. He was so handsome and capable, intelligent and kind. Alex found himself smiling more when he was with Forrest than when he wasn’t but something felt...wrong. It threw him off balance and made him feel as if he was playing a role, not living his own life.

Alex knew what it was, knew why he couldn’t fully relax and open himself up to a relationship with Forrest. But it didn’t matter.

Michael didn’t love him anymore.

Sighing, Alex began texting back, a half-hearted can’t wait with a smile when, “you alright?”

Startled, Alex shoved his phone back in his pocket, surprised he got so caught up someone was able to sneak up on him. Not just anyone, of course.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m okay. You?”

Michael shrugged and looked around, nodding politely at a fellow customer clearly giving him a full body scan. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Alex kept his eyes on his coffee, hands squeezing the ceramic tightly. The silence seemed to stretch endlessly as Alex tried to think of a smooth way to leave without being rude.

“I haven’t seen you much lately.”

Michael took off his hat and pulled out a chair, sitting casually and looking like a model with absolutely no effort. Alex swallowed as he fidgeted in his seat. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“With Forrest?”

There was a harshness to Michael’s voice, a stab of dislike that settled like a rock in Alex’s gut.

“Sometimes, but mostly work.”

Michael nodded again and Alex watched as tension he didn’t notice before seemed to fall away from Michael’s broad shoulders. He watched as an unruly curl fell across Michael’s forehead, a honey, chestnut color. It looked so soft. Made Michael look younger.

“Where’d you go?”

“What?” Alex snapped out of his daze to Michael’s gaze, eyebrows raised in concern.

“You can talk to me, you know? If somethings going on? You can always talk to me. You know that.”

“No, I don’t know that.”

It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“What?” The hurt in Michael’s voice was obvious but Alex was too exhausted, too confused to have it out now. Especially in Beam Me Up at 10am in front of a bunch of leering strangers.

“Just forget it, Guerin, I didn’t mean it but I’ve gotta go.”

“Alex, wait!”

He hurried toward his Jeep, walking as quickly as he could without turning back.

“Alex, stop.” Michael turned him around with a firm hand on his bicep. “I wanna talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Michael.”

“Of course there is!”

“You know, what?” Alex found his breath coming in sharp spurts and his emotions take over the controls of his brain. “You’re right. We should talk about how I told you I wanted to start over, start from the beginning and you made me think we were on the same page. We should talk about how I wanted to be with you, waited for you, and you chose my best friend. We should talk about how neither of you seemed to give one shit about how I felt every day knowing you were together, knowing you were falling in love while tried to put on a happy fucking face and be a good friend. Oh, or how our friends all rooted for you and Maria when they knew how I felt about you. We should talk about how I got kidnapped because of you and you left me. You left me there waiting! Again!”

Michael stood frozen, mouth slightly ajar and eyes wide. Alex’s shoulders heaved and his eyes prickled. He shook his head.

“I am desperately trying to get my life back together. Trying to make friends and fix the friendships that fell apart. Spend time with my brother. Be with Forrest. But then there’s you. There’s always you.”

Pulling down the sleeve of his sweater, Alex wiped his cheek and sniffed, an empty laugh escaping his lips. “Maybe we should talk one day, Michael. I could use some pointers on how to move on so easily from someone you love. I can’t seem to figure it out but you nailed it, so-”

“Alex, that’s not-”

“I’m tired, Guerin. I’ll see you around.”

Next time he needed to wallow, Alex reprimanded himself, he’d do it in the privacy of his own home.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #angst #prompts #thank you for the prompt anon!#I want sad but mad Alex please

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litwitlady · 4 years ago

Text

Date Nights (2/5)

Read on AO3.

‘The library?’ The brick building’s doors slide open, the scent of musty old books assaulting them immediately. Michael smirks at Alex and crosses the threshold, knowing Alex will follow. ‘We could have gone to Maria’s Mexican farmer’s market to get chilaquiles.’

Michael winks back at him. ‘I’ll make you chilaquiles, baby. But first, the library.’

Alex searches through his memories trying to remember the last time he’d set foot in Roswell’s tiny public library. Not a single memory comes to mind. ‘How is this a replacement for date night? Are you going to read something dirty to me? Does this library actually own anything dirty you could read to me?’

Ignoring him, Michael settles at a computer next to the microfiche reader. Alex frowns down at him, an image of Forrest flashing through his mind. ‘Are you researching something?’ He grabs a chair and slides it over, sitting down with a sigh. ‘I can help. At home with my super computer. And your chilaquiles. And my bed close enough to be distracting.’

Still no response from Michael so Alex lets his eyes wander over the stacks and stacks of endless books. A strange guilt settles over him when he thinks about how little he reads these days despite how much he used to love cracking the spine of a new novel. ‘Do you think I should get a library card? I’ve never had one because I like to destroy the books I read. But maybe a library card would get me back into the habit.’

Michael smashes the keyboard in front of him proudly, sliding the monitor towards Alex and pointing to the screen. ‘My items are ready to be checked out.’ The grin that spreads across his face scares Alex because there’s an obvious taunt curled in the corners of his lips. ‘Let’s go to the front desk. You can get a library card and I can pick up my stuff.’

The librarian sets a large stack of books in front of Michael and gives Alex a form to fill out, asking for his driver’s license. He darts his eyes over to Michael’s stack and notices the book on top is about astrophysics. Nothing odd about that so he returns his gaze to the task in front of him.

Once they’re done, Michael pulls him back into the belly of the library. ‘I need to use their copy machine. It’s the cheapest in town seeing as to how it’s free.’

‘Okay, maybe I’ll go search for a book to read.’ He holds up his new library card grinning. ‘I feel like I’m in kindergarten again, but like, in a good way.’

Michael returns his smile and pulls out his phone to take a picture. ‘You’re cute. But you have to come with me first. There’s something I want to show you.’

Alex follows him back to a small room stuffed with the largest copy machine he’s ever seen in his life. ‘Wow. Where did Roswell get this kind of money?’

‘Education grant. Isobel was on the Chaves County Library Board. Pretty sure she wanted this copier for her own nefarious purposes. But maybe that’s just me being a very uncharitable brother.’ He lifts the lid of the copier and flattens one of his books across the surface.

Hopping up onto the small table next to the copier, Alex plays a game on his phone while Michael does whatever it is he’s doing. A comfortable silence settles around them until Michael slides onto the table next to him and shoves a warm sheet of paper in front of his phone.

Alex’s eyes grow wide once the newly copied image on the white, glossy photo paper comes into focus enough for him to recognize the picture of himself. A picture of himself circa the mid-nineties, hair gelled flat and a clip-on tie half-hanging off his collar. ‘What the actual fuck, Michael? Where did you get this?’

Michael grins like he just won the lottery. ‘From this.’ He drops the Roswell Elementary yearbook onto Alex’s lap and nudges him with his shoulder. ‘And there’s lots more where that came from.’ He hands over several more yearbooks, from first grade through eighth. ‘I’m already well-versed in the high school photos, obviously.’

‘But why though?’ He absentmindedly flips through the cheaply published pages, cringing every time a photo of himself flashes by. ‘Some things deserve to be nothing more than a memory. A very, very distant memory.’

‘The best part is the gap between your teeth. It’s adorable and you should have kept it.’ Alex glares at him and sets the yearbooks aside, eyebrows arched in an open question. Michael leans in and kisses the corner of his furiously bent brow. ‘I wanted us to have this moment.’

‘What moment? This moment of extreme embarrassment for baby Alex?’ He holds the photo of himself up, distress creasing his face.

Michael’s grin only grows wider, all his teeth now fully on display. ‘Yes. In the movies Isobel likes to watch, couples always get this moment where they meet each other’s parents and are forced through dozens of photo albums filled with the most embarrassing pictures from their childhoods.’ His grin falters and his voice lowers. ‘Me and you aren’t going to get that moment.’ He locks eyes with Alex and lets the truth in his words hang heavy between them. ‘Not like in the movies, anyway. But I can give us this.’ He raises his hips off the table and pulls something from his back pocket, handing it to Alex.

‘Oh my god.’ It’s another school picture but this time of Michael, curls everywhere and eyes full of fear. ‘How old were you here?’

‘Six. Only a few months after we were found. I didn’t even really speak yet. It took me awhile. Longer than Max or Iz who, according to their own stories, were chatterboxes by the time they started school.’ He takes the two photos from Alex and holds them side-by-side. ‘I thought maybe we could frame them. Create a new history for ourselves. One where we get to be two little boys with so much love waiting for them in the future.’ His voice breaks and Alex wraps his arms around him, hugging him tighter than ever before.

A knock at the door pulls them apart. A woman in pink glasses and a black cardigan wags her finger at them accusingly. Michael gives her a thumbs up. ‘That’s Ms. Doris. Don’t worry. She loves me.’

Alex settles back against the wall and looks at Michael, taking in every inch of his face from his chapped lips to the one rebellious curl refusing to obey. He thinks of a million different things he could say in this moment, but only one of them feels right. ‘I love you so much. I should have said that every day since the first day.’

Tears burn at his eyes and Michael reaches up to wipe them away. ‘I love you too. And we both should have said it every day since the first day.’ He kisses Alex soft and slow, daring Ms. Doris to look back through the window. ‘Now let’s get you a book and go home. I’ll make you chilaquiles while you learn how to read again.’

‘Asshole.’ There’s no animosity in his voice. Only love.

Back in the stacks, Alex decides to blindly choose a mystery novel from the shelves. He glances over at Michael flipping through his book on astrophysics. ‘That wasn’t the first time Miss Doris caught you wrapped around someone in this library, was it?’

Michael smiles down at a colorful chart of the stars. ‘Might have happened off and on for the past fifteen years. I’ve always cleaned up good at the library.’

Alex practically throws himself in Michael’s arms, kissing him squarely on the mouth as they collapse against the creaky metal shelves. ‘You’re such a shit.’

For a minute, they get lost in each other. Forgetting where they are entirely. Happy for the whole world to see them pressed together if it means this is what their life gets to look like from now until forever. But true to her reputation, Ms. Doris soon finds them and shoos them from the stacks, personally escorting them to the check-out desk with a severe frown Alex suspects is permanently etched into the lines of her face. But as he hands his book to the librarian behind the counter, Alex doesn’t miss the barely there smile she gives Michael as she squeezes his elbow and disappears, returning to her patrol.

Michael turns back to him, hand outstretched. ‘Ready?’

‘Ready.’ Alex nods and threads their fingers together. ‘On the way home, let’s stop by the thrift store on Main. They always have a good selection of frames.’

‘Okay, but nothing with aliens. Or the words Live, Laugh, Love.’ Alex snorts as the doors close behind them.

#malex #malex fic

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lambourngb · 4 years ago

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Why can’t I change

The irony is, you inspired this story. You posted a ficlet about Michael and Max going out to distract themselves from the pain of being separated from their soulmates... and this hit me hard:

Max is drinking too much tonight. This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before. Twice. Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah. He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself. What he likes. What he wants, outside of Alex. Um, and hopefully, eventually, with Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun. Light. Uncomplicated. Pretty much everything the rest of his life isn’t right now.

So I started writing a fic where Michael is exploring things about himself, dating and figuring out what he wants, while he lingers in that “hopefully eventually” feeling in place. Of course, dating is hell, and especially it’s hell when there is so much about Michael that is hard to explain to someone- not just the alien parts, but his genius IQ, his “adopted” siblings, his past in social services, no parents, etc. Then the awkwardness of how he can’t stop from watching Alex whenever their paths cross.

SNIPPET :

It started innocently enough like most of Michael’s life-ruining decisions, during a beer break from his newly re-established lab bunker.

“Alright, worst date you’ve ever been on, and go!” Charlie started, taking a long pull of her IPA, before sending a look over to Michael. “You win on the most embarrassing sibling, Guerin, someone needs to teach your sister to knock, but I bet I have you beat on bad dates.”

So five minutes after she had decided to stay in Roswell, Charlie Cameron had ended up tracking down Michael at Sanders, and opened the conversation unceremoniously with, “So aliens are real and I’m guessing you’re one. Consider me the newest member of your Scooby Gang and tell me everything.” He had dropped a heavy wrench on his boot, pain stealing his voice for a moment. Perhaps there was a man out there that was able to resist the no-nonsense stare of a Cameron woman, but that wasn’t Michael, or even Max for that matter.

And that was that, one more person in on the second biggest secret Michael held (he was still in love with Alex being number one). It came with it’s own valuable reveals, finding out from Charlie that although Helena Ortecho had covered her tracks with the group as a red herring for Flint’s sake, Deep Sky was a very real paramilitary group and they were the source of the depowering serum that Helena had used on Michael to keep him compliant.

So ten minutes after catching her up on all things ridiculous and real in Roswell, New Mexico, Charlie had raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and drawled lazily, “Any plans to combat that drug, or are you just going to hope that the next time it’s another benign manipulator? Because the way I see it, I’m a genius biochemist, and you’re a genius period, maybe we can do better than blind hope?”

Whether it was hubris at play to see if it was even possible, or a renewed determination to just fuck up whatever military sponsored plot that was in play, Charlie Cameron signed on to research an antidote to the depowering serum and in the process had become Michael’s newest, and surprisingly easiest, friend to have.

It was strange but Michael was starting to number his friends beyond just Max, Isobel and the currently absent Liz Ortecho. He could begrudgingly add Kyle Valenti to the list, now that Max had come clean with everyone over his heart condition. Although it was exceedingly awkward at times in the wake of their breakup, Maria was trying for friendship with him and it probably said something about them that they fell into that rhythm much easier than he had with Alex.

On paper he could consider Alex his friend. They shared beers together at neutral locations, there was always a conversation to linger over with coffee, and finally, Michael was the person Alex called now, every time he was scheduled to go out of town for work. That was less friendship, and more of a coping mechanism for them both after his abduction by Jesse then Helena.

It meant that Charlie Cameron had won the contest of easiest friend probably by default, but that didn’t make being the target of her knife-sharp sense of humor any easier to deflect when she smelled blood in the water. Thinking about his past, he knew that any conversation about dating was sure to leave him bleeding out.

Michael eyed the open hatch of the bunker lab, wondering if the spanse of time they had spent in the open air was enough for Charlie to nip this conversation to a close and return to the task of experimentation. Long periods of time in solitary confinement in a military prison had left her with a dislike of closed spaces, and it didn’t matter what sort of faux-Restoration Hardware light fixture he hung from the ceiling of his bunker; the walls would start closing in on her after two hours or so of work.

“You win this round, okay?”

“Come on, no bowing out. I told you about the ‘bring your child to work day’ my father suffered through with his conservative asshat co-workers, you can tell me about your worst date.”

“I haven’t dated enough to have a bad one, okay?” Michael admitted, looking away. There was no way he was going to talk about the drive in charity benefit with Alex, when he couldn’t be legitimately sure that it was even a date. Did sharing a six-pack on his tailgate even count? The way that night had ended was better off forgotten. Then there was Maria, where drinks at her bar had started as the natural postscript to an evening together. Did that count? He remembered bargaining with debts to arrange a dinner with Chinese food, that had been postponed almost indefinitely after her visions took center stage.

“Bullshit! Almost the second thing my sister told me about you was to be careful I didn’t end up in your bed.”

Michael ducked his head with an acknowledged wince. Well, Jenna Cameron did have a front-row seat during most of his questionable decisions regarding women and his poor restraint when it came to a certain brand of asshole at the Wild Pony. When he ran across men who reminded him of Foster Dad #5 who thought respect could be beaten into Michael, or men who were like Foster Dad 3 who kept his wife nervously popping pills for her nerves and caked in pancake makeup most Sunday mornings. Some people just needed punching. Michael was always happy to be the one doing it if someone gave him reason to and drunk assholes often did.

He tipped the bottle back to drain the last swallow of nearly flat beer to buy some time as he thought about what to say next. There was little hope of escape, Charlie had the mind of a scientist, sharp and inquisitive and ready to press for more answers. “I’m no virgin, that’s for sure. But that was mainly sex.” He shrugged, dropping the empty into his trash barrel. “From all the movies Izzy makes me watch with her, I gather going on a date is something of a higher tier than a one-off in my truck after last call.”

“What about with Mr. Complicated?” Charlie’s smile was closer to a smirk. Michael revised his assessment of her, from scientist to sadist.

“More than a one-off in my truck,” Michael agreed quietly. “Everything else was why it was complicated. And no, I don’t really want to talk about it, just to say, I have no stories about lost entrées at dinner or suddenly being a part of someone’s wedding reception with him.”

Instead of pressing the knife deeper into him with more questions about Alex, Charlie backed off with a mixed expression. Shit that was pity on her face, wasn’t it? God, it really was a sad story, his relationship with Alex and his life currently, Michael thought. Charlie, who had spent time in the last couple of years in a military prison and was actively evading a paramilitary group interested in her research, actually pitied his life.

“You’re trying to tell me you’re thirty years old, and you don’t have a single dating story to share?” She shook her head giving a sarcastic *bzzz* sound with her lips. “I don’t buy it. What about the hot bartender you were with last year?”

“You ever try to date someone who works in a bar? Her work hours were prime recreational hours. Who wants to go see a movie after last call and closing the till? You especially don’t want to go to another bar during off hours.” Michael pointed out. “Anyway, we kept it low-key. I cooked. Or we had drinks at the Pony. I dunno, life kept getting in the way of anything more.”

“That’s just sad.”

Michael placed his hand against his chest, “Ouch, don’t hold back!”

Charlie straightened up from where she was sitting, on the steps of the old school bus to get to her feet. “Okay you’ve basically described two relationships with feelings, but I’m talking about something different. You swipe right on someone, trade messages, ghost them when they are creepy, you’ve never done any of that? No one has ever slipped their number to you when you’ve gone out with friends?”

“I just told you, those were just one-offs in my truck.”

“Oh my god, give me your phone, we’re downloading some apps.”

#aewriting #michael guerin alien grief cactus #michael joins the dating world #online dating teaches you a lot #wip meme

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avasghost · 4 years ago

Text

Crane Anatomy Update #2

(slightly outdated WIP intro here)

DISCLAIMER: this is my original work. please do not plagiarize in any way.

Hello!! I’m finally back with the second crane anatomy update!

first of all, this is probably going to be a very long post, so brace yourself for a lot of mindless rambling.

LOTS of things have changed since the last update, and its going much better now thankfully! what has happened:

i restarted the book

i changed the form

i got very burnt out

i stopped being burnt out (mostly) after making a verb list (fun verbs always help)

i figured out some stuff about my writing process

so there’s a lot to cover.

first!! I restarted the book!! This is obviously the biggest change that took place. I made a post about it here, when i wasn’t sure if i was going to restart yet, and then decided to go for it and now i’m about 4000 words into the new version. It’s going a lot better in most ways, the prose is better (somewhat), and so far nothing boring or unnecessary has happened so that’s nice! but also some things are worse: this version is burning me out a lot more, probably because i’m trying harder to make it good. there was a long period when i was hardly writing it at all, but i’m getting into it a bit more now so that’s good.

secondly, with the restart, i made a few form changes that i love and really benefit the story. first of all, it’s not in vignettes anymore (sigh of relief) because i realized that wasn’t working and the book didn’t need it. vignettes are kinda light and jumpy and fast paced, and at first i thought that was perfect for this book because of its lightness, but as i figured out more things about the characters and plot, i realized that even though the settings and aesthetic are quite sunny and bright, it’s actually a very inherently heavy story and the longer chapters will help that quite a lot with the lightness and yet also heaviness if that makes sense?? and also, the exciting part: every second chapter is a vignette flashback to Isobel’s old life.

for context, at the beginning of the first chapter, they arrive at their new house, and it’s them entering a new life, which is much darker than their old life. but the vignette chapters are flashbacks to their childhood growing up in their old house. the prose in these vignettes is very hazy and bright and dreamy and saturated, because Isobel’s memories of her childhood portray it as brighter and better than it probably really was.

and finally, in all these major changes, i figured out something about my writing process: i’m a pantser, but i like to have the first few chapters outlined, as sort of a springboard into the rest of the book, something solid to base everything else off of. i guess that technically makes me a plantser, even though everything else is pantsed.

now, onto the chapters and excerpts! i’m finished the first chapter and the first vignette, and currently working on chapter 2.

you may notice that some scenes are very similar to the first attempt, because i did keep a lot of scenes and also a lot of the same prose.

excerpts under the cut.

chapter 1: this new life

it felt soooooo good to write a full length chapter again. after trying to write vignettes for a while, writing a full length chapter was so much more enjoyable. i used to be a very serious underwriter, but (luckily) have mostly gotten over that and can write actual full chapters now, and have a hard time writing short ones!

i named the chapter “this new life” because my plan is to mirror it later in the book, when there’s a vignette flashback to right before they left their old house and its called “this old life” (if i decide to title the vignettes). i love mirroring chapter titles and lines and stuff so i’m excited for this.

ALSO i said in the first writing update (which i won’t link because it’s embarrassing) that there’s a redwood tree in the backyard, but i changed it to an oak tree lol because i realized it would be v weird for someone to have a random redwood tree growing in their backyard.

excerpts

first of all, the new first line:

(idk if this is actually an oak tree but i don’t care about tree accuracy as long as there’s aesthetic accuracy ✨)

The first time Isobel steps onto the lawn outside the new house is the first time she feels her life change in person. It’s instantaneous, like a death or a rebirth. Clouds thread across a sun-smothered sky like gossamer strands, swallows trill out of the limbs of oak trees that arrow down the sidewalk. The car only halfway to a stop, and Isobel has already clambered out. A squirrel bullets along an oak branch. A wind chime tremolos in the breeze. It’s the first day of summer. Life has never felt so dead.

a bit about them unpacking and living sad times (also i changed their mom’s name from beth to pamela because beth was too stereotypical)

Nobody speaks except to toss instructions back and forth, or ask for something to be passed to them as they unpack the few things they need to last the night. Their mother, Pamela, is quick-tempered. It’s clear she never wanted to come here, even though she always smiled when they talked about it, encouraged everybody, told them it was for the best, which it was. It was for the best, but that didn’t make it a good thing. That didn’t brighten the prospect, make it feel better. That just made it less avoidable.

Cyrus, their father, keeps up his usual attitude of encouragement, just like Pamela, pointing out every good thing: the sunlight that spangles everything in citrine, the pizza he’s about to order, the bluebird that spits music in the open window, though he says all these things half-heartedly. His faltering smiles give him away. The strands of grey hair pasted to his forehead. The woolly cable-knit sweater he only wears when he’s unhappy and has been wearing almost every day for the last two months.

and of course, margaret is having the time of her life because she’s margaret:

Margaret is the only one who shows no sign of remorse. She unpacks quickly, then spends the rest of the day ruffling through boxes and coolers for crinkly chip bags and frozen strawberries that melt on your tongue and dribble down your throat. A pocket mirror spined with cracks sits beside her on the table, in case she needs to tweak her reflection. Gold chain jewelry chimes around her throat when she moves, glints in the sunlight that pools around her.

after they eat dinner and isobel leaves (yes i’ve shared most of this excerpt before but it’s one of my favorite parts so here it is again!)

After dinner, Isobel’s throat is still throbbing and she decides to leave the house, leave her family, so if she cries no one has to see her. She doesn’t know where she’ll go, where there is to go, but at seven o’clock she lies about where she’s going, shoves out of her chair and clatters out the door without saying goodbye.

From the doorstep, this new life is just a neighborhood. A car parked in half the driveways, the others at work or school or nowhere. Hedges only trimmed on one side. Flower beds, half withering and half thriving. Marigolds are the most radiant as Isobel stalks down the road. Their fluorescent buds like blood-rimmed suns.

She walks down the middle of the road because the town is quiet at this time, no cars whisk on the pavement, swish corners because they don’t think anyone will be walking there. It’s a risk she finds thrilling because she knows Pamela would make her stop if she was here.

Isobel told them she would go explore the neighborhood, the town, maybe the empty spaces outside it. Wave hello to the skinny chiffon woman bent double over the trunk of her red Chevrolet, the man in the houndstooth jacket in his gaping garage, smoke snaking up the throat of his cigarette. Smile when they wave back.

and of course she runs into a forest because everything i write features too many forest scenes!

She runs until her breath clumps in her chest and she stops, one hand splayed over the itchy bark of an elm tree to keep her balance. It’s dark here, but she’s not afraid of the dark. It’s lonely here, but she’s immune to loneliness. Trees spoke the thin canopy, a veil of gauzy leaves. The sky is clotted with sagging clouds.

this chapter is also where we meet felix, who i love so much. i want to make a character intro for him and also his brother, miles, soon, but i’ve been planning to do that for weeks and haven’t yet so i don’t know when/if i will.

felix shows up in the forest and he and isobel talk a bit: felix is very nice and isobel is my lil psychopath wannabe <3. isobel ends up leaving abruptly because it’s about to rain, and then she gets home and talks with piper a bit and then goes to bed. i don’t like ending chapters with characters going to bed, because i do it so much! a character going to bed has a sense of closure since its the end of the day, and obviously there’s nothing wrong with ending a chapter like this, but i do it do often that it’s starting to irritate me.

first vignette

i still haven’t decided how i’m going to title the vignettes. they’re not chapters, so this isn’t going to be called ‘chapter 2′, but they’re still sort of chapters?? right now i just have them titled as roman numerals, but i’m not happy with this and am going to change it as soon as i think of something better.

this vignette is a short flashback to that morning, right before they leave to go to their new house. it features isobel and piper going into the forest and then they leave and its v sad.

this is the first flashback in the book, and then in future flashbacks it jumps back a few years and follows their childhood right up to this flashback again. the last flashback is going to end with the same line as the first line of the actual book, so it comes full circle.

excerpts

There were different types of trees. It was a different town, in a different province. Isobel and Piper had evaded Pamela’s searching fingers, hopped the fence, blotted under the trees like redwing blackbirds.

Piper slowed first, sunlight quivering over her sawn black curls, pinching out a cramp after outrunning Isobel the whole time.

same excerpt as in the first update but with an extra sentence at the end and the beginning! why share new prose when you can just recycle old excerpts galaxy brain

here’s when pamela calls them out of the forest and they leave:

Pamela’s raspy shouts wound Piper and Isobel out of reverie. They trundled to their feet, flitted through the trees back to the house. Then they left.

Isobel stared at the house through the rear window as the car clicked into motion, wheels whirring on the pavement. She watched it shrink: first it was her home, then just a house, then a dollhouse, a triangle of roof on the horizon, and then nothing. From that point on, it was just an image in her head, a lingering wish. A life lost. A life she would never get back again.

this is v sad i’m sorry characters but i had to cause you this misery for the sake of the plot (also you probably deserve it)

anyway that’s all i have for this update! bye!

- Ava

Crane Anatomy taglist (ask to be added/removed!):

@gracestowewriting @flip-phones @shaelinwrites

#crane anatomy #writing update #am writing #my writing #excerpts

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benkouji726 · 4 years ago

Text

Five times Alex surprised Forrest and one time he didn’t

Final two Chapters!

Not gonna lie. I literally cried when I finished this. And I vowed to myself that I’d NEVER write a multi chapter ever again.

But anyway, I FINISHED IT. I feel so proud of myself. Also, I now realize that I’m not a writer, like at all. To quote Mr Alec Lightwood-Bane, “I dabble”.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Forrest’s lease was up in two weeks, and he hadn’t even tried to look for a new apartment yet.

Thing was, he and Alex were practically living together, they just spent their nights alternatively in his apartment or Alex’s house, depending on their work schedule or the mood.

Besides, Buffy OWNED that couch in Alex’s house at this point. No lie, anyone who wanted to sit on that couch needed to ask for her permission, Alex included.

But Alex hadn’t asked him yet. And he knew about the lease thing, Forrest made sure of it.

So here he was, blew off Alex’s dinner request and sat in wild pony, alone and miserable, just because he didn’t know if his boyfriend, who he had dated almost seven months now, wanted to take the next step with him or not. It was a little pathetic to be honest.

“Maybe I should just ask him”, he murmured to himself, needing the outspoken words to give himself courage.

“Ask him about what?” Isobel suddenly appeared to his left.

“Jesus”, he was startled, and a little bit embarrassed. He and Isobel were sort of friends now, but talking about boy problems with each other? They were so not there yet. So he deflected. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Greg were going out tonight.”

Isobel considered him for a moment, eyes insightful. Forrest sometimes felt like she could see right through him, it was unsettling to say the least. But she played along, dropping the topic.

“Gee, what are you and Alex? Teenage besties? You tell each other every little thing in your life now? Including who one’s brother goes out with on any given day?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Forrest replied, deadpan, “What else would we talk about when we go to the bathroom together, hand in hand?”

Isobel snorted. “Well, Greg had to bail on me because his brother was feeling alone and insecure tonight because he said, and I quote, ‘it’s our six months anniversary and I planned the whole thing but he chose today of all days to blow off our date. Is he gonna dump me oh my dear brother?’”

Forrest frowned. “What are you talking about? Our six months anniversary was almost three weeks ago. We had a nice dinner, we exchanged gifts. Well, I gave him a gift, he gave some toy to Buffy, but you know, PRESENTS were involved.”

“Don’t look at me. All I know is that I’m here and Greg is there. When we could’ve been having a MUCH enjoyable time right now if not for your issues, no matter what they are.”

Forrest couldn’t help himself at that point.

“If he cared so much about me, why didn’t he want me to move in with him?”

Isobel froze at that. But she recovered quickly. “Are you sure you want to talk to me about this, Long? I’m sure our friendship is so not there yet.”

He KNEW this. He just didn’t care anymore. “Why not? It’s not everyday I can talk about my boyfriend issues to said boyfriend’s ex’s sister, is it?”

Isobel sighed. “When you put it that way, it’s almost like we’re family. So go ahead. But I gotta say, I don’t know why you’re so upset, it’s only been six months. It’s within reason that he didn’t ask you to move in, no?”

Forrest shook his head. “Normally I’d agree. But for the last month or so, we haven’t spent a single night apart. We’re either in my apartment or in his house. And the lease of my apartment is up in 2 weeks. He knew this, because I TOLD him last week, but instead of asking what my plans are, he changed the subject, rather smoothly I might add, but it was still a very abrupt move.”

He went quieter. “I haven’t gathered the courage to bring up the topic ever since. And it’s not only been six months, it’s six months and three weeks.”

“Well”, Isobel also went quieter. “I don’t know much about your relationship status. But I want to quote the thing you just said, you should ask him. And maybe sort out the whole different dates on the anniversary mess?”

Forrest stared. “You are absolutely no help.”

She drank his drink, patted him on the back, and left.

Really. No help at all.

——————————————

When he parked in Alex’s driveway, Greg was already gone. Perhaps went to the ENJOYABLE TIME with Isobel. Which, eww.

He went in, using the key Alex gave him. (He had a key for god’s sake, didn’t that say something?) Buffy was lying on HER couch, not even spared a glance his way. So she took Alex’s side. Great.

Then he was met with candles and roses and wine and cold homemade meal, and a visibly upset and a little sad Alex.

OK if he was Buffy he would probably take Alex’s side too.

He felt guilty but also angry because he had done nothing he should feel guilty about, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“It’s not our six months anniversary.”

Alex looked confused. “What? It’s definitely six months since I kissed you and we went on our first date that night.”

Forrest was cold all of a sudden.

“Wait. I thought our first date was the paint ball date?”

Now Alex was the one looked guilty. “I don’t consider it the beginning of our relationship, because at that time, I hadn’t moved on from Guerin yet. But the night when I sang that song...”

“You mean that song you wrote for him, sang it in front of him, hoping he would take you back, but got rejected, that song? So what, you think our relationship only began after you knew he was no longer a possibility?”

Forrest never hated himself more in his whole life. He was being petty, he knew. And he was hurting the love of his life for being petty. But whatever’s said, couldn’t be unsaid.

Alex’s knuckles turned white from gripping the kitchen table. He said in a controlled voice. “I think our relationship began after I was sure I wanna move on. Yes, the reason I wanted to move on was because I thought there was no chance between me and Guerin anymore. And yes, if he had not walked out of that song, you and I might not have entered our relationship. But he did walk out, and I decided to try it with you. I’m glad I made that decision.”

He took a calming breath. But his voice shook a little at the end of his words. “You know all this. I’ve been nothing but honest with you. I told you my history with Guerin, you said you wanted to fight for us. What changed?”

His greedy heart was what changed, Forrest could at least admit this to himself. He had this constant fear, always looming somewhere deep in his heart, that if Guerin ever wanted to fight for Alex back, he would WIN.

He didn’t want to acknowledge that fear to Alex though, so he asked instead: “Why haven’t you asked me to move in with you? You knew my lease status.”

Something flicked through Alex’s eyes then, something like panic and afraid. But he was never one to avoid confrontation so he braced himself and said, “Because it’s a big step and I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Well if Forrest had ever thought he’d experienced the worst pain, he’d be wrong.

His voice was broken alongside his heart. “We’ve been living together for a month now, Alex, just in two places. I don’t understand, what more do we need to take the step? Where is this THERE?”

“I don’t know!” Alex seemed heartbroken too. Damn him. “Moving in together means we’re going steady. But I’m not steady and I can not offer steady at the moment!”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Forrest was angry now, because what Alex said was just total bullshit. “You are the steadiest person I know! And I don’t know if you noticed, but we’ve been going steady for at least four months now!”

“Not that kind of steady!” Alex continued to not making any sense, “the kind of steady that I can share everything with you, that I know where I’d end up, that we’re having the safe and happy future we both want!”

“Wait, back up, what?” He was utterly lost. “What do you mean, end up? You told me you are very unlikely to get relocated. And after this term of your enlistment, you’ll get out and find a job here. And more importantly, what the fuck do you mean, safe? Why shouldn’t we be safe?” He didn’t want to touch the ��share everything” part, not just yet.

Alex shut his eyes. “I can’t tell you that.”

So literally “can’t share everything” huh, well it hurt like a bitch.

To add salt to the wound, because he was apparently asking for pain at this point, he asked, “Is it about Guerin?”

Alex didn’t answer that. He just stood there, eyes teary and pleading.

“So let me get this straight. You can’t move in with me because you can’t promise that we’d have a future together because you may end up dead or something, and the reason you might be in trouble even danger some day is because you are doing something for Guerin, which you can’t tell me about.”

Alex still said nothing.

Forrest should just leave, take Buffy and never turn back. But he had been a pathetic loser for Alex since day one, so he asked a last question, he practically begged: “Is there a time frame of this thing you do for him? Because I can be patient.” He even tried a lighthearted smile, he failed spectacularly.

Alex seemed SHATTERED by that. But he still shook his head.

After that, there was nothing left to say.

————————————

Turned out, it was really easy to find a new apartment in Roswell, New Mexico.

————————————

He was writing a poem in Crashdown when Guerin showed up. He was writing a lot of poems these days since Alex and he had the argument the other day. (He hadn’t seen, talked to or heard from Alex for three weeks now, but he still refused to call it a breakup.)

So he was writing his poem and had every reason to ignore Guerin, even if he sat in the opposite seat of the booth, directly in front of him.

Guerin seemed he didn’t really want to be there either, because he cut to the chase rather quickly.

“Alex re-enlisted because he wanted to protect me and my family from the government agency that is hunting us.” He said in a rush, voice so quiet Forrest thought he must’ve misheard him.

“What?” No, that was not quite enough, “What the fuck?”

Guerin cursed under his breath. “You are not stupid and you are not slow. You understand perfectly what I said. So ask a question that has some meaning instead of just being dense.”

Fuck him. “Why are you hunted?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

Great. Time to leave.

“Wait!” Guerin half shouted, frustration evident in his voice, “Do you care more about this or do you want to know what type of trouble this could bring to Alex?”

He stilled. And sat back down.

Guerin pulled his hair, hard. “Honestly, I don’t know that either. But I know I would do everything in my power to prevent any type of danger heading his way.”

Forrest laughed, humorlessly. “No offense, but that does not assure me, like at all.”

“What do you want me to say?” Guerin was angry now, “The GOVERNMENT is hunting us. Alex was already involved, we couldn’t get him out now even if we tried. And honestly, he wouldn’t want to get out, he is stubborn like that, even if he’s now suffering from it.”

“Because he wants to protect you.”

“Because it’s the right thing to do!”

They glared at each other, both angry and hurt.

Guerin backed down first. “He wants to protect me, and my family, yes, that is a factor why he is doing this. But not the only factor. He also wants to create his own legacy, and really, it IS the right thing to do.”

Somehow, Forrest believed him. He didn’t like him, but he believed him.

“Why are you telling me this?” He needed to know.

Guerin looked like he’d rather die than say the next bit, but he still said it. “Like I said, he’s suffering, because he thought he lost you over this.”

He then stared right into Forrest eyes, as if daring him to look away. “And I could swallow a lot of things if it means he’d be happy, you of all people should understand this, shouldn’t you?”

———————————

He left Buffy with his cousin because he wanted to have an uninterrupted conversation with Alex. She wasn’t happy about it.

But when he stood in front of Alex’s door, he suddenly lost all words. He even lost the courage to KNOCK.

The last three weeks had been the most miserable days of his life. He was only keeping himself together (barely) by insisting to himself that it was only an argument, not a definite ending. He didn’t know what he’d do if Alex decided it was in fact done and over.

He didn’t know what he’d do if those three weeks would turn into the rest of his life.

Panic struck him all at once, and he was ready to turn around and flee, when the door opened and Alex stepped out.

And he looked terrible.

He was losing weight, eyes bloodshot, hair a mess. He looked exactly like Forrest when he looked in the mirror these days.

He had so many things to say, to apologize, to blame, to yell, to beg. But no words came out. He stepped forward, as if being pulled by some invisible force, and next thing he knew, he was clutching at Alex, totally engulfed by his embrace.

He vaguely thought about loosing his grip a bit because it was really too desperate, but he was also having a little trouble breathing from Alex’s tight hug, so he let it go.

————————————

He didn’t know how long they stood there and hugged the fuck out of each other, but by the time they sat down on Buffy’s couch, he felt like a new man already.

They were sitting side by side, not exactly touching, but Alex’s hand rested beside his, he only had to move a fraction so that their pinkies would touch.

He moved that fraction.

Alex looked down, to their now touching pinkies. He smiled, moved his hand even further to Forrest so all of their fingers entwined.

Then he said, ever so soft, “I missed you. I missed you so damn much.”

Forrest wanted to cry. He wanted to say it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to know anything beyond the fact that he loved Alex and Alex loved him. He would be happy as long as he could have Alex by his side. He didn’t care about moving in or being steady. He just wanted Alex back.

But Alex surprised him by pulling him up and to the bedroom. There, in the corner, was a small bed.

A dog bed.

Forrest was speechless. Fear and hope clogging his throat.

“I purchased it the day you left after our fight”, so he thought of it as a fight, not a breakup either. They were both idiots. “I knew then I wanted you and Buffy to move in, but I thought I couldn’t have that. Like Guerin told you, we’re up against the government, I don’t even know if I can get an honorable discharge, I can’t promise you a bright future.”

He took a deep breath. “But now I want nothing more than to ask you to move in with me.”

He should be happy, he shouldn’t ask any questions anymore. But he just needed to.

“Why? What changed?”

Alex didn’t hesitate. “The last three weeks happened, and they changed how I see things.”

“How?”

“I realized I couldn’t live without you. I also don’t want to.”

Forrest thought he could burst from all the love and happiness he felt at that moment.

Alex tightened his grip on Forrest’s hand, he was sweating a little, which meant he was nervous as fuck, and said in a tentative voice.

“I still can’t tell you what is it about Guerin and his family, not without his permission, or how long this hunting will continue, and I still can’t promise you I’ll be safe and sound for our future together. But I’m willing to fight teeth and nail so I’d come back to you, to our home.” His voice broke, “So will you move in with me?”

He had no choice but to say yes.

+1.

He proposed on a Saturday morning, when they were in bed, tangled up, changing smiles and kisses, after Alex told him the danger was no longer there and Guerin and his siblings were in the clear. He simply took out the ring he had bought three months ago, and asked.

“Marry me?”

And when Alex said yes, he wasn’t surprised at all.

#forlex #forlex fic #my fic #5+1 things #i finished it #i don’t even know how it turned out #but i finished it #i feel like patting myself on the shoulder #and telling myself NEVER AGAIN

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saventhhaven · 4 years ago

Text

Only You - Chapter 12

Title: The Lion’s Den

Summary: When a man who left the reader six years ago suddenly reappears on her doorstep, she does everything she can to stop herself from falling in love with him all over again. Little does she know that his seemingly brief return will open an entirely new chapter for both of them.

Only You Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Tags: sexual innuendos, case solving, crazy-ass witch, stalking, death

Word Count: 5,241 O_o

(Gif not mine)

A large hand kneading the muscles in your lower back was what woke you. Sighing happily, you reached out and found Dean, his skin still warm from sleep. Your mind flashed back to last night's events, and a light smile snuck onto your lips as you remembered his body pressed up against yours. The Winchester brushed a kiss against your cheek, sensing that you were awake.

"Hey, sweetheart," he whispered into your ear before pulling you into his arms. You angled your face up to kiss him, a gesture he gladly reciprocated.

"Hey," you replied sleepily. Sunlight streamed through the curtains of your bedroom window, casting soft, angular shadows across the wooden floors. As you nestled yourself into Dean's bare chest, you realized something: no nightmares. For the first time in weeks, you had slept straight through the night. The last time you had slept this well was... well, the night you had slept in Dean's arms back at the motel. He let out a content hum as he gave you a small squeeze, peppering kisses on the top of your head. You hadn't realized how much you had missed this. When he wasn't tackling you to the floor, Dean was incredibly sweet when he was waking up. Well, granted that he was waking up with you, you supposed. When it was anyone else, the man was worse than a sleeping bear.

"I love you," he breathed. Again, you smiled. You were never going to get tired of hearing him say those words.

"I love you too." Dean pressed his face into your skin, and you felt him grin, something that deserved a reasonable amount of suspicion. "What are you up to, Winchester?" He began to gently nip at the pulse point in your neck in response, causing your eyes to pop open. "Now?" You asked bewildered. "Really?" You certainly weren't opposed to another round, but there was no doubt that your mom and Sam were awake by now.

"What?" At his innocent tone, you narrowed your eyes. Oh, so it was like that. He knew what he did to you - he proved that last night.

"Dean," you groaned playfully. "I'm sleepy." Dean's chest rumbled with a deep chuckle.

"I can fix that real quick, babe." Before he could try anything else, you were interrupted by a sharp knock on your door. You practically launched yourself out of Dean's arms, bolting upright.

"Shit!" you swore quietly. "Shit, shit, shit!" With your luck, that was your mother. "Just a second!" Cursing yourself for your high-pitched, unnatural tone, you frantically smoothed your hair as you got out of bed, searching for your clothes. "Dean," you hissed, "where's my shirt?" He sat up, giving you a look that clearly said, "how the hell should I know?" Well, he had a point. Where your clothes had landed on the floor last night had hardly been your primary focus.

"Use mine," Dean recommended as he pointed to the flannel material at your feet. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than answering the door naked. You could just pull on your robe and say you were getting ready to shower, but then again, you didn't know where your robe was. Screw it. Your fingers fumbled clumsily with the buttons as you willed yourself to calm down. With a final deep breath, you opened the door, just a crack, coming face-to-face with Sam.

"Sam!" you exclaimed too enthusiastically. "Hey!"

"Hey," he replied, his confusion causing him to give a slight frown. "Have you seen Dean at all? I thought maybe he was just sleeping in because I figured he got back late last night." Christ. Things just always had to be complicated, didn't they? "I just checked," Sam continued, "and he's not in his room, so now I'm not sure if he came back at all."

"Uh..." You looked back at Dean, who was smirking at you from your bed. His bottom half was covered by the sheet, but his toned chest was completely exposed, and his hair was mussed in the most adorably sexy way. God, he was a picture. Focus, Y/N.

There were two options: one, you could just admit that he was in your room with you, but that would bring a strong element of embarrassment with it. Or, two, you could say that you hadn't seen him. That particular option would make it a hell of a lot less awkward for you, but it wouldn't do much to appease Sam's concern. In fact, you were pretty sure he would drag you out of the house on some last-minute search party. There was only one way this could end. Letting out a breath of defeat, you looked down, feeling the embarrassment you had been anticipating.

"Yeah," you finally answered. "He's, ah... he's in here. With me." Sam seemed to notice the fact that you were wearing nothing but his older brother's shirt, and he broke out in a grin through the crack in the door.

"Oh!" You squinted warily at him, half expecting him to say "congratulations" or something. "Well, I was doing some research this morning, and I got us a lead," he explained. "I was thinking we should check it out today." God bless Sam. You nodded with a newfound eagerness.

"Yeah, sounds good." The younger Winchester tried to suppress another grin but failed.

"I'll give you two a bit to get ready." Sheepish, you gave him a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Sam." When he was gone, you shut the door and flopped onto your mattress, grumbling into the comforter. Dean laughed as he stretched his shoulders.

"I guess that's our cue to get up, huh?" As nice as it had been to step away for a night, it was a new day, which meant it was time to get back to work. You sighed woefully.

"How come you're only right when I don't want you to be?"

"Hey, I'm right about plenty of things!" Dean argued.

"Oh, keep dreaming, Winchester." He rolled his eyes at you. "Did you hear your brother say he found a lead?" He stood from your bed, giving you a full view of his nude form.

"Uh-huh." Fighting the strong urge to squeeze his ass, you helped him find the clothing articles scattered around the room.

"Any thoughts on what it could be?" you asked as you plucked his briefs from a lampshade. Dean shook his head.

"No idea," he answered honestly. "Could be anything." Allowing yourself a humorless laugh, you sighed.

"Well, anything is better than what we've got." All you had so far was a name and what she looked like, which, as it turned out, wasn't all that helpful. You already knew a basic name search got you nowhere. You had given that a shot while waiting for Dean to return last night. The most recent thing you found involving an Isobel Gray was from 1983, and it wasn't even the right Isobel. Dean gave you an encouraging wink.

"We're gonna figure this out, sweetheart." You looked at him coyly, unbuttoning his flannel. His eyes followed your hands as you undid the last button, allowing the soft fabric to fall limply from your shoulders. Dean swallowed hard. "God, Y/N," he said huskily. "You're gonna kill me." You tossed him his shirt and began to pull on your clothes from last night.

"You go ahead and take the shower first," you said, purposely ignoring him. "I want to touch base with Sam before we go anywhere." Dean shrugged into his shirt, his eyes still lingering on you.

"You got it." Once you were dressed, you sauntered over to him.

"Oh, and by the way." You stood on your toes to whisper in his ear, "I'm not your sweetheart." It was funny. Since he had come back, you had told him that more times than you could count, but never before to be ironic. After last night, it was nothing more than an inside joke. You were his, he was yours, and you both knew it. Dean kissed you deeply, practically making you melt in his arms when he traced his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

"Keep tellin' yourself that, babe." You rolled your eyes playfully and pushed the hair back off of his forehead. He kissed you one final time before releasing you. "I'll meet you downstairs in a bit."

"'Kay." As the two of you went down opposite directions of the hallway, you had to stop yourself from squealing like an idiot. You had sex last night. Good sex. With Dean Winchester. Not that sex with Dean had ever been bad, but still. You almost couldn't believe it.

You were lighter on your feet as you rounded into the kitchen, feeling like you were bringing a ray of fucking sunshine with you.

"Morning," you smiled, making a beeline for the coffee pot, which sadly had nothing in it. Your mother looked over at you in surprise from the sink, where she was washing dishes.

"Morning?" she echoed. "Honey, it's almost noon."

"Is it really?" Sure enough, the clock on the microwave said the same thing. Huh. Honestly, you were surprised that Sam had been willing to let Dean sleep in that late. Although, that did explain why the usually-full coffee pot was empty. "Jeez. I didn't mean to sleep in so late." Your mom sidled up to you, lowering her voice, but unfortunately, not enough so Sam couldn't hear.

"So, how'd it go last night?" You glanced at the younger Winchester out of your peripherals, who gave you a knowing look from the kitchen table.

"Oh my god, mom, nothing happened!" you hissed. She only raised an eyebrow in response, apparently unconvinced. You looked away abruptly and made your way over to Sam. "Sam, what've we got?" He shook his head as he turned back to his laptop. Okay, so, maybe Sam saw through your not-so-subtle subject change, but that didn't mean your mom did, right? Who were you kidding? Of course, she did.

"So," Sam began, "according to the internet, the Isobel Gray we're after dropped off the grid almost a decade ago." Your stomach gave a small flop of disappointment.

"Okay, then what's our lead here? Did you find anything useful?" He nodded.

"Yeah, actually. Bank records, if you can believe that." Your mom, who had returned to the sink, looked over her shoulder in surprise.

"Bank records?" she repeated incredulously. "How on earth did you get access to those?" You and Sam exchanged a wary look. This was the part where you told your mother that a lot of law-breaking went hand-in-hand with hunting. Sam cleared his throat before responding, doing his best to choose his words carefully.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, when we hunt... that is, sometimes we have to..." He looked over at you helplessly.

"Mom," you took over, "hunting requires us to use methods that aren't exactly... legal." Your mother didn't answer for several moments, merely pursing her lips. Great. You knew that expression. Maybe since Sam was here, you would get lucky and avoid a lecture. She pretended to be interested in the dishes again, trying her best to seem nonchalant.

"Do you break the law often?" she finally asked. You and Sam exchanged the same wary look before allowing your silence to be your answer. Your mother sighed, muttering something unintelligible under her breath.

"So..." you started, slowly turning back to Sam. "Bank records?"

"Right," he continued, looking relieved. "In 1922, Isobel Gray closed her bank account." You nodded.

"That must be where we lost track of her, right?" you wondered. "I couldn't find anything on her past that year, now that you mention it."

"Exactly," Sam affirmed. "What's interesting is that the same day Isobel Gray closed her account, a woman named Isabella Moore opened one." You gave another thoughtful nod.

"Sounds promising. An alias?"

"Yeah, I think so." Resting a dish towel over her shoulder, your mom took a seat next to you at the kitchen table.

"This new bank account," she began. "How much was deposited into it?"

"That's what I wondered, too," Sam said. "$3,825.72, which is exactly how much was withdrawn from Isobel Gray's account when it was closed." Your mother gave a triumphant smile.

"Sounds like our witch." You flinched when she said the word "our." How had she gotten so involved? This was the last thing you wanted for her. Sam glanced your way, seeming to sense your unease.

"The transactions show she bought a house a few years back," he went on, more hesitantly this time. "I dug through some real estate records, and it's not far from here." Your heart jumped up into your throat. Years? She had had a house close to your mother for a few years?

"Does she still live there?" your mom asked. Before Sam could answer, you looked at him imploringly.

"Sam, can you give us just a second, please?" He nodded.

"Yeah, Y/N, of course." You waited a few moments before speaking again, so Sam was out of earshot and closed the lid to his laptop.

"What?" your mom huffed, giving you a confused look. You shook your head. You had never had a conversation like this with her before. Where you were supposed to start, you didn't have a clue.

"Mom, I really appreciate that you want to help. I do," you assured. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"But?" You wet your lips as you took a deep breath. "Oh, come on, out with it."

"I don't want you involved in all of this," you declared. You weren't entirely sure what you were expecting her response to be. Maybe some understanding. Sympathy, even. But the frown that creased the skin between her eyebrows was not it.

"Honey," she ventured. "I'm your mom. If you're walking through the flames, you bet your ass I'm gonna be holding your hand the whole time." She allowed herself a soft smile. "Well, the hand that Dean doesn't have, anyway." There really was no hiding from this woman. "I know you're worried about me," she pressed on. "But I'm worried about you. You don't like me involved in all this stuff? Well, I don't like you involved in it either. I don't care how badass you are. You're still my little girl." Tears began to prick at your eyes. "And I would be absolutely devastated if anything happened to you. So, whatever I can do to help, I'm going to, whether you like it or not, young lady." You laughed, despite yourself, as you let out a sniffle.

"You haven't called me that since I snuck out of the house back in high school." Your mother echoed your laughter as she leaned forward to envelop you in a hug.

"Well. Desperate times call for desperate measures." You had gotten many things from your mother - your sharp wit and sarcasm - more than anything else, though, you got her strength. She looked into the living room where Sam still sat patiently and lowered her voice.

"Did you and Dean figure things out last night?" Again, little clips from the night before replayed through your mind, and you felt your face flush. The standard mother-daughter response here would be for you to act totally mortified that she was even asking. But then, this was no standard mother-daughter relationship. And now that you thought about it, last night probably wouldn't have happened had your mom not relayed to you what Dean had told her. God knows he probably never would have.

"Yeah," you responded, as you allowed your happiness to show in your smile. "I guess I have you to thank for that, huh?" Your mom shook her head, even though you knew damn well that you did.

"You don't have to thank me for anything," she insisted. "I was just doing what I thought was right." She watched you thoughtfully for a second before speaking again. "I know I'm really changing my tune here," she confessed, "but I was wrong about him, Y/N." You grinned.

"So, what, are you two actually getting along now?" you questioned. "Does this mean you won't tell him you don't like him again? To his face, I might add." Your mother grimaced as a guilty expression came across her face.

"I apologized!" she defended herself. You were only teasing, but it brought you more relief than you could put into words knowing that your mother's grievances with Dean had finally been put to rest.

"Mornin'," Dean greeted, walking his bow-legged walk into the kitchen. Speak of the devil.

"Not quite," you corrected him. "It's almost noon."

"Is it really?" The man peered across the room at the clock on the microwave, making your mom snort.

"You two did exactly the same thing," she mentioned. Dean smiled, meeting your eyes.

"What can I say?" He winked. "Y/N and I are just on the same wavelength. Always have been." You rolled your eyes with a groan. Did he ever pass up an opportunity to be a cheeseball? Letting your cheeks puff up as you let out a sigh, you stretched your back.

"Okay, you two, I am gonna go shower because I smell like-" Dean squeezed his eyes shut with an amused shake of his head, and your mother raised her eyebrows at you. Had she not been in the room, that sentence would have been finished with the word "sex." But since she was... You drummed your fingers on the kitchen table nervously, trying to recover. "Well, I'm just gonna go shower."

Despite your attempt at a quick shower, it was almost 2:00 by the time you and Dean left the house. Apparently, coming up with a solid plan took much more time than you had initially anticipated. Mostly it had just been a struggle deciding who should stay with your mother. Ideally, you, Sam, and Dean would all be able to go to the witch's house, so there would be no shortage of hunter power. But this was the furthest thing from an ideal situation, and even though you had put up extra warding before departing, you still feared for her safety. The brothers would have had it covered if you stayed behind, but the problem with that was that you weren't sure you could protect your mom well enough if anything went wrong at the house while they were gone. No, you had to be with one of the boys. And as for Dean, if you were going, it was a no-brainer to him that he needed to be there with you. So, after much deliberation and a reasonable amount of debate, Sam had stayed back.

Saying you were nervous would be the biggest understatement of the century. It was taking every ounce of physical strength you had to keep yourself from shaking. Dean seemed to tune into what was on your mind and took one hand off the steering wheel, interlacing your fingers with his.

"It's okay," he reassured you. "As long as we stick with the plan, we'll be fine. You're ready for this." You nodded, taking a deep breath, and thinking back to all the time Dean had spent training you. He was right. You were ready. Your skills didn't hold a candle to his or Sam's, but mastery like that took time. You knew the boys had been at their craft for years. Unfortunately for you, that was time you didn't have, but at least you could hold your own. You would take that over being helpless any day. Quite frankly, you weren't sure how you were supposed to feel. There was some relief, obviously, that this would soon all be over.

"There." Dean pointed out the windshield along the edge of the inclining road. Through a cluster of trees, you saw it - a dark gray, run-down looking house. Had you not been looking for it, you would have missed it. Dean slowed to a stop behind the cover of a large tree on the side of the road. You had lived in this town your entire life, and you had never even come close to here before. It was secluded, and damn-near impossible to spot - no wonder the witch had bought this place.

"We walk from here," Dean stated. "If she's in there and we get too close, we're toast before we even walk in." You nodded. "Here." As the two of you went around to the trunk, he handed you the gun you had trained with. "There are witch-killing bullets in there. They're a bitch to make, and they ain't cheap either. Don't waste 'em." Nodding to show your understanding, the two of you began your short trek to the hidden house. As soon as you got close, the hairs on your arm immediately stood on end. As a rebellious teenager, you had done your fair share of sneaking around, but nothing like this. Never before had your life depended on you going unnoticed.

Dean took the lead as you approached the structure, motioning for you to stay close to him. This was it. Finally, you would be able to put all of this behind you. “On three,” he mouthed as his hand hovered over the door's handle. "One. Two. Three!" The wooden door flung open, and you both scanned the room, guns in hand. The home was studio-style, almost completely devoid of furniture, and otherwise totally empty.

"She's not here," you said softly. Dean lowered his gun with a sigh.

"No," he agreed, "she's not. But there's no telling when she'll come back, so we have to move fast. She's been a step ahead of us this whole time, so now's our chance to get two steps ahead of her." He motioned around the small, dimly-lit space, and you nodded. There wasn't a second to waste. Dean was right: you had no way of knowing when the witch would come back, so you had to take advantage of every moment you had in this place. Coming to a stop in front of a mirror on the wall, you frowned. The glass was covered in strange markings that seemed to be painted on with blood.

"Dean," you said over your shoulder. "What's this?" As he stepped closer, the same frown that you wore knitted his eyebrows together.

"I've seen this before," he noted as he carefully studied the symbols. "It's a mirror spell. She's been using this to spy on us." Your frown deepened.

"What do you mean? How?"

"These markings let her look in through this mirror and see out through any mirror she wants," Dean explained.

"Like a window," you mused.

"Exactly. The only mirrors she can't see through are the ones that have been warded." You glanced at him, hopefully.

"And did we..?" Dean shook his head. Damn. You had warded just about everything else in the house. How had you missed the mirrors? Dean placed his hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Look," he said quietly. Tearing your eyes from the mirror, you looked up at him. Following his gaze, you immediately thought you might be sick.

"No," you breathed. An unseen force pulled you to the wall, and you couldn't look away. Pictures. Dozens upon dozens of pictures stuck to the wall; Pictures of Sam and Dean, the Impala, pictures of you, your apartment, the hospital, and even the old diner where you used to work. And below every single picture, there were frantic notes scribbled.

Winchesters. Black 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Hunters. The most noticeable word was scrawled in dark red pen, covered several pictures on the wall, and had been circled so vigorously, some of the photographs underneath had ripped. MURDERERS. You fought back the heinous memory of Isobel's mother dying right before your eyes. You were not a murderer. None of you were. You had tried to block out a lot about that case, but one thing you would never forget was how many people that witch killed. If anything, she was the murderer.

On the floor below the disturbing picture board, crumpled up pieces of notebook paper were everywhere. Cautiously, you knelt to pick one up, smoothing out the creases so you could read. The scratches of ink on the paper were mostly indecipherable, but you could still make a few things out. Dean's name, and several locations scattered across the country. Were these all the different places he had gone after he left?

"Y/N." Again, Dean's voice got your attention. He stood a few feet away, in front of another wall next to you. "You're gonna want to see this." You could tell it was bad by the graveness in his tone, but nothing could have prepared you for what was on that wall. Countless pictures, just like before, but this time, they were all of your mother. Instead of the notebook paper crumpled on the floor, several sheets were pinned next to the photographs. As you read them, dread stronger than any you had felt before rooted in the pit of your stomach.

Takes trash out every Thursday at 7:00 PM. Goes to grocery store every Sunday at 12:00 PM. Goes to sleep around 10:00 PM. Wakes up at 6:30 AM every day unless it’s a weekend (8:00 AM) or raining (7:30 AM).

How long had Isobel been watching your mother to know all of this? Your eyes landed on the blueprints and layouts of your childhood home, marked with red x's on every entrance point. She was insane. Absolutely out of her fucking mind; Driven to madness by grief and revenge. You had already suspected it when she killed her only son like it was nothing to get your attention. But this? This was solid proof. You released a shuddering breath.

"This is sick," you finally said. "She's been watching us - all of us - for years."

"Ah, I see you've found my little project." You knew the voice before you even whirled around. Only one other time had you heard it, but it had haunted your dreams almost every night for over a month. Both you and Dean raised your guns in a heartbeat, only for them to be yanked from your hands by some invisible force. "Apologies," the witch said in a sickly sweet manner.

"Dean!" you cried out in panic. Dean was practically snarling, and rage boiled behind his eyes.

"You bitch!" He made a move to lunge, but before he could, Isobel twirled her hand through the air in a simple motion. "Suffocetur!" Just as had happened on the night of your first encounter, all air was stolen from your lungs, leaving you choking. Dean, who was in the same state, wasn't faring much better. "As I was saying," she went on. "I would've been a much more welcoming host when you arrived, but I had other matters to attend to." Your eyes began to water as the corners of your vision darkened slightly. "You see..." The witch smiled wickedly at you. "You come to my home, I come to yours." Through the panic of not being able to breathe, you caught her meaning, and your fear doubled. "How well do you think your warding will fare if they've been burned off?" She laughed mercilessly. "Dii magiae hinc me!” With a flash of blinding light, she was gone, and you could breathe and move again.

"The house!" you were somehow able to get out between coughs. "We have to get back to the house!" Dean eased an arm under your shoulders, despite the fact that he was also trying to breathe normally again, helping you regain your bearings as you rushed to the car.

Flames. Flames and black smoke. That was all you saw when Dean came to a screeching halt in front of your mother's house.

"Mom!” you screamed as you and Dean sprinted up the walkway.

"Sam!” Dean bellowed at your side. With impressive strength, the green-eyed Winchester rammed his shoulder into the front door, knocking it clean out of the frame in one go. The heat of the raging fire burned your face, and the smoke stung your eyes as you scanned the rooms urgently. "Sammy!" Dean yelled, racing over to a heap on the living room floor. You rushed over, helping him to sit while Dean roused him. By some miracle, the youngest Winchester opened his eyes.

"The witch-" he stammered.

"Sam, where's mom?" you demanded. Sam shook his head as he coughed.

"She was upstairs when I-" That was all you needed. Without waiting for another second to go by, you took the stairs three at a time, praying you would make it to her.

"Mom!" Your screams were barely audible over the roar of the flames, but you didn't care. If there was any chance at all that she could hear you, you would scream until your throat was bloody and raw. When she didn't answer, fear coursed through your veins again. She was alive. She had to be.

You were running purely on adrenaline when you finally made it to her bedroom. “Mom!” you yelled again, coughing as you did. The smoke was much thicker now, which was not a good sign. The house groaned in protest around you as you heard glass from the windows exploding downstairs. Unable to open her door, you rammed your shoulder into it as Dean had, but with no luck. “No!" You smashed the heel of your boot into it once. Twice. Three times. Finally, the door gave way, and you crashed ungracefully into the room.

Flames licked at your feet as you covered your mouth and nose with your sleeve, fighting to ignore the pain. Then, you saw her. Motionless on the burning floor with the hilt of a dagger sticking out of her chest. “No!” you shrieked. Charred planks of wood blocked your path to her, and you shoved them away, unfazed by the way they burned your hands. The thick smoke choked you as you tried to move aside the past piece of wood, unsuccessful yet again.

Strength waning, you collapsed to your knees, coughing heavily. This wasn't how you were supposed to die. The ceiling began to crumble around you, and spiderweb fissures appearing in the paint. With a loud crack, a large wooden beam broke through, its unforgiving aim directly above you as it began to fall.

“Y/N!” You were yanked out of the way only a split second before the beam made contact, crashing through the floor exactly where you had been moments before. Dean lifted you into his arms effortlessly and sprinted back down the stairs and down the front walkway as you gave a weak cough. Tears streamed heavily down your face, though you weren't sure whether they were caused by all of the smoke or the traumatic events you had just been subjected to.

As Dean set you in the backseat of the Impala, climbing in next to you, you vaguely heard him yell at Sam to start driving. The tires peeled out against the asphalt, leaving the smell of burning rubber. You knew Dean was talking to you as you stared out the car's back window, but you couldn't hear a word he said. All you could do was watch as the flames engulfed the home you grew up in, with your mother inside.

Thank you for reading!

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Chapter 13: Back to Reality

My Everythings:

@cole-winchester @alexwinchester23 @1-am-made-of-stardust @thorukindig @fiftyshadesoffandom6783 @hobby27 @supernaturalenchanted @organicpurplepants @odysseyofasiren @defenderrosetyler @crystal-lilac @youshrimpdickfucknugget

Only You:

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#Supernatural #fanfiction #Supernatural fanfiction #Only You #Only You series #Only You chapter 12 #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #reader #female reader #original female character #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #Dean Winchester x original female character #crazy-ass witch #case solving #death #grieving #house fire

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entropychanges · 4 years ago

Text

Tell me what you’ll do, please

So, Michael, dripping like a wet mop on the restaurant’s tile floor, stood silently as he looked between the sister of the girl whose murder he covered up only two months ago, and his lover who would rather be sent off to war than be with him. Great. He swallowed, figuring he may as well break the silence.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure if-”

“The kitchen is closed,” Liz interrupted, looking him up and down before saying, “but you can stay until the storm lets up.”

Or, in which Michael gets caught out in the rain while sleeping in his truck, and ends up taking shelter in the last place he wants to be.

also on ao3

title (from phoebe bridger's demi moore) precedes the lyric "I dont wanna be alone" which is kind of a central theme in Michael's mindset in this fic

warnings for mention of Michael's injury, very brief and vague mention of toolshed incident near the end, lots of talk about rosa's death and liz's mourning, michael has self worth issues, michael and alex say mean things to each other bc they’re sad and scared and just like a lot of angst

(3054 words)

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When Michael woke from his drunken nap, he sobered up immediately at the feeling of his blankets being drenched and the sky being far too dark for his liking.

He knew it was going to rain that night, and had even felt it in the joints of his mangled hand. What he didn’t predict, however, was that he was going to sleep for a few more hours than he intended, waking up in the middle of a storm rather than to the late afternoon desert sun.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he hissed, scrambling out of his truck bed and attempting to gather his linens. As he piled the soaked pillows and blankets he realized that he’d stupidly kept his bag of clothes beside him as he slept, leaving him with nothing dry to change into. He shoved his belongings into a sopping pile on his passenger seat before rushing to the other side of the truck cab and turning on the ignition with shaking hands.

Safe from the weather outside, Michael cranked up the heater and stripped off his shirt, huddling against himself for warmth. He ran his fingers through his curls in an effort to squeeze the water out, but to no avail. He sat like this, shivering and pathetic, for about 20 minutes before deciding that he needed a plan B. He didn’t have enough gas to use his heater for any extended period of time, and he wouldn’t have enough money for a refill until Sanders paid him for his work that week.

So, he decided to head into town to see if he could find somewhere that would let him stay inside for the duration of the storm without expecting a dime out of him. Normally he would try the library, but that closed at 8 and according to the clock on his radio, it was around 11 pm. Damn it. Hardly anything in this sleepy town was open past 10 on a weeknight other than the bars, and the storm wasn’t helping his chances.

Monsoon season was probably the most detrimental time for his beloved old Chevy that he called home, and tonight was no exception. He could hardly see through his windshield with the mix of dust and rain smattered across it, the high-velocity winds forcing his wipers to barely keep up. He was able to see enough to drive, though, as well as to recognize the signs on the shops and restaurants. They were almost all closed, as he’d suspected, except for one - the Crashdown still had its lights on and as he pulled into a parking space in front of it, he could see two figures inside. Liz Ortecho was wiping the counter as she spoke to the person in front of her, whose back was turned to Michael.

Only a few months ago, Michael would be too embarrassed to walk into the Crashdown at half-past 11 looking like a drowned rat and ask for a favor from his academic competitor. Now, though, Liz was going through her own living hell, which Michael felt partially responsible for, and had no room in her life to pity some punkass kid that lived in his truck. So, he swallowed his guilt and pride and shame and made his way out of his car and into the pouring rain. Without giving himself a chance to rethink this decision, he threw open the diner’s door, bringing attention to himself far too dramatically.

And, well, shit. Maybe he would’ve been better off using his fake id to spend his night with the racist alcoholics at the Wild Pony.

The first thing he noticed was that Liz looked rough. She clearly hadn’t been sleeping, as her eye bags were dark and evident, and her skin was paler than usual. She stood stock still at his cinematic entrance, her face full of annoyance and exhaustion. She no longer looked like the nerdy girl-next-door that Max had a crush on. She looked older than her age, and, in a sense, she was. She was going through more sadness than most had in their entire lifetimes, and that thought sent a spike of pain in Michael’s chest.

It reminded him of that selfish anger he’d been repressing since that night; anger at Isobel for killing the girls, anger at himself and Max for covering it up, anger at whatever entities left the three of them on this planet in the first place. He usually tried to shove those thoughts down before they ate away at him, but that was impossible when the consequence of their actions was quite literally staring himself in the face.

He glanced at the figure sitting on the stool across from Liz and his stomach dropped. Of course, it just had to be the very person Michael had been avoiding for the past two weeks.

He watched as Alex’s face morphed from confusion, to brief concern, and finally an annoyance that rivaled Liz’s. The last thing Michael wanted was to relive the fight they’d had after Alex told him he was enlisting in the air force.

Alex called Michael a violent alcoholic that was wasting his life.

Michael compared him to every birth and foster parent who had abandoned him.

Alex said Michael was no better than his abusive father.

Michael said that was funny seeing as he was following in his daddy’s footsteps.

It wasn’t pleasant.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure if-”

“The kitchen is closed,” Liz interrupted, looking him up and down before saying, “but you can stay until the storm lets up.”

Michael nodded, flinging water from his hair. He sat in the nearest booth, looking at his hands. He didn’t exactly have a plan for what he’d do if someone were to let him in. Maybe he could sleep? He didn’t think Liz would appreciate having to wake him up to kick him out once the rain stopped, but making conversation didn’t seem like much of an option.

When he looked back over to see that Liz had bent down to clean below the counter, Alex was still staring at him. Michael glanced back down at his hands, but it was too late. Alex approached the booth and stood over him.

“Hey, Alex.”

“What happened?”

“I fell asleep and when I woke up it was raining and all my shit was wet,” he said, still looking down.

Alex furrowed his brows. “It started raining around 8.”

“I guess I went to bed early.”

“Is that your way of saying you passed out drunk?”

Michael raised his gaze to glare at Alex. Alex glared right back.

“Can we not do this right now?”

Alex huffed a sigh and sat across from him. Michael leaned back and turned his head, watching the downpour out the window. They sat in silence for a minute until Alex spoke up.

“You need to change your splint.”

For someone that “wouldn’t be Michael’s medicine”, Alex sure liked to act like his doctor. But, he wasn’t wrong. Michael’s splint was soaked, making it functionally useless.

“I have some gauze in the truck, I’ll fix it later,” he replied, still staring at the rain.

“Just grab it now, I’ll help you do it.”

Michael turned back to Alex. “What? No, I-”

Alex stood up. “Get the gauze and I’ll meet you upstairs.”

As Alex turned away, presumably to ask Liz if she was cool with him bringing the personified version of a stray dog found in the gutter up into the small apartment she shared with her grieving father, Michael conceded and ran back to his truck to grab the gauze. He could never really say no to Alex. He rushed back in, covering the gauze with his body to prevent any rain damage and, with a quick “bathroom’s on the right” from Liz, he ran up the stairs to meet Alex in the tiny restroom that Liz used to share with Rosa. Used to. Michael shuddered at the thought. He was too sober for this long night.

Except, Alex wasn’t in the restroom. He was nowhere to be found. Regardless, Michael closed the door gently and began peeling the gauze off his hand, the feeling not dissimilar to applying a strip of wet paper-mâché to a surface. He winced at the pain, which he’d been ignoring until then, and wished he had some acetone to take the edge off.

He glanced at the medicine cabinet. Maybe…He opened the cabinet and there it was, half a bottle of kroger brand nail polish. Jackpot. Once he finished his second swig, the door handle started twisting. Shit. He used his telekinesis to put the bottle back in the cabinet and close the door, all while rinsing his mouth to cover the evidence. He didn’t want to think about what Alex’s reaction would be to finding him drinking Liz’s nail polish remover straight out of the bottle. “Seriously, Guerin? Alcohol not enough of a buzz for you anymore?”. Alex always called him “Guerin” when he was disappointed or mad at him. Lately, that seemed to be more often than not.

Alex peeked his head in slowly, as if to give Michael privacy, which was frankly adorable, seeing as how many times they’d seen each other at least partially nude. When he saw that Michael was decent, he opened the door completely, revealing that he was carrying a pile of clothes and towels.

“Here, change into these,” Alex commanded, handing him the clothes. His clothes. Michael’s ears turned red against his wishes at the thought of wearing Alex’s clothes.

“”You always have a stash of clothes at the Ortecho’s, or is this just my lucky night?” he asked, removing his wet t-shirt. Alex turned away, making Michael roll his eyes.

“I would usually come here when things got ugly at my place. Arturo didn’t mind me sleeping on Liz and Rosa’s floor, so I kept some of my stuff here. Tonight I’m here for Liz, though,” Alex explained.

Michael removed his pants. “You know you don’t have to turn away when I’m changing, right? We’ve seen each other naked, like, a hundred times.”

Now it was Alex’s turn to blush. “I think a hundred is a little hyperbolic,” he said as he turned around to face Michael.

Michael ran the towel down his body before finally ruffling his curls dry. “Well there was our first time... “

“Obviously.”

“And the time in the cab of my truck just a few days later…”

“That was just uncomfortable.”

“And then a week later when we had that picnic out in the desert at midnight…”

“Ugh, that was just gross. Do you know how many spiders and scorpions are out there? Definitely wish I’d kept my pants on for that.”

“And then add a few more in the back of my truck and that should add up to one hundred!”

“Still a hyperbole. I’d say that’s 8, total. The rest at least one of us kept our pants or shirts on.”

“Sorry, I forgot to add the ones from my dreams.”

“Oh god, please shut up,” Alex said just a little loudly, making Michael snort and put a finger to his lips.

“Shh, Alex, c’mon. No need to wake up Arturo by discussing our epic sexcapades.”

Michael was now fully dressed in Alex’s clothes, wearing a burgundy sweater that felt softer than anything he’d ever worn before and black jeans that were just a little too tight. He looked at himself in the mirror and cracked a smile.

“Maybe I could pull the emo look off, huh? What do you think, darlin?” He added the “darlin” as a test. When Alex was actually pissed, the pet name only ticked him off even more. When Michael was starting to get back on his good side, he brushed it off and pretended he didn’t like it, even though he definitely did.

Alex suppressed a smile. Score.

“I think you’re ridiculous. Now lean against the sink and hold this washcloth.”

Michael raised an eyebrow but did as he was told.

“Here, hold the washcloth like this,” Alex said before gently moving the fingers on Michael’s left hand around the cloth. It hurt like hell, but Michael did his best to hide it. He didn’t like Alex seeing him in pain, especially when he knew Alex blamed himself. Michael didn’t want him to have another reason to feel guilty.

“It’s good of you to come over here and be with Liz. She seems…” He trailed off, not sure of what he was planning on saying. She seems, what, bad? Exhausted? Depressed? Like she’d just had her favorite person in the world taken from her, and now the entire town was spreading lies about her? He just let Alex finish his thought.

“It’s just what friends do. She needs support right now,” Alex murmured, wrapping the gauze around Michael’s fingers. “She’s leaving town, too, soon. Which is a good thing, I think.”

Michael stiffened at that. He already knew Liz was leaving, of course. He was just as responsible for that as he was for Rosa’s postmortem defamation. It’s that “too” that hits. Maybe it was the buzz from the acetone or the thrill of Alex watching him undress, but either way Michael was able to forget for a second about the coldness that had been between them just a few minutes ago, and the reason for it being there. That little word, “too”, was a painful reminder that hurt just a little more than the feeling of his disjointed bones being squeezed too tightly by Alex’s makeshift splint. Michael inhaled sharply to indicate this.

“Shit, sorry, let me make this a little looser.”

Michael looked down and shook his head a tad bit too violently, trying to indicate that he didn’t give a damn about the stupid splint.

“What? What is it Michael?”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, knowing he was diving headfirst into the argument he was trying to pretend had never happened.

“You can’t go.”

Alex dropped Michael’s hand, which he’d just finished putting the last piece of tape on.

“Goddamn it, Michael, did we really not spend enough time talking about this already? I’m sick of my father looming over me, and, let’s face it. I’m not like you. I can’t just waste my life in this garbage town forever, sustaining myself on whiskey and bar fights.”

Michael opened his eyes back up and realized he had tears welling up. It wasn’t because of what Alex had said, words and insults didn’t phase him anymore. It was that his deepest anxiety was becoming his reality. Michael was going to be left behind, yet again.

He was used to pushing his fears down, but right now he didn’t want to repress. He wanted Alex to understand exactly how he was feeling, no matter how childish or pathetic he sounded in the process.

“I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t want to be alone.”

He looked up to meet Alex’s eyes. The other boy’s face melted from the defensive hardness he’d held before to something much softer. It wasn’t piteous, it was just… sad.

“I don’t want to leave you Michael. I definitely don’t want you to be alone. You’re the only reason I’ve ever even considered staying.”

Michael looked down again. His words were sweet, but they held no meaning. It didn’t matter how much Alex cared about him, he was still leaving.

“You know this doesn’t have to be goodbye forever, right? I’ll be coming back after basic, and then I’ll be coming home on leave whenever I can.” Alex cupped Michael’s face with his hands, forcing him to look up at him. Memories flooded in of their first kiss, when they cradled each other’s faces in the UFO emporium. Michael mirrored the movement and leaned in to Alex’s space, but didn’t close the gap. Instead, he watched Alex closely, reading the earnesty in his eyes. It seemed like he truly believed they could still be together, even through hell.

It was Alex that made the move, pressing Michael into the sink behind him and tenderly kissing his lips. Their movements were slow and gentle, much different from their usual sexual intensity. This was a different kind of intimacy. They touched each other lovingly rather than lustfully, their focus not on rushing to make each other come, but instead on patiently memorizing every detail they could. They were so enraptured with their shared space that the outside world seemed to melt away, including the door that was being pushed open behind them.

“Oh shi-” they heard behind them, shattering the moment. Alex jumped away, terror in his eyes. Michael’s heart was in his throat. Of course, it was just Liz, who didn’t actually care about their romantic involvement, just that they didn’t have sex on her bathroom sink. Still, the last time they were interrupted like this wasn’t a night they wanted to relive.

“I just wanted to let Guerin know that it stopped raining,” Liz said, her eyes turned to the floor uncomfortably. This was her polite way of saying “please get out of my home it’s past midnight and I’ve been waiting for you to leave for half an hour”, so he took the cue for what it was and headed out the door with a nod.

“Hey, Michael?” he heard from behind him. He turned back around.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving in a week. I’d like to see you before then, to say goodbye.”

Michael gave another small nod, and headed down the stairs at twice his usual speed, not wanting either of them to hear him cry.

When he got to his truck, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon. So, instead, he devised a plan to ensure he wouldn’t be around whenever Alex decided to schedule that goodbye.

And this plan required Kyle Valenti’s hubcaps.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #roswell nm fic #liz ortecho #malex angst

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stayextrafrosty · 4 years ago

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I am Your Future, I am Your Past

A Roswell New Mexico soulmate AU

Description: Soulmate AU based loosely off a manga I’ve read recently. The Manes and Guerin family lines have been drawn together for generations. A curse placed on the original lovers forces them to endure trials where the Guerin’s take any damage inflicted on the Manes’. Present day, Alex Manes has no idea about his family history. Then Michael Guerin, of all people, shows up saying he’ll protect him no matter what.

Warnings: Homophobic and racist language, violence, angst

Pairing: Alex Manes/Michael Guerin

Minor/side pairings: Michael Guerin/Maria DeLuca, Alex Manes/Forrest Long, Liz Ortecho/Max Evans, Isabel Evans/Maria DeLuca

Rating: Explicit

Title from the song “Take on the World” by You Me At Six

Read on AO3

Prologue

Back in the days of ritual sacrifice, there were two families. The Guerin family served the Manes. The two children grew up together, playing, studying, learning to fight. As they got older, their parents began forcing them apart, for the Manes Princess could never be seen with a Guerin slave.

The two children snuck out at night, talking about how it would be different someday. Someday they could be friends openly. As they moved into their teenage years, things changed again. Nights were spent in each other’s arms. Soft sighs as they memorized the feeling of their bodies. It was bliss.

They were discovered by the princess’ father one night. He beat the slave boy, breaking his hand for daring to touch his daughter. They were forbidden to see each other. The slave boy was held back and hidden from view when the Head family was around. The princess cried for her friend and lover.

The yearly sacrifice to the gods was upon them. And a white flag sat in the front courtyard of the Manes estate signaling it was to be their daughter presented. The lord stole his daughter away, forcing her into a small shed in the dark corner of the grounds. He had no intention of getting in the way of the sacrifice for she had disgraced him. But he knew the slave boy would try to stop it.

The slave boy knew the grounds like the back of his hand. He had to memorize the best routes to take when the two of them had been sneaking out. He located the small shed with ease and tried to encourage the princess to run away with him. She cried for him, wishing she could. But this was her duty. She didn’t want to anger the gods, or worse, her father.

The slave boy went to her every day and every day tried to talk her out of being the sacrifice. Her resolve weakened as she listened to the promises her made her. He would protect her. They would run as far as they needed, until they could be together. The night before the sacrifice was to take place, they ran.

The family chased them, the slave boy protecting the princess with everything he had. But it wasn’t enough. They had almost made it out of town before they were caught. Lord Manes had come prepared to perform the sacrifice himself.

She made no sound as the arrow pierced her back and heart. She stumbled and fell to the ground. The slave boy cradled her body in his arms. He was going to be next. But the lord didn’t kill him. He wanted the boy to suffer without her. They were left among the trees.

The boy pleaded to the gods to save her. Let her live. Let him take the pain instead. They heard his plea and granted his wish. With conditions. The future generations would be forced to feel this same pain. They would be drawn together as the lovers were, facing trials to prove they were truly meant to be.

The boy took on the princess’ wounds, dying in her place. She wept but continued living for his sake. She would always love him and every one of her reincarnations would too…

The story of the original lovers was passed through generations. Every few generations would go through trials. The pair rarely survived to complete them. Men and women died senselessly. Always drawn together by the curse for the sick enjoyment of the gods.

Chapter 1

Michael Guerin always scoffed at the old books and stories. Or at least he did. Then the marks appeared on his chest. A geometric looking flower with five diamond shaped petals. He fought the urge to go looking. No way was he going to start taking on the pain of someone else. Besides, Alex Manes was in the past.

He didn’t even know the history. And why would he? He had three brothers who probably all knew it, and nothing ever happened. All the reincarnations had been a man and a woman. So, unless Alex had a cousin, some mistake had clearly been made.

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket while he was elbow deep in a junk car. He tried to convince the customer that it was a lost cause, but the guy wouldn’t hear it. Michael could fix almost anything, even this old ford. But he knew when it would just be a waste of time.

He wiped his hands on his jeans before pulling out the phone, trying to avoid getting too much grease on it. His girlfriend’s name lit up the screen and he smiled. They had gotten off to a rocky start, but things were easier now.

“Am I running late for something again?” He grinned even though she couldn’t see it.

“No, but would it kill you to be on time for once,” she said sarcastically.

“Look DeLuca, I gotta make an entrance. So, what did you need from me today?” He wished he could see her roll her eyes.

“I just wanted to remind you that we’re having a welcome home party for Alex. You remember him, right?” How could he forget? Michael clenched his fist, flinching at the pain from the areas that were broken.

“Yea. You want me to come along or something? I will for you, but I don’t want it to be weird. We weren’t really friends.”

“Ok but Liz is bringing Max so that doesn’t really matter. You’ll know someone.” Michael sighed. Him and Max haven’t exactly been on talking terms. He and Isobel had been able to escape the thumb of the family. They knew the story of course but no mark had ever appeared on them. In fact, it was a miracle one had appeared on him at all. It usually made itself known in the high school years. At least, that was the pattern.

“Alright. Are you hosting at the Wild Pony?”

“Yea. Open bar and everything,” she said knowingly. Michael laughed.

“You know me so well, Maria.”

“But of course. So I’ll see you later. Love you!” The line clicked off. The sun passed behind the lone cloud in the sky, providing the briefest of relief from the desert sun.

Ten years ago, Alex left. He didn’t even say goodbye. They weren’t good for each other and they both knew it. Michael slammed the hood of the car a bit harder than he meant to.

“Hey! Don’t need you breakin’ customers cars,” his boss, Sanders called to him. The old man was half blind and pushed a lot of work onto Michael but he also let him live on the lot. He couldn’t complain.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m heading out for the day. I’ll come in early to finish this up. Or maybe you could just call him back and convince him that this is a lost cause.” Sanders shook his head.

“If I do that, then he won’t pay.” He stepped back inside the small trailer he used for paperwork. Michael headed over to his own trailer. The least he could do was change clothes. He considered hooking up the hose to his trailer to shower too but then Sanders would be all over him about operating costs. He tossed his dirty shirt on the pile that needed to go to the laundromat.

“Ah, fuck it,” he mumbled to himself. He didn’t want to embarrass Maria by smelling like sweat and old car. He laughed at himself. Alex has always liked-

No! He wasn’t going to let himself finish the thought. It doesn’t matter anymore. They weren’t friends. They were hardly acquaintances anymore. Alex Manes was just a guy who happened to share the same name as the stupid prophecy.

Alex sat outside the Wild Pony in his car. He hadn’t been here in ten years. Was he ready to get back to life as normal? He wasn’t the same kid that left to escape home all that time ago. He was broken. More than he was then. Missing a leg. Nightmares that haunted him.

He shook his head and stepped out of the car. He knew he was early, but he couldn’t help it. It eased the anxiety. This wasn’t war. It was ok if his brain wasn’t running a million miles a second.

The dust covered his shoes as soon as he set foot back in Roswell. Something that didn’t change when he went to Iraq. It felt new and familiar. He raised a hand to his chest where his friends had slapped a tattoo on him but refused to admit it. It wasn’t bad, just strange. A geometric flower with diamonds for petals.

The pull of Roswell was never something he understood. He just knew he had to be here. Leaving was hard but it was for the best. The first thing that had happened when he got back was his father lecturing him. No familial connection at all.

Alex clenched his fists and moved toward the doors. This was no time to be thinking of the past. The door stuck in that familiar way. His crutch stuck to the ground but not enough for it to hinder his movements.

A smile settled on his face as he took in the surroundings. Nothing had changed except for the neon sign that had all the letters lit up. Maria must have had someone fix it. No one sat around the pool table though it was set up. A group laughed and he turned toward the bar. He watched as Max Evans and Maria DeLuca attempted to hang a sign. It was clearly much bigger than they had planned. Liz and Rosa Ortecho held a glass of something and laughed as Max wobbled on the step latter.

“You guys know this wasn’t necessary right?” The four of them turned to look at him. The three girls jumped up and rushed over to him. Maria dropped the sign, leaving Max to stop it from knocking bottles over.

Liz and Rosa wrapped him in a tight squeeze and he laughed at their excitement. He had missed this. Hugs were rarely exchanged in the air force. It usually requires an almost death. Maria joined the group hug, but the extra weight was pushing him off balance.

“As much as I love all of you, I think this would be easier if it was one at a time.” They all laughed, letting him go slowly.

“I told you not to be here until six! Why don’t you listen to me,” Maria whined? She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Because when have I ever listened to you,” he joked back.

“Ok so you’re still that little boy who is a good kid but trying to be bad? Got it.” Rosa grinned as she pulled him in. “I’ve missed you, Manes.” Alex rolled his eyes at her.

“Rosa, come on. No need to pull out the friendly insults as soon as he walks in. You could always insult her back you know.” Alex laughed as she hugged him.

“Nah, I think I’ll spare her for now.” The group laughed again as Max came up beside Liz. They had never been close but they got along. And Alex knew Liz loved him. He reached out a hand, smiling kindly at him.

“Welcome back, Alex. Oh, and thank you for your service,” Max said. He reached out and shook his hand.

“You know I just did this for attention right?” Liz’s mouth dropped open in mock surprise as they all started laughing. Alex followed the group to the bar. Max and Maria resumed their task of trying to hang the banner. Alex offered to help but they refused, stating he shouldn’t set up for his own party.

Other people showed up as the evening went, some helping add decorations that he truly believed were unnecessary. Old friends from high school stopped to catch up and thank him, though he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. His time in the service wasn’t always for causes he believed in. He lost count of the number of times where he realized what they were doing could be considered wrong.

Maria checked her phone for the twentieth time, mumbling about how “he was late.” She mentioned in a letter she had fallen for a guy that ended up being surprising. Apparently, he used to be some regular at the bar. She didn’t think good of him, but something changed.

“So, do I get to meet that guy you were raving about in your last letter?” Alex took a sip of his drink, raising an eyebrow at Maria.

“I mean, that was the plan but apparently he’s ditching. Or he just wants to be fashionably late,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Of course, I guess you might know him. He did go to school with us.” Alex racked his brain, but no one stood out. Maria sighed and shrugged.

Alex felt a tugging in his mind. In his heart. It happened occasionally overseas when he was homesick. Must be the nostalgia of the Wild Pony. He jumped as Maria moved suddenly.

“There you are! Took ya long enough.” she bounced out from behind the counter. Alex chuckled as he turned in his seat to meet the mystery man. He took a sip of his drink as he did and nearly choked.

A cowboy hat sat on his head but the curls refused to be tamed. Alex watched as Maria wrapped her arms around his waist and he kissed her head. Then he turned his eyes on him.

Every memory he had successfully suppressed while he was away came flooding back. Alex glanced down at his hand. It was still messed up from when his father had- He looked away quickly. Michael Guerin… he never thought he’d see him again. Pain tugged at his heart but also something so incredibly right that that world could end and he wouldn’t care.

“Alex. Welcome home,” he said. He wanted to cry. There was a warmth in his voice that was so familiar. Memories of nights in Michaels truck or in that shed overwhelmed him. He was a still just a boy when it came to Michael.

“Uh yea, thanks. Nice to be surrounded by sand again,” he said, trying to sound confident. A small grin made its way onto Michaels face. Alex returned the smile, hoping it wasn’t as nervous as he felt.

“Alright, DeLuca. You got me here on the promise of free booze. Why not pour shots for the three of us?” Michael took a seat next to Alex, arm brushing against his briefly. Alex ignored it in favor of the tequila Maria was placing in front of them.

Michael didn’t know how to react. He hadn’t expected to simply look at Alex and have every old feeling resurface. His heart tugged at his chest, telling him to just reach out and touch him. To hold him close. To protect him with every fiber of his being.

“Ok but just because I could now kick Kyle Valenti’s ass doesn’t mean I want to. I’m trying to avoid violence.” Alex took another sip of his drink, his cheeks beginning to look flushed. Michael tried to hide his grin. He had never heard Alex so confident and comfortable. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking but it was a side of him he’d never seen.

“Maybe a bad idea to kick his ass these days. Guy’s a doctor,” Michael pointed out, taking a sip of beer. Alex raised an eyebrow and looked to Maria for confirmation.

“He’s not kidding. But hey, maybe he’s changed. Not like you’re the same kid from high school,” she said, raising her glass in a half toast.

“You can say that again. I might have wanted a tattoo then but when my buddies slapped one on me, damn I wanted to kill them. Course they deny everything. Assholes,” Alex said, laughing. Maria’s mouth dropped open, but a smile soon replaced it.

“Oh my god, where?” She could hardly contain her excitement. Michael had to admit he was curious. Alex shook his head and began to unbutton his shirt and he had to stop himself from choking on his drink. Was he really going to strip here? “Woah, maybe I should have cut you off earlier,” Maria joked. Alex rolled his eyes and grabbed the shirt to move it to the side.

“No. I’m not that far gone.” The flower on his chest reflected some of the lights, making the diamond petals look iridescent. Michael's eyes widened at the familiar pattern. There was no way this was happening now. Not after all this time.

“It’s not horrible considering,” Michael said, trying to act natural. Maria agreed with him as she reached out to touch him. Not that it would feel different than the other skin. As Alex readjusted his shirt, Michael felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Max, a serious look telling him to come right now.

He told the two he’d be back and followed Max outside. He must have overheard the conversation. Maybe even saw the tattoo. Michael knew what lecture was coming. The look of pity and misplaced apologies.

“Michael. You have to talk to him. He doesn’t know anything about that mark.” Michael sighed.

“Yes Max. I get it. You forget I’m part of the main branch. Just because my parents are dead doesn’t change that.”

“And yet you’ve avoided learning anything about the past incarnations.”

“What’s there to know? Things are going to happen that will likely kill us both and we have to get through ten of them or the curse will just continue to a later generation. Actually. Better idea. Why not just not have kids? Then the curse can’t continue, problem solved.” Max scoffed at Michael's plan.

“You idiot. That’s why there’s side branches. We took you in when your parents died and you’ve done nothing to try to survive,” he scolded.

“I didn’t ask you to do that! Why not just let me figure it out myself?”

“We are family, Michael. Isabel and I refuse to let you do this alone.” It was Michael’s turn to scoff. His humorless laugh must have made something in Max snap.

Max grabbed his shoulders. Shaking him and eventually shoving him back. Michael lunged at him. He hadn’t been in a fight in a while and he needed it. Michael swung his fist at Max’s face, only hitting his arm. He thought tackling would have been a better strategy but he tripped. Max grabbed him again, wrapping him in a chokehold.

“You care about Alex, don’t you? Of course you do. You can’t fight it Michael! If you do it for anyone, do it for him.” He clenched his jaw and tapped Max’s arm.

“He’s better off without this. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” Max shot an accusatory glare at him.

“You know that’s not how this works.” Michael shrugged and started back inside.

“We don’t know that,” he called back.

Michael looked around for Maria and Alex but they weren’t where he left them at the bar. He wished his heart didn’t immediately kick in to panic mode when he didn’t see him… them. He didn’t have to look hard. They had taken up residence with Liz and Rosa at one of the pool tables.

He watched from the door as Liz tried to convince Alex to play. He insisted he wasn’t good at pool and refused to play. Michael smiled, watching Alex run a hand through his hair. So what if he cared about him? Anything they had was over now. And he loved Maria.

Until Alex looked at him. Caught him staring. But he couldn’t look away. The tugging at his heart refused to let him. His fingers twitched in his pocket, aching to touch him.

Alex broke eye contact first. Though not by choice. Alex stumbled when some guy rammed a shoulder into him. Michael shook his head, brought back to reality.

“Watch where you’re going faggot,” the guy snickered. Michael thought he recognized him. The wrinkles on his face suggested he was older but he seemed to know Alex. Alex’s eye twitched slightly but he didn’t respond. Michael came up to the table just as Liz stepped into the assholes personal space.

“First of all, get the fuck out. You have no right to talk to a hero like that. You did nothing with your life after high school. You never stopped being a bully Chris and I’m glad it made you look like a fucking prune. Of course, the cigarettes also caught up to you. You are a worthless piece of shit and weren’t invited anyway.” Michael smirked. He saw why Max liked her.

He vaguely remembered the guy but he needed to reach way back. He thought this guy was an old friend of Kyle though he wasn’t sure about it anymore.

“Shut up you stupid alien. Don’t they teach you about respect where you’re from?” She looked surprised. But Michael wasn’t. This had gone far enough.

“Alright you fuck, time to go,” he said, grabbing his collar. Chris struggled in his grip but couldn’t pull free. Michael was pissed and anyone who was a regular here knew they couldn’t beat him when he was pissed.

Michael almost didn’t see the hand flying at his head. He released Chris and he stumbled, obviously drunk. But this asshole wasn’t giving up without a fight. His lunges were sloppy and slow, easy for Michael to avoid. He caught a glimpse of Max, watching from a table not far away.

“A little help deputy,” he asked, annoyed. Max sighed and grabbed Chris’ arm before he could throw another lame punch. Michael took the other and they hauled him out, throwing him to the gravel.

“Do everyone a favor and don’t come back you piece of trash,” Michael spit at him. Chris scowled before reaching behind him and pulling a fancy revolver from his waistband. Max and him shared a look before raising their hands slowly. He wasn’t sure if Max had a gun on him but because he was off duty, Michael wasn’t counting on it.

“Guerin!” Michael's eyes widened. He jerked his head to look behind him, at Alex. Michael heard the gunshot. He knows he did. He felt no pain, at least not right away.

Alex crumbled, clutching his arm though he hardly made a sound. Chris was stumbling away but Michael could hardly focus on that right now.

“Go after him, I’ve got this,” he said to Max. He nodded and ran after him. Michael rushed over to Alex trying to hold him up. His face was scrunched in pain, blood seeping into his flannel. “Damnit, Alex, why’d you follow us out here.”

“Cause I was worried,” he mumbled out. Michael sighed.

“You’re going to be fine. And don’t worry about me.” Alex raised an eyebrow at him.

“I was just shot. I would actually appreciate it if you called—” Alex blinked. Michael's arm started to ache, growing quickly to an agonizing throb. He ground his teeth together and stood, stumbling away from Alex. He could feel the blood start to flow down his arm. Alex was right. He would need a hospital.

“Wait, Guerin. What’s going on? What happened?” He grabbed at his arm where the wound used to be. Michael cursed. Of fucking course this happened. Now he had to explain it to Alex. He tried to make it to his car. Alex stood to follow him, though he was slow with the crutch.

“Damnit,” Michael muttered to himself. He jerked on the handle of his old truck. His arm was going cold. Losing too much blood.

“Michael.” He looked over his shoulder at Alex. There really was no use running.

“Look, Alex. I will explain. But right now, you need to drive me to the hospital.” Confusion danced on every one of his features, but his face set with determination quickly. He tried to help Michael as best he could to the other side of the car, but neither of them was steady with the extra weight.

“Here. Let me wrap it temporarily.” Michael’s eyebrows drew together but widened as Alex pulled his shirt off, tying it above the wound in his arm. “That should slow the blood flow. Hold your arm up as much as you can, ok?” Michael nodded, trying not to stare at him. He had a white tank top on, but he knew Alex was not the boy he used to be.

Alex sped to the hospital, probably breaking more than a few driving laws. It was a miracle he wasn’t pulled over. He screeched up to the front doors, nearly breaking the key as he tried to pull it out. He hurried as much as he could to help Michael keep his balance. They stumbled through the front doors.

“Hey, he’s losing blood fast! He might need stitches!” The edges of Michael’s vision started to go black and fuzzy. He felt the distant touch of hands. None he recognized.

Alex paced as much as he could outside the waiting area. What had happened. He knows he was shot. He grabbed at his arm again, but there wasn’t even an ache. It’s like the wound had transferred to Michael.

“Damnit,” he scolded himself. This was somehow his fault. He could feel it. He reached a hand over his heart, almost subconsciously. He frowned. Something did feel different.

He made his way to the bathroom and locked the door. Standing in front of the mirror, he watched in amazement as the tattoo glowed and dimmed a few times before one of the petals disappeared.

“What the hell…” He shook his head in disbelief. This wasn’t the tattoo he had thought his friends put on him. Maybe he should have listened when they said it wasn’t them. He made his way back to the waiting area as calmly as possible. He was greeted by Max and Isabel.

“How is he,” Isabel rushed out. Max rested a hand on her shoulder, nodding to Alex, like it was supposed to mean something. They shared a look.

“Michael’s getting stitched up. Should be done soon. But what’s with the pity looks and silent communication?” Isabel opened her mouth but shut it again with a look from Max. Alex gave a humorless laugh.

“It’s just better if Michael explains it to you. I’m sorry you’ve been kept in the dark so long,” Max said. He looked between the siblings. Before he could say anything else, the doors behind them slammed open, Maria rushing in with Liz in tow.

“Where is he? What happened? And I can’t believe you fucking drove! Are you stupid?” Maria pulled him into a hug. She was probably right. He felt sober as soon as he saw Michael hurt but that didn’t mean he was.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. And he should be fine,” he said, not sounding as confident as he hoped.

“Max what happened,” Liz asked gently, grabbing his hand.

“The asshole had a gun. He shot Michael while he was distracted.” Alex flinched at the words. It was his fault Michael was in pain. It was always his fault. Just like back then.

A throat cleared behind Alex. The group turned to the doctor. Kyle Valenti stood there, looking almost no different except for the beard.

“We stitched up the wound but couldn’t locate the bullet. It must have passed through his arm. So that’s lucky. He’s being moved to a room right now so you’ll be able to visit him,” he said, every bit the professional.

“Thanks Kyle. What room,” Liz asked?

“Follow me,” he said, turning. Maria held Alex’s hand the whole way there. She was scared. But Michael Guerin was not going to be stopped by something like that. Alex could feel him. Like his heart also beat within him.

The walk was short but tense. No one said anything. As if saying something would change Michael’s condition before they were able to see him. Kyle stopped in front of a door, knocking before pushing it open. Alex heard him before he saw him.

“You again?” Alex fought the smile back. Michael lounged with an arm behind his head, the other arm wrapped in gauze and in a sling.

“Hey, I brought people you like with this time. No need to glare at me.” Michael rolled his eyes before they settled on Alex. Though they only lingered a moment. Maria rushed to his side, grabbing him and kissing his head.

Alex hung back slightly, letting the others worry about him first. They would get their chance to talk. This was too important for Michael to not talk to him about.

“Let me make something very clear Michael Guerin. You are not allowed to get hurt like this again.” He chuckled as he sat up, hugging Maria.

“I’m fine. This won’t keep me down.”

“Maybe not but that doesn’t mean you can be careless,” Isabel noted. Alex thought she looked at him too but couldn’t be sure.

They didn’t get to stick around long. Visiting hours had technically ended before Alex had brought Michael in. Maria needed to be pulled away by Liz, promising her they would come back first thing tomorrow. Alex sat in the chair as he watched them leave. He just needed a couple things answered right now. It couldn’t wait.

“I’ll be back tomorrow to bring you home alright? Don’t give the nice doctors too much trouble,” Isabel said. Michael gave her a sarcastic salute as she was walking out. Alex stood from the chair slowly, moving next to his bed.

“Visiting hours are over, private.” Alex rolled his eyes.

“You know I haven’t been a ‘private’ in a long time, right?” Michael shrugged. He was avoiding the elephant in the room. “I’m not here for the banter, Guerin.” He let his head rest against the pillows, looking at Alex with that melting stare.

“I know,” he said. Alex waited for more but Michael just looked away from him. Was he shy?

“Any information at all would really be appreciated.” Michael half laughed and reached up to move the hospital gown to the side. The same mark that was on Alex’s chest was on his. His eyes widened, instinctively reaching to touch it.

Alex traced his fingers over the mark, petals reflecting the lights of the room. Michael's skin was hot, just like he remembered. He glanced up to meet his eyes. Michael slipped his hand over his, holding it in place over his heart. Alex felt his heartbeat speed up

Beeping from the heart monitor pulled them both back to reality. Alex jerked his hand away. He was just thankful the heart monitor couldn’t display his racing pulse. Michael cleared his throat and looked away.

“That mark is a connection. Looks like this counted as the first trial.” Alex’s eyebrows drew together. “Long story short. Our families have been cursed to be drawn together for generations to endure these trials. We have to get through all ten.”

“And if we don’t,” he asked?

“Then we’re dead.”

#malexweek20 #malex20 #soulmates au #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico fic #michael guerin #alex manes #michael guerin/alex manes #malex #thought about doing the other prompts too #but i havent decided #feedback always appreciated

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

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From A Whisper To A Scream (2/10)

warning: homophobia & kyle being a teenage dirtbag

ao3

1 |

Michael broke out the nail polish remover the next morning.

As much as he wanted to flaunt the black nail polish with pride, he wasn’t in the mood to have anyone assuming things that he wasn’t ready to share. And by anyone, he specifically means Isobel and Max. They knew Alex was his tutor and they knew he wore black nail polish, it wasn’t a stretch to figure out that he did it. And if they saw that he did that, they’d probably assume Michael let him do other things too.

Max, Isobel, and Michael had all made an agreement when they were young that they would have to settle for having each other. They wouldn’t date and they definitely wouldn’t swap bodily fluids with humans. They didn’t know what kind of damage they could do to a human and they also couldn’t risk anyone finding out what they were.

As far as he knew, Max and Isobel had kept that promise. Michael, however, had lost that battle awhile ago. He lost his virginity the same night he had his first kiss, namely because he lied to the girl that he’d already kissed someone before, and he went on such a shame spiral that even now, over a year later, he hadn’t told Isobel and Max that it was safe. He was too scared to.

He was extra cautious, obviously. He wore condoms, he pulled out, he made sure to keep bodily fluids in general to a minimum just in case. With the four people before Alex, it’d been easy. He slept with them and then he’d feel guilty and he wouldn’t talk to them again. Occasionally they’d tell other people and he would deny it and he would hate himself for it. Even now, he harbored so much guilt when it came to sex. He wasn’t sure if it was solely because of Isobel and Max or if the religious group home he stayed in for the first four years in Roswell actually instilled some of their religious shame, but it was still there.

But then there was Alex. He had no shame and no fear. Not about that kind of stuff, anyway. He was still cautious, but there was something about Alex that made him relax enough to fully enjoy himself. It’d been only about a month of it and he still regularly made sure it wasn’t fucking Alex up, but it felt safe. It was nice to let go for once.

What wasn’t as nice was the fact that he could tell shit was changing. Alex was the only person he’d hooked up with more than once and it was very obviously taking a toll on him. He wanted to see him more, wanted to touch him in ways that weren’t just to hook up. And then last night seemed different and it locked in all those fuzzy feelings for good. Hell, he was pissed that Alex couldn’t stay the night. He wanted to just lay with him for hours. Which was something he couldn’t do. Not when Isobel and Max couldn’t know.

He still wanted Alex. Dorky, talented, sweet Alex.

Michael pushed that thought completely out of his mind by the time he got into his truck to head to school. He had early practice to take care of which would hopefully remind him that being with Alex wasn’t an option. Even if it was fun and the nicest thing he ever got for himself.

The first half of the day went by quickly as he did his best to stop thinking about Alex. Which would’ve been significantly easier if he didn’t look completely fine while Michael was mentally planning their wedding.

Lunch rolled around and Michael sat with Isobel and Max, mindlessly shoveling fries into his mouth as he watched Alex with the rest of the band geeks. He was laughing and joking and didn’t look at him once. It was almost annoying. Didn’t he think the night before was different too? Or did Michael see something that wasn’t actually there on Alex’s end?

“Earth to Michael?”

He looked over to see both Max and Isobel looking at him with sheer concern. Which was warranted. He was fucking up and he wasn’t even hiding it. But how could he? No matter how much he tried to distract himself, he kept picturing Alex back in his bed and kissing him and listening to him whisper words of affirmation during sex. That was always nice.

“Who are you even looking at? Alex?” Max asked. Michael shrugged in response and they both fell quiet.

“You like him,” Isobel whispered. He didn’t respond right away and Isobel smacked his hand with her spoon.

“Hey!” he scoffed.

“You can’t like him,” she said, shaking her head, “And you know why.”

“I know, I know,” Michael sighed, slumping back in his seat, “It’s just so hard when he’s right there, you know?”

“Do you need someone to come with you during tutoring sessions?” Max asked. Michael rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a kid, I do have self-control,” Michael said and hoped that he wasn’t revealing just how little control he actually had when it came to Alex.

“Maybe you should dial it back though? I’m sure studying with him every day isn’t helping,” Isobel suggested, “I’m just trying to help.”

Michael stared at them and questioned if it might actually be worth it to just tell them. But what if they’re angry? What if they distance themselves from him because he’s risking their safety? What if, what if, what if.

“I’m fine. Seriously. We’re just friends. I can have friends, can’t I?” Michael sighed, looking back over to Alex. He caught his eye for the first time that day and Alex just smiled before looking back to his friends. Fuck.

“Guerin!”

Michael’s eyes snapped from Alex to Kyle who was strolling up to him. He had a love/hate relationship with him that was two sided. Kyle was a good player and he was nice when he wanted to be, but he was a follower and it got annoying and Michael knew he was pissed that he made quarterback. But that wasn’t his fault. He was just better.

“Yeah?" Michael said.

"Afterparty, my house," Kyle said. Michael had made a habit of stealing a couple hours with Alex after his games and his eyes instinctually went towards Alex. He could say no, but then they'd ask questions. And saying no to Alex wasn't an option.

"Can I bring someone?" Michael asked. Kyle raised an eyebrow and looked at Max and Isobel. "Not them."

"Who?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Whatever, man, just no one who's gonna trash the place," Kyle said, walking away. Michael rolled his eyes. As if the team wasn't going to destroy it enough.

When he looked back to Isobel and Max, they were looking at him with wary eyes. He shrugged.

"I'm allowed to have friends other than you guys."

"Yeah, but…"

"I promise I'm not going to do something stupid."

They didn't say anything, but they both seemed to think he absolutely was.

"Motherfucker."

"Sorry, sorry," Michael said, trying to hold back his giggles as he put his hand beneath Alex's head even though he'd already hit it on the side mirror of the truck. "You okay?'

"Stop laughing, you asshole," Alex spat, glaring at him. He pushed Michael away and felt the back of his head, checking to see that there wasn't any blood. There wasn't.

"I'm not laughing," Michael said even though he was a little bit. Not because he hit his head, but because he was feeling more than a little giddy. Alex had come over without Michael having to ask him to under the guise of doing homework and had all but pulled Michael out of his truck the moment they got to his trailer. He’d pressed Michael into the side of his truck to kiss him which was all fun and games until he tried to flip them and forgot how close they were to the mirror. “For real, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, no thanks to you,” Alex said, still glaring.

“You want me to kiss it better?” Michael offered. Alex rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder. Instead of pushing him entirely though, he used the movement to grab a fistful of his letterman and pull him in. Michael smiled and leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He could feel Alex relax in response. “Let’s go inside.”

Michael unlocked the trailer door and Alex followed. They pet Dog on the way to his room, but closed the door to it before he could follow. There was whining for a couple seconds before he quickly got bored of it and went back into the living room.

“So,” Alex said, looking at with eyes that could destroy Michael if he wanted to, “What happened to fuck ‘em?”

Michael smiled and slowly walked closer, holding his hands up in surrender and telekinetically locked the door while Alex was distracted. Alex's eyes immediately were drawn to his clean nails again before looking back to his eyes. He was so calm. It really did seem like the night before wasn't all that different to him at all.

"I can explain that," Michael said, "My friends would've put it together and I was protecting your modesty."

Alex rolled his eyes, but he wasn't smiling. Not even kind of. Michael watched him cautiously as Alex crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're really that scared of people knowing you're bi?" Alex asked. Michael blinked once, twice, three times as he processed the question. He shrugged.

"No, it's not that. Isobel and Max already know," he said. And they did know. Even if they only found out this morning from him staring too much. Alex furrowed his eyebrows.

"So it's me?"

Michael's eyes widened and he shook his head.

"No," he said, stepping closer, "Why? Do you… Do you want people to know?"

"No," Alex answered easily and Michael wasn't sure if he should be offended or not, "But I also don't wanna sleep with someone who thinks I'm an embarrassment."

"Definitely not," Michael insisted. He stood close, waiting for the green light he needed. Alex didn't exactly give him one. "Are you mad at me for taking it off?"

"No," Alex scoffed, "I am mad at you for making me hit my head."

"I'm sorry," Michael laughed, "Seriously. How can I make it up to you?"

Alex pursed his lips and pretended to think about it. Michael bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. He stepped out of shoes, kicking them out of the way before dropping his letterman on the floor. Alex's faux-thinking face had been replaced with a wild little smile.

"Blowjob, your highness?" Michael asked. Alex laughed that sweet laugh of his and pushed Michael's shoulder, but he retaliated by basically tackling him to the bed. Alex laughed louder as Michael tickles his sides, loud enough to make Dog bark from the other room and loud enough to make Michael's heart grow tenfold like he was the fucking Grinch.

"Stop!” Alex laughed and Michael reluctantly did, still smiling as he rested his weight on top of Alex who draped his arms around his neck, “I'm judging you so hard right now.”

"Judge yourself, you're the one in my bed."

"It's a pretty nice place to be," Alex said and it was enough to shut him up. He stared at him for a second and realized he was a goner. No going back. And that was okay. He'd handle the consequences later.

"Do you wanna come to a party Friday night after the game?" Michael asked. Alex's smile faltered and he furrowed his eyebrows.

"A party?" he repeated, skepticism in his tone. Michael kept it casual and shrugged.

"Yeah, Valenti's throwing it, but it could still be fun."

"Pass," Alex decided.

"I have to go though and we usually hook up on Fridays."

"I mean, just for the last couple weeks, I wouldn't say usually," Alex said. Michael's stomach dropped, but he wasn't ready to back out yet. "We can skip this week."

"I don't want to," Michael said, "Come. It'll be fun and you can stay the night after and I'll do whatever you want."

"Whatever I want?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. A thought crossed his mind that he might regret it, but he figured there was nothing Alex could do to make him regret anything. "Why the hell do you want me to go anyway?"

"Look," Michael said, swallowing his pride, "I… I felt like last night was different, didn't you?" Alex visibly held his breath and Michael quickly covered his tracks. "I was thinking we could chill as, like, friends? Or something. We can be friends, right?"

"And you wanna start that at Kyle Valenti's party? Do you know how horrible that sounds?"

"Stay close to me and no one will say shit to you, I promise," Michael said, "I just wanna hang out with you."

"Can't we do that not at Kyle Valenti's party? I really don’t want to go to his house," Alex grumbled. Michael stared at him. He didn't have a good reason why he wanted so badly for it to be at Kyle Valenti's party. Maybe because it means integrating Alex into that part of him, maybe because it was public enough for him to keep his composure, or maybe it was because he didn't want to explain why he ditched an after-party to smother himself in Alex Manes.

"I said I'd do anything."

"Too vague, gotta offer something specific."

"Okay, you're being diffi–"

"And nothing sexual, 'cause you do those with or without the party."

"Oh, come on!"

Alex smiled slightly, combing his fingers through Michael’s curls. Michael gravitated lower and kissed him slow. He hummed against his lips, ending the kiss and giving him a few pecks over and over before looking at him expectantly. Michael dragged his finger across his neck and plucked the collar of his shirt.

“Oh, you know what, your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it? I’ll have your payment then,” Michael said.

“Tell me.”

“I gotta think of something and I’m also not about to spoil your present,” he argued. Alex rolled his eyes which was juxtaposed to the fact his socked foot was slowly gliding up Michael’s leg.

“What happens if it isn’t good enough?”

“Then I’ll spend the rest of my life doing whatever you want, I guess,” Michael decided. Alex eyed him like he was deciding something important, his thumb reaching out and slowly tracing over his bottom lip. And Michael waited patiently.

“You really want me to go to this party, don’t you?” Alex asked. Michael nodded.

"No one's gonna fuck with you, I'm gonna make sure of it," he promised. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

"Fine, okay," he agreed. Michael smiled so wide that his cheeks hurt and Alex rolled his eyes.

Alex pulled him into another kiss and Michael decided he'd be okay if he never stopped.

Michael waited down the block from Alex's house, using his telekinesis to make the necklace hanging from his rearview mirror swing.

It was on the way from the school to Kyle Valenti's house, so it all worked out. He was a little nervous for the party, but he just needed to show his face for a little while and get out as soon as possible so he could spend the night taking Alex apart. Sex with Alex had always been good, but, ever since Tuesday night, it'd been fucking phenomenal. He wasn't sure what had actually changed, maybe just the fact that he didn't feel the need to come up with an excuse.

The truck door opened and Michael just let the necklace keep swinging as he looked over to Alex. His eyes immediately widened. Instead of Alex's typical all black clothing, he had light wash jeans, a slightly worn red polo that looked like he might've stolen it from Kyle's closet, and normal sneakers in lieu of his combat boots. He still had makeup on, but it was very light in an uncharacteristic way and his hair was all combed.

"What are you wearing?" Michael scoffed. He still looked good, but it was not like himself. Alex looked at him like this was torture. And maybe it was. But he was going to make up for it.

"If anyone perceives me, I will scream," Alex said. Michael huffed a laugh.

“Don’t you think people will notice you even more if you show up looking so different?” he asked. Alex stared at him for a moment and took a few deep breaths before he sighed and grabbed the collar of his shirt.

Michael laughed as he traded the Valenti-inspired shirt for a black long sleeved Blondie shirt with handmade, purposeful rips and holes. He ran his hands through his hair a few times to mess it up. He even pulled out a small eyeshadow palette and rubbed his index finger in the black, mindlessly putting it on his eyelids without a mirror. Then he put his ring finger in the red and put that beneath his eyes which kind of looked like he had two black eyes, but it felt purposeful and antagonistic which made it work.

"Better?" Alex asked. Michael was smiling at him a little helplessly. He was unfairly hot.

"You wanna go back and get your boots?"

"If I get out of this truck, I can't promise I'll come back knowing I'm being taken to Kyle Valenti's house," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes at the exaggeration and rolled his eyes, putting his truck in first gear.

"Can I have a kiss then?" he asked. Alex looked at him like he was testing his patience, so Michael just flashed a smile and batted his eyelashes. A hand was placed on his cheek, though, and he could feel the cool metal of his rings as he was pulled in for a lazy kiss.

But then it ended sooner than he wanted.

"Thirty minutes and then we leave," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

"I have to stay for at least an hour."

"Forty five minutes."

"Alex–"

"Forty five minutes, I sit in the car for the last fifteen, you buy me dinner, and I sleep on the edge of the bed, not by the wall."

"Sold," Michael agreed, laughing slightly and he stole another kiss and then focused on actually driving.

Alex had only actually been in his truck once before and it’d been to hook up while it was raining and he couldn’t come over. Now, though, he fiddled with the radio like he owned the place. Michael personally felt like he was sitting too far away. They were friends, right? He could sit close if he wanted to. But, clearly, he didn’t want to, so Michael didn’t push.

Kyle Valenti lived in a relatively secluded house in the desert which made it a nice spot to throw a rager while his parents were having a nice weekend away. When they pulled up, there were already trucks and cars lining the driveway. Michael parked and looked over to Alex. He was staring straight ahead and breathing methodically.

“Forty five minutes,” Alex said.

“Forty five minutes,” Michael promised.

They were able to file into the party without much attention being drawn to them. A couple people looked at Alex sideways or congratulated Michael on a good game, but for the most part they were far too entranced in their own bullshit.

“See? No one cares,” Michael said as they found the kitchen. Alex didn’t really react, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his eyes more on the floor than other people. Michael put his hand on his back and leaned closer to be heard over the music that was shaking the walls. “You good?”

“I didn’t say I would act like I want to be here,” Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Try to have fun, will you?” he asked. Michael liked partying and he liked the idea of Alex being with him when he did. He didn’t like that Alex was dead set on being miserable. Alex looked at him.

“No.”

“Fine,” Michael said, “Do you mind if I drink?”

“Do you mind if I drive your truck home?”

“Right, got it, water,” Michael agreed. He gave Alex a smile in a probably failed attempt to cheer him up. He was doing his best not to be frustrated with him for being such a downer. He was here like Michael asked and that definitely mattered.

“Alex!”

They both looked over to see Liz by the fridge, holding her cup with her hand over it. She looked confused despite her smile and she held her free hand out towards him. Alex stayed put as she moved towards him, giving him a hug. He visibly lightened up in her grasp and Michael stupidly felt a little jealous that he wasn’t able to provide that same effect.

“What are you doing here? You hate parties!” Liz said. Alex shrugged a shoulder and nodded in Michael’s direction.

“Bribery from my student,” Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

“Not your student,” he said.

“Mhm, sure,” Alex said, though a smile played on his lips. Michael wasn’t stupid enough to think it had nothing to do with Liz’s hand on his side. She stayed physically close to him like she didn’t even need to be told or sober to be an anchor. Michael understood that.

“Wow, I didn’t know you guys hung out outside of studying,” Liz said, looking between them. They both shrugged it off, but she had a curious look in her eye. Michael assumed she’d know what was going on by the end of the night. “That’s fun.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Michael agreed.

“Oh!” Liz said, nearly choking on her drink as she thought of something mid-sip, “Perfect time to tell you about that guy Rosa went on a date with!”

“The one with the motorcycle?”

“Yes! Alex, his name is Scar.”

Michael sat there in the kitchen for a solid thirty minutes with Liz and Alex, laughing along to their stories. Alex was lighter when he was with her and he made jokes. They let him join the conversation with ease and he didn’t feel like he had to pick and choose. It had him wondering if maybe he’d miscalculated. He thought of the conforming thing he and Alex had talked about and considered that bringing him here around people neither of them liked wasn’t the right way to see how he fit. Maybe he should bring him around Isobel and Max…

Suddenly, a sharp pain hit Michael's brain and he could feel Isobel calling to him. It had him doubling over a bit and he pressed his hand to his forehead. Alex instantly put his hand on his back like Michael had done to him when they walked inside.

“Hey, you okay?” Alex asked. Michael couldn’t even answer as he pulled out his phone. He had five missed calls. Fuck.

"Yeah, I'll be right back," Michael said. Alex furrowed his eyebrows. "Isobel keeps calling, I need to make sure she's cool and it's too loud. You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," Alex said slowly like he was even more lost.

"Just stay by Liz," Michael said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before quickly leaving him even though he really didn’t want to.

He weaved his way through the crowd until he found the bathroom and he closed the door, immediately calling Isobel back. She answered on the first ring.

"Where are you?"

"At Kyle Valenti's party, where are you? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I'm waiting for Max to come pick me up from the library, but his phone died so I called you," Isobel whispered. He plugged the other ear to hear her better.

"Okay, what's wrong?"

"I..." she breathed and when she spoke again, her voice was even quieter, "I think I'm being watched."

"Watched?" Michael repeated, "By who? Why would someone be watching you?"

"I don't know," Isobel said, her voice cracking, "But I'm scared."

"Okay, okay, I... I can't really come get you, I’m, like, a twenty-five minute drive away. How far away is Max you think?"

"Um," she breathed, "I-I don't know? A few minutes, I think. Just stay on the phone with me, please?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he said. And he did.

They sat on the phone for about six minutes, making small talk about anything and everything to keep her mind off of being scared. He didn't like the idea that she felt like someone was watching her, but he hoped it was just her being paranoid. It was easy to be paranoid when there was an actual thing to fear.

Eventually, though, Max showed up.

"Text me when y’all get home, okay?" Michael said.

"Okay, I will, love you."

"Love you too."

Michael hung up the phone, tried to shake away his worry, and quickly left the bathroom to go find Alex. He went to the kitchen where he'd left them, but he didn't see him anywhere. He furrowed his eyebrows and went into the living room, standing on his toes to see either Liz or Alex in the crowd. There was no sign of them, but he did see a group of guys on his team laughing and mocking body language they decided was gay enough to make fun of. Michael got a bad feeling in his stomach.

"Have any of you seen Liz?" he asked. Where Liz was, Alex was bound to be. Hopefully.

"She left," Johnson said, dramatically rolling his eyes, "Bitch can't even take a joke."

"What joke?" Michael asked, eyeing them, "I wanna laugh."

"She brought the gay kid," Long laughed, "Didn't even ask. Jokes had to be made, she should’ve known that.”

"Oh, she brought him here?" Michael said, playing dumb for the sake of his own composure, "What was the joke?"

"It wasn't even that bad, I don’t know why she freaked out like that," Valenti said, "I just said, you know, he must really like hotdogs."

"Gave him one too!" Johnson laughed, gesturing to the ground. Michael swallowed as he spotted the smashed up hotdog on the floor. He huffed a laugh and hoped that Alex was the one to smash it.

"You wanna know the funniest part about it?" Michael asked.

"What?" Valenti asked. Michael took a heavy breath and looked him in the eye.

"I brought him. Not Liz. He was my plus one."

The three of them stopped laughing and the people around them started to listen in. Michael kept his eyes locked on Kyle. He knew he was bringing someone. He should've figured that out.

"For real? You brought him to my house?" Valenti asked, scoffing as if Michael was the one in the wrong. And maybe he was, just definitely not for the reasons Kyle was blaming him for.

“Yeah, I did,” Michael scoffed, “Why do you have to act like such a dick?”

“Why do you have to act like you wanna take one?”

“And what if I do?” Michael asked, throwing his arms out. That quickly made it go incredibly silent. It was stupid of Michael to say, but he was angry and he was still buzzing with anxious energy from Isobel’s call. So he said it anyway. “What are you gonna do? Fuck with me now?”

“You’re…” Long fumbled, eyes wide like he wasn’t quite able to piece it together, “You’re a…”

“Yeah,” Michael said boldly, his eyes still on Kyle. His face was borderline unreadable as he stared at him. It was like he was trying to piece together everything he knew about masculinity and being queer and trying to figure out how Michael could be both. It would’ve been funny if it wasn’t so fucking sad. “And I dare you to say shit. Alex might be too ballsy to tell someone, but I will go to Coach and you know what side he’ll take.”

Coach was notoriously intolerant towards the intolerant when it came to his team. They all knew the consequences, namely from when Coleman got thrown off the team for mocking Vasquez’s accent two years back. He didn’t play games and they all knew if Michael told, Kyle would be off the team in seconds.

“So you’ll stop being such a piece of shit to Alex, won’t you?” Michael said. Kyle’s jaw clenched even tighter. “Good luck getting Liz after this.”

Michael didn’t bother saying goodbye or gauging anyone’s reactions as he quickly started to head out of the door. He jogged all the way to his truck in hopes that Alex would be there like they agreed upon, but he wasn’t. Michael’s stomach dropped. This was just too much all at once.

Instead of getting in his truck and driving to find him, Michael just kept jogging down the dark driveway and then down the dark road that led towards town. It took a few minutes before he heard another pair of crunching footsteps and saw a shadow ahead of him.

“Alex!”

Alex slowed a little, but he didn’t stop walking. Michael caught up fast, though, and grabbed his arm. Alex whipped around and glared at him, his makeup smudged. It was dark, but Michael could tell that he had mustard stains on his shirt.

“I’m so sorry, I swear, I thought they’d leave you alone,” Michael insisted. Alex laughed dryly and tried to smile a little cynically, but it was more than clear that he was about to cry. “Alex, c’mon, let’s just go back to the truck and go to my house.”

“No, you know what, I’m not doing this with you,” Alex said, taking a step back, “Hooking up with you while knowing you’re in the closet is one thing, but being your friend while knowing you hang out with homophobes? Yeah, no, not doing that, I already have enough of those people in my life. I’m not doing this. I’ll be your tutor, but that’s it.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Alex, seriously? I know that wasn’t great, but‒”

“That’s not the point!” Alex snapped, a couple tears rolling down his cheeks and breaking Michael’s heart in the process, “I didn’t want to come here! I knew that shit was going to happen and I did it because you wanted me to! You wanted me to go into a place where you knew people there were going to attack me! And I let you! That’s not fair!”

“I know!” Michael said, torn between wanting to move closer and knowing that was a bad idea, “I’m sorry! It was stupid and I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again. Hell, I just came out to them, so I’m probably not gonna be invited to anymore parties with them.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Alex asked, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know you didn’t,” Michael said, “But you’re right. I need to stop listening to their bullshit and pretending it doesn’t affect me. I’m trying, okay? And I’m so, so sorry. I thought I could keep you safe, but, you’re right, I shouldn’t have put you in that position in the first place. Please, please, please don’t stop being my friend. I’ll do better. I swear, I’ll do better.”

Alex scoffed, “Friend.”

“What?”

“If this is how you treat your friends, you’re a shitty friend,” Alex said. Michael licked his lips. He didn’t really know how to say he never really had a friend before to use as a good reference, so he didn’t.

“Well, good thing I don’t wanna be just friends with you.”

Alex stared at him for a moment, so still that the moonlight was able to catch him in just the right way to make him glow. He was stunning even with the makeup running down his face and his stained shirt.

“You have absolute garbage timing,” Alex said, voice a little rough. Michael laughed softly, taking a slow step forward.

“Yeah, probably. But I still mean it,” Michael said honestly, “Please just come back to the truck and we’ll talk. I fucked up, okay? I’ll do better. I’m learning. But I’m out to them, so I have no excuse anymore for being stupid. I’m calling them out from now on, I promise you. I’ll prove it to you if you’ll let me. But I don’t want you walking home in the dark like this, but if you want me to take you home, I will.”

Alex licked his lips and took a few deep breaths, clearly making him wait for it.

“Can I have your soft pillow when we get to your house?”

Michael made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sigh of relief. “Alex, I will literally give you whatever you want.”

That seemed to be the right answer when Alex moved forward and wrapped his arms around his waist for a hug. Michael wrapped him up right back and breathed him in, not even caring that he was probably ruining both of their shirts. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest after the hectic last thirty minutes, he needed it.

“What did Isobel want?” Alex mumbled against his shoulder.

“She got scared and needed me on the phone until Max got there.”

“Oh,” Alex breathed, “Okay.”

“Where did Liz go?”

“Drove off, I guess. I think she was more upset that Kyle was being annoying more than she was actually upset with what he did,” Alex whispered, “I love her, but she’s dumb about boys.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

Alex sniffled and squeezed him before letting go.

“Can you go get the truck and just come get me? I don’t want to go closer to the house,” Alex said. Michael nodded without hesitation.

“Don’t move,” he said. Alex gave a thumbs up.

Alex spent the night cuddling Dog and Michael decided he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.

#Malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #rnm fic #my fic #verse: from a whisper to a scream #next chapter is where shit starts to hit the metaphorical fan

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captainsassmanes · 5 years ago

Text

Maybe it’s all Part of a Plan

Everyone had fallen head over heels for Tess Harding. She was the new blood in town, turning all the heads and charming everyone off their feet.

Michael was not impressed.

There was something about her that made him uncomfortable, something that felt too familiar. He’d tried mentioning it to Isobel and Max, but they brushed it aside, claiming he was just being paranoid and needed to relax.

She seemed to be everywhere he was. If Isobel had a dinner party, she’d be there. Drinks at the Pony? She’d get the first round. Lunch at the Crashdown? She saved everyone a seat.

“Mikey, do you think you’re just not used to nice people?” Liz took a bite of a fry and raised an eyebrow. Michael scoffed in response. “I know nice people. You’re okay.” He got a smack on the arm for that. “There’s just…ah! I dunno, but there’s something.”

Liz leaned in conspiratorially. “You think she’s from—” as she pointed to the ceiling.

Michael rolled his eyes and whispered, “no. I think we’d pick up on that. She’s just not supposed to be here. With us”

*******

That night would turn out to be one of the most bizarre of his life.

Everyone had gathered at the Pony to celebrate Kyle’s birthday. Maria had pulled out the karaoke and the drinks poured freely. She had brought so much light and happiness to his world that had once always felt thick and suffocating. He did everything he could that night through his buzz to focus solely on her; her smile, the feel of her soft hand on his arm, the wink she threw his direction.

But Alex was there.

Alex who was clearly putting on a brave face for his friend but would have rather been anywhere else. Michael took a drink as he watched Alex scrape the polish off his thumb. He sat slightly away from the others, hands held in his lap and eyes remaining steadily on Kyle.

Michael’s chest tightened at the sight. Alex’s boyfriend, a complete tool named Forrest, had been a complete whirlwind with his blue hair and tight, black clothes. He’d been funny, or so everyone always said, and made Alex laugh in a way that made Michael want to crawl into bed and never leave it again. Then suddenly Forrest was gone, and Alex was different.

He was sad.

Michael knew, conceptually, that Alex had always walked around with a dark cloud over his head. Who wouldn’t with the tyranny of Jesse Manes hanging over them? But Alex had worked his entire life on hiding it, keeping that part of himself hidden away.

It was upsetting to see it so obviously on display now.

After draining his beer, Michael headed back up to the bar to order another, waiting patiently as Maria served other customers.

“She’s beautiful, that one.”

Michael groaned and rolled his eyes. Tess had snuck up on him, all blonde hair and pouty face. She smelled like cotton candy, too strong and too sweet.

“Yes, she is.”

“So’s he.”

Michael glanced at Tess; eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Who?”

She let out a giggle and nudged him in the side. “Don’t be coy. It doesn’t work for you.”

Michael made a face, one he hoped said he didn’t care, and said “whatever,” before turning to face the bottles behind the bar again.

“Why are you with Maria when you love Alex?”

Slamming both hands onto the bar, he pushed his stool back and turned to Tess finding her cool and completely unbothered.

“I don’t know what your deal is but back off, okay? I don’t love Alex. Don’t know if I ever did. I love Maria.”

He watched as a sadness swept over her features before he closed his eyes with regret, immediately realizing his mistake. He saw the glass get placed on the bar next to his empty bottle, chipped, black polish coating the nails of the hand that placed it there.

He turned slowly, afraid to see the look on Alex’s face.

Alex was taking money out of his wallet, shaking hands struggling to pull the bills apart.

“Alex, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, Guerin.” He threw down a twenty and looked at Michael with watery eyes and a fake smile. “I needed to hear it.”

He left quietly, getting lost in the rowdy crowd covering the floor. Michael stood, debating what to do. His stomach turned as he imagined Alex crying, Michael making him feel worse than he already had.

Deciding he could only dig the hole deeper, he sat back down, putting his head in his hands. He fucked up again.

Tess cleared her throat next to him. He looked up, mood changing from annoyed to spoiling for a fight. “What is your deal, Tess? Who are you? Why are you everywhere all the fucking time?”

She took a sip of her fruity looking drink and smiled once again. “I’m just here to help, Michael.”

“To help who?”

“You.”

He laughed and took her drink, downing the sickening concoction in a desperate move to start forgetting about this evening.

“Michael.” He looked at her, completely exasperated. “I think you’ve created a lie in your head to justify your life and the decisions you’re making. You’re ignoring the truth and it’s going to hurt so many people in the end.”

Michael just shook his head and rubbed his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Tess rolled up her sleeves and sighed, the first sign of frustration she’d ever let slip. “I do. Just let me show you.”

“Show me?”

“Yep. It’ll just take a minute.”

Before he could ask what would, her hand was on his arm and his vision went white.

When his eyesight returned, he was in Maria’s bed, alone and with a raging headache. Thinking he really needed to cut back on drinking, he stood and headed to the bathroom.

It was when he was throwing water on his face in the hopes of becoming coherent again that he noticed the ring. A plain gold band on his left ring finger. He stared as the water continued to run, filling the sink to the point of overflowing.

He took it off and moved it between his fingers. “What the fuck?”

Michael ran out of the bathroom, flooding be damned, and tore open the dresser in the bedroom. He found his boxers, jeans, t-shirts mixed in haphazardly with Maria’s underwear and bras, her tank tops.

He moved into the living room, searching for more proof of what he was beginning to think was a life he didn’t remember. Staring at him on a shelf above the TV was the photo. Maria looked beautiful; hair pulled back with a stunning white dress. He looked awkward in a suit, a bright shade of blue and a pink flower stuck in the lapel. He took the photo in his hands, fingers tracing the image. An odd mix of emotions warred in his chest. Comfort that he had a family, a woman he loved and who loved him. A home.

But what about…

Michael placed the photo delicately back on the shelf and went back into the bedroom to find some clothes. He needed answers.

Downstairs the early crowd was taking up space at the bar. It took seconds for his eyes to land on Maria. She was glowing, just radiating beauty and confidence, and the smile that broke across his face couldn’t be helped. She turned to the till, eyes catching Michael and raised an eyebrow before turning back to the customer with a smile.

She walked over, all sass and hips, with a look of skepticism on her face.

“You’re awake then.”

He smiled and pulled her in by her waist. She still smelled the same, which, for whatever reason he took comfort in. He had no idea what this life was or what it meant, but some things never changed.

“Ew, no affection please. You’re supposed to stop that when you get married.”

Isobel was leaning on the bar, hair pulled back and make-up perfectly in place. He released Maria just to lean over the bar and hold onto Isobel’s hand, a maneuver that looked to startle his sister.

“Hi.”

Isobel tilted her head. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

She laughed, taking a sip of her drink. “Same as yesterday. You?”

“I have no idea, Iz.”

He had so many questions. He married Maria so he must have told her the truth, right? Did he own the bar, too? Was he still just the town drunk?

For whatever reason, those questions weren’t the ones to leave his mouth.

“Where’s Alex, Iz?”

She froze, one sleeve in her coat and looked uncomfortably around the bar. “Why are you asking me that?”

He shrugged, feigning indifference while praying she’d answer the question.

“The last one of us who heard from him was Kyle. Six months ago, now, I think. New York.”

He nodded and looked down at a water ring fading slightly on the bar. His finger traced the sticky shape, thoughts drifting to another time.

“Michael.”

He looked up and saw pity on his sister’s face. She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “You made the choice you had to make. You love Maria and deserve to be happy. The fact that Alex couldn’t handle it is not your fault.”

She gave him a small smile and headed out of the bar.

Michael was frozen. Alex was gone. He was the reason Alex left. He lived, once again, in a Roswell with no Alex Manes.

“Hey.” Maria had gently cupped his cheek. “You alright?”

He nodded, embarrassed by the tears in his eyes. Unafraid to take a risk in a world he didn’t understand, he said, “I miss Alex.”

She bit her lip and nodded back, pulling him in for a hug. He closed his eyes, resting his head on her shoulder. With her hands petting his hair, she whispered, “me, too.”

She placed a gentle kiss to the side of his head. “Love you.”

The light behind his eyelids was too bright and painful.

The Pony came back into focus with a smug Tess sitting next to him.

“I fucking knew something wasn’t right with you!”

She rolled her eyes and took another sip. “That’s your takeaway?”

Michael looked around. Nothing was new or different. “How much time passed here?”

Tess shrugged in return. “Maybe a minute.”

“So, what? You can predict the future? Show it to people?”

Smiling, she nodded. “Yeah. It’s a gift and a curse. I can’t manipulate it or anything, but I can see it coming.” She took another sip and spun around in her stool, facing the crowded bar.

Michael eyed Maria at the other end of the bar, still conversing with the same customer.

“What did you think?”

Michael rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I dunno. It was nice. Maria’s amazing and for some reason she loves me.”

“She does.”

They both sat in silence, Michael eventually turning to scan the room as well. He noticed Kyle getting increasingly drunk, dancing and overly supportive of anyone getting behind the microphone. Isobel looked like she hadn’t had a sip all night although Michael knew she was just better at keeping it all together. All his friends were present and accounted for.

Except for one.

“Is that a future you’d be happy with?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s good.”

“No one missing?”

Michael gave her the side eye, unwilling to share too much too soon.

“It seemed good.”

Tess nodded and faced him, hundred-watt smile in place.

“That’s good.”

She placed her arm back on his and, once again, the world went fluorescent.

This time as he blinked himself right again, he woke up in an unfamiliar bed. It was bigger than Maria’s, a bit softer, too, with the most comfortable pillow he’d ever slept on in his life. He was curious to see which version of the Magical Mystery Tour he was on now, but the bed was so damn comfortable he took a minute to just enjoy.

With a sigh and a side of nerves, he climbed out of the bed, not bothering to put any clothes on this time around. He looked down and noticed a nice pair of burgundy briefs he was absolutely sure he’d never waste money on if he had the choice.

He cautiously opened the door and tiptoed into a cozy space. A fire roared with a dog sound asleep in front of it. The whole room smelt of balsam and smoke.

“Take me into your loving arms. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.”

Moving quickly, Michael found the source of the singing and threw his hand over his mouth to cover his cry.

Alex stood in the kitchen, cooking at the oven, in essentially the same outfit as himself. His strong back was a little less tan but just as broad and Michael felt a wave of pride at the prosthetic firmly in place and on display.

It took a minute for Michael to notice the ring on Alex’s finger. He had moved just right, shifting the pan on the stove top, that it had caught the light shining in through the small window. He looked at his own left hand and brought it in front of his face. His ring was a silver color with a band of glowing, changing material in the middle.

His ship.

“You’re awake then.” He smiled wide at Michael, looking more comfortable and at ease than Michael had ever seen before. “Pancakes okay?”

Michael nodded dumbly, unable to form words. Alex gestured with his head to the end of the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready.”

Forcing his feet to move, Michael headed toward the pot, the dog in front of the fire propping its head up and wagging at his presence. He stopped and gave its head a pat, wondering what its name was. When he turned back, Alex was plating their breakfast and putting it on the small table. Before he could pass, Alex puckered up and closed his eyes. Michael was helpless to do anything but oblige.

Alex smiled before giving Michael another quick peck and a smack to the ass demanding he get them both caffeine.

Michael moved through this world like a dream, an out of body experience. His life with Maria had felt safe and friendly, nothing seeming to change. But this world? This was an Alex he was completely unfamiliar with, a man so comfortable with himself he was barely recognizable. He felt a wave of nausea as he wondered if he had been the key to this, to Alex’s health and happiness.

How the hell did they get here?

They sat together in amiable silence enjoying their breakfast. Michael almost stabbed himself in the mouth with his fork when Alex’s foot started roaming up his calf.

When they’d finished up and Alex was at the sink rinsing their dishes, Michael thought it was only fair to take the same risk in this world as he had in the other.

“Where’s Maria?”

Alex didn’t stop what he was doing, soap bubbles floating in the air around his scrubbing hands.

“Shit, I knew I’d forget! That’s ten bucks to Izzy.”

Michael shook his head and furrowed his brow, looking around the room.

Izzy?

“Maria and Isobel want us over for dinner tonight or tomorrow, whatever works for you. I know you were planning on going to the lab with Liz and Kyle for a bit this weekend, but I couldn’t remember which day.”

Michael lifted his hand to stop Alex from continuing and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. Maria and Isobel?”

Alex shut the water off and grabbed a towel for his hands. He leaned back against the counter and Michael physically held onto his chair to keep himself from pouncing on the perfection.

“Yes, Maria and Isobel. You alright?”

He could do nothing but nod, completely overwhelmed and confused.

Alex laughed and tossed the towel absently behind him. He stood in front of Michael, hand moving through his hair and straddled him. “You’ve been working too hard. You deserve a break.”

Michael’s brain short-circuited as Alex began kissing along his neck, nipping him in just the right spots. His hands slid up Alex’s bare back and held him close. He closed his eyes and blushed as a tear slid down his cheek. It must have landed on Alex who sat back with a look of concern on his face.

“What’s wrong?” He cupped Michael’s face and wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

Michael shook his head, holding Alex so tight he was worried he might be hurting him.

“I love you. I’m sure I don’t say it enough. I love you.”

Alex smiled and rubbed his nose against Michael’s.

“I love you more.”

As the white light began to creep in, Michael pulled Alex into a kiss and tried to push every ounce of adoration he felt into it.

When he opened his eyes, Tess was holding a tissue for him.

He took it quickly and wiped his eyes then blew his nose. He scanned the room making sure no one had noticed him get so emotional.

“How was that?” Tess raised her eyebrow and leaned in with a smirk. “Good?”

Michael sighed and shook his head. He found a few bills in his wallet and placed them on the bar. He took a good look at Maria, a woman who made him feel special, worthy, and knew exactly what he needed to do.

“Not good.”

Tess sat back, a look of surprise on her face.

Michael leaned in and gave her a quick kiss to the cheek.

“Great.”

He walked with confidence out the door, unsure of exactly what he was going to do but knowing exactly who he was moving toward.

#Roswell New Mexico #Malex #malex fic #canon divergent #angst #some miluca #but its me #so its not bad #introducing my version of tess harding #barely edited

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