#my rnm fic

[mintytrifecta]

Looks like somebody got passed down a family heirloom

[conanssummerchild]

ive dipped my toes into a little bit of unserious fic writing for rnm and i felt it was about time i dropped an autistic rick fic 🫡

ive had this idea circling around in my head for a while but i wasn't really sure what direction the fic would go in but ive decided to go for some good old internalised ableism (me writing angst? shocking /sarc) bcs rick never seems to see his autism as a disadvantage which is super slay BUT there is also a lot of difficult things to deal with being autistic and you know that old fucker hates admitting he needs help with anything so im gonna fucking force him to >:) this is set in like maybe season 2 or early season 3 btw just to make rick even less inclined to admit he needs any help !!

ok enough yapping, here we gooo

~~~

It was awfully quiet in the house for a Saturday afternoon. Usually by now Rick would've come barging into the living room, demanding Morty come with him and tugging him through a portal without waiting for an affirmative answer, always at least a little drunk on whatever he could get his hands on.

Today there was none of that, only fragrant smells of whatever dinner Jerry was cooking coming from the kitchen, juxtaposed with the harsh screaming match going on between him and Beth. Summer was scrolling on her phone absently next to Morty on the sofa as he pretended to watch some film that Jerry insisted was a masterpiece on non-interdimensional TV.

Overall, it was a normal night at the Smith's house from before Rick had come into their lives, but Morty wasn't relaxed like he would've been before, or even upset over having to listen to his parents' petty argument. No, he was ansty, fidgeting around enough to earn several annoyed glances from Summer.

He combed back through his memories, doubting whether he'd seen Rick today at all. He hadn't been at lunch or breakfast, in fact Morty hadn't seen him at all since their brief adventure yesterday, during which Rick had been in an increasingly foul mood. Had no one else even noticed his disappearance?

"I'm gonna check on Rick." He blurted out, stumbling off the sofa.

Summer didn't even spare him a glance.

He tried not to run down the hallway, nervous jitters going through his whole body. What if he had left again? No, probably not, Morty had seen his ship in the driveway. Shit– Rick had thousands of enemies, what if he was lying dead in his room right now?

Morty knocked on Rick's door so hard his knuckles stung a little, ignoring the small buzzing sound that accompanied the knocks. He heard a groan akin to one of a dying man and some shuffling from inside the room.

"Rick?" Morty called out to no answer, anxiety only rising.

He shifted nervously from foot to foot. If he just barged into Rick's room and he was fine Rick would be super pissed, but if he didn't and Rick was dying Morty would never forgive himself.

He shoved the door open. It didn't have a lock anymore. Morty held his breath as his eyes darted around the room, he feared it would look like a crime scene, but it looked... normal. He hadn't been in Rick's room that many times but, despite the darkness and slight mess, nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Well, that was, of course, apart from the translucent green force field type thing in front of the door.

He frowned, calling Rick's name again, but he was lying in his cot, facing the wall, unresponsive. Not even seeming like he'd heard Morty, the rise and fall of his tense shoulders the only thing showing he was still alive.

Morty chanced a careful touch to the force field, preparing for some kind of electric shock, but none came, only a quiet hum was emmited as Morty's fingers passed through. Rick moved again slightly, but other than that showed no visible reaction.

The field gave way easily and Morty passed though completely, standing meekly at the doorway of Rick's room. He was surprised to find that it was silent, like completely. No sound passed through the green barrier, not the sounds of sizzling pans, or the movie playing faintly in the background. Nothing.

"Rick? A-are you okay?" It wasn't said particularly loudly, but it felt that way in the complete silence.

No answer. He took a step closer, repeating himself louder, in case Rick just hadn't heard. "Rick? W-what's– is everything good?"

He expected anything, from Rick yelling at him to the person in the bed just being an alien wearing Rick's face, not even Rick himself.

He didn't expect Rick to cover his ears and curl into himself further.

"Uh-" Morty hesitated. His head hurt? Was he, like, hungover? Dying?

He only paused for a second more before turning and running out of the room, if something really was greviously wrong with Rick he would much rather be safe than sorry.

"Mom!" He called, running into the kitchen, interrupting the argument going on abruptly.

Beth downed a large sip of her wine glass, emptying it and setting it down on the counter with a sharp clink.

"Morty, honey, the adults are talking right now." She said, rubbing her temples tiredly.

"Mom, something's w-w-wrong with Rick."

"What?" That got Beth's attention, straightening from where she was topping off her wine once more. "What's wrong with Rick?"

"I don't know." Morty replied, agitated. "He's in his room just– just lying there, he's not answering me."

Beth was already heading in the direction of his room—not without grabbing her wine. "Come on, sweetie." She said to Morty.

"Wha- Beth, come on! We were having a conversation here!" Jerry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I have more important things to deal with right now, Jerry." She said coldly.

Jerry's complaints were drowned out by Morty's rushing thoughts as he led Beth down the hall.

She peeked into the dark room without passing the noise-cancelling field, expression changing when she saw Rick curled into a ball, hands still clamped over his ears. While her frown stayed, a sort of realisation flashed in her eyes.

"Um, I think your grandpa just needs a little bit of alone time right now, okay? Let's give him some space." She said, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

"What? Why?"

"He just... Well, honestly, I don't know. I just vaguely remember he would get like this sometimes when I was a kid, when he was stressed. Mom always told me to just leave him alone for a while. I thought he'd probably grown out of it, like it was a midlife crisis thing or whatever. Guess not." She gave a small shrug.

That didn't really answer any of Morty's questions and raised several more, but Beth didn't seem to have the answers.

"Okay."

"Okay." Beth echoed, taking a swig of wine, her demeanour changing back to a bored one. "Well, I gotta go deal with Jerry now, go play video games, or something."

For the rest of that day, and then one more after that, Morty waited anxiously for Rick to emerge from his room. He felt like he was losing his mind, all while everyone else didn't even seem to care that Rick was gone at all.

He was picking at his pancakes uninterestedly when he finally caught a glimpse of blue hair in the hallway.

"Rick!" He exclaimed, making the old man nearly jump out of his skin.

"Jesus fucking christ, M-Morty." He muttered, grabbing some orange juice from the fridge and downing it straight from the carton.

"What happened?" Morty asked, getting up from the table and hovering by Rick. No one told him off for leaving the table. He could tell that they were all listening in on the conversation.

"What happened when?" Rick asked dismissively, playing dumb. He rummaged around in the overhead cupboard until he found an opened box of wafers. "What– who the fuck opened my wafers?"

Morty rolled his eyes. "You did, last week."

"Oh yeah." Rick shoved a wafer in his mouth.

"Rick, come on, seriously, I was worried."

"Well then maybe you should mind your own business, Morty."

Morty huffed. "What so you'd prefer I didn't care about you at all?"

"Yes. Obviously. Why does that surprise you? I've clearly stated it on multiple occasions."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I do care about you, Rick. I just want to make sure you're okay, because it seemed like you weren't" Morty said earnestly.

"Ugh, I'm fine, Morty." He scowled. "Don't be so– so weird about it."

"I'm weird?! Y-you're the weird one, Rick! Wh-what the hell is wrong with you? You just dissapear for– for two days and won't even tell me why? Can you give half a shit about anyone but yourself?"

"Jesus, I was overstimulated! O-okay? I'm autistic! Is that what you want to hear? You– you fucking dick."

Morty shook his head lightly, processing the stream of information "...What?"

"What? You can't be autistic." Jerry chimed in from the dining room.

"Okay, Jerry, and you won't be alive when I stuff your tiny dick in your mouth and freeze you, so we can put you on the mantle like some kind of fucked up decoration with your balls hanging out. Wait, actually, you will be alive. You'll feel the whole thing. Suuuper painful."

Rick snatched up Morty's virtually untouched stack of pancakes and sauntered out.

A quiet washed over the table, Morty looking over at Beth and seeing that she seemed just as surprised as him.

"What, you guys seriously didn't know?" Summer's bored voice broke through the silence.

"Y- you did?" Morty asked incredulously.

"Uh, duhh, Morty. It's like super obvious?" Summer drawled, not even looking up from whoever she was texting on her phone.

"How is it obvious?!"

"Becuase, Morty, I'm not uneducated like all of you guys."

"What? Wh-whatever, I'm just– I'm gonna go talk to him."

Summer didn't grace him with a response.

Morty peered into Rick's room but he wasn't there, so he wandered towards the garage. As he approached, he could already hear the sounds of Rick tinkering with something or other.

"H-hey, Rick." He said carefully, but Rick didn't seem particularly upset, offering Morty a small grunt in greeting.

"S-sorry I said there was something wrong with you." Morty added.

Rick looked up this time, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

He went back to his project for a bit, but when Morty still didn't leave after several minutes he sighed, setting his wrench down harshly next to Morty's now half-eaten pancakes. "Yes, Morty?" He asked, irritated.

"I-I just... You could've told me, you know? That you're autistic. I'm not– you don't have to be, like... ashamed."

"Screw you, I'm not ashamed." Rick snapped. "L-look at me Morty, do you know how smart I am? You think any fucking neurotypical could ever reach my level of genius? Fuck no!"

He crossed his arms like a petulant child, pouting at the floor.

"Oh– Sorry." Morty stuttered. "I just thought..."

"What? That just because I'm autistic I have to be ashamed? Pretty ableist stuff there, Morty." Rick said sharply.

"No! Jeez, That's not– not what I meant, Rick. Jeez... I was gonna ask why you never t-talk about it, then?"

"Becuase it's none of y-your damn business, that's why."

"But– I mean, sure, but not even my mom knew. Did... did your wife? Did she know?"

Rick's shoulders tensed and he looked away, his loose grip on the table becoming harsher.

"R-rick?"

"She... knew." He said tightly.

"Did anyone else?" Morty made his tone a little gentler, seeing Rick wasn't exactly thrilled to talk about it.

"...Birdperson. And Squanchy."

"That's– no one else?"

Rick frowned. "My parents knew. But they didn't like it... Diane– my wife she was the first person I chose to tell myself."

"I'm sorry." Morty said quietly. "About your parents and... Diane."

Rick sat silently, staring at the work bench in front of him without saying a word.

"Is that... why you guys divorced, or?"

"No, Morty, jesus." Rick huffed. "She was actually the only one that didn't treat me like less than because of it. I mean, until BP and Squanch."

"So why–?"

"I don't want to talk about my failed marriage, M-morty." Rick sighed.

"...Sorry."

Rick shrugged.

Silence stretched on as Rick went back to his project again, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.

"It's embarrasing. Sometimes." Rick said haltingly. "When I get overstimulated. Becuase I know that doesn't happen to normal people and I don't like admitting I need help with things that other people don't. It's a sign of weakness."

"That's not–!"

"Shut the fuck up, Morty. This isn't a discussion, you got what you wanted out of me, so now you can fuck off."

"But, Rick you–"

"Morty, just fuck the fuck off."

Morty hesitated for a second, before lunging towards Rick and trapping him in a tight hug. Rick tensed up.

"Morty, you little shit, get off me!" Rick wriggled, trying to get out of Morty's embrace.

"I love you, grandpa. Thank you for opening up to me, I know it's hard for you." Morty whispered, which only made Rick thrash around harder. "I don't think you're weak, by the way. Or that there's anything wrong with you."

Morty finally pulled away from the hug and Rick crossed his arms again, his face now a little flushed in embarrasment.

"Don't do that again, you asshole." He grumbled. "I don't like it when you hug me."

"Sorry." Morty said, mostly meaning it. "Hugs always make me feel a lot better."

"Well I'm not you, Morty, and they m-m-make me uncomfortable."

"Sorry." He repeated. "But I-I still mean everything I said."

Rick pouted, turning away. Morty knew Rick was stubborn, and that he wasn't going to erase years of self-hatred and internalised ableism in a few minutes, but he hoped that one day Rick let him in enough to at least try.

"Okay, bye grandpa. Love you."

"Bye, asshole." Rick muttered back.

Love you too he thought, but didn't say.

+ extra

Rick had been in a shitty mood all day, and Morty could tell something was brewing under the surface, but he couldn't tell what until they were already on their way back home from grabbing some crystals from some drug planet Rick stole from all the time.

Usually Rick would be in high spirits after another succesful crystal-stealing mission, but today he just glared through the windshield, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Morty could tell that, despite his intense stare, he wasn't really paying too much attention, so it wasn't a huge shock when an large asteroid chunk flew into their field of vision and Rick didn't even try to swerve.

They crashed into the asteroid hard and an alarm started blaring, red rays flashing in the interior of the spaceship. Rick's hands flew over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Morty had seen this alarm go off several times, due to Rick's often reckless driving, and it usually didn't bother Rick very much at all, not warranting more than a curse and flipping the alarm off annoyedly.

Rick bit down on his knee hard as Morty hurried to shut down the alarm, Rick's hands moving into his hair and tugging when it was finally switched off.

Rick had a tendancy to hurt himself when he was overstimulated and it made Morty endlessly anxious. He searched desperately in the backseat for the noise cancelling headphones he'd given Rick and "forced him to wear" as Rick would say, but Morty could tell he appreciated it. Especially when he snatched them out of Morty's hands before he'd barely even handed them to him, shoving them onto his head agressively and clicking the button he'd added himself for improved noise cancellation, claiming the headphones were trash and that he'd had to modify them to make them at all a useful tool.

He slumped back in his chair with a sigh, his eyes were still shut but Morty could see the tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

"Do you want me to drive us back?" Morty asked, barely finishing the sentance before Rick was hitting the button that switched their chairs around so Morty would be in front of the wheel. Morty let out a small exclamation of surprise, but quickly took the wheel, putting the ship back on track.

Rick didn't say anything else for the short journey home, jumping out of the ship before it was even parked properly. Morty hurried to keep up with him as he unlocked the door. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the entryway and Morty almost crashed into him, managing to stop himself just in time.

"Thank you." Rick said gruffly, not giving Morty time to respond and just rushing off to his room.

Morty still smiled, though. He knew that was about as close as it got to his grandpa expressing affection.

"Love you too, Rick."

---

THE END IM CHEESEY OK I KNOW SORRY BYE

[eusuntgratie]

bad news: michael is still in his sexy little outfit

good news: i mostly finished the outline and have written some words

thanks for the tag @rewritetheending <3

Once he’s got everything worked out, Alex finds Michael hovering awkwardly on the sidewalk, pretty damn near naked in front of the nicest hotel in Beverly Hills. Without thinking, Alex wraps him in his jacket. It’s long enough to cover Michael enough to keep people from staring. Michael looks a little taken aback but he lets him. “I, uh. Was just gonna call a taxi.” Michael had shoved the $100 bill Alex gave him into his boot in the car. Alex strongly suspects he isn’t going to call a taxi. “Do you wanna come up?” Alex asks before he can think better of it.

no pressure tags <3

@bigassbowlingballhead @lostcol @taste-thewaste @rewritetheending @onward--upward

@basil-bird @stratocumulusperlucidus @firenati0n @firstprincehornyramblings @thighzp @stnichols

@insecuregodcomplex @faketrex @onthewaytosomewhere

[cyantt-does-stuff]

Prime returns early AU

So basically, in this AU, set around the start of season 5, Morty ecounters Prime a bit early. He has zero information on the guy. He doesn't know about C-137's past or what Prime is capable of.

I have a whole scene planned because we could have had so much more potential in canon. I wish we could have seen Prime and Morty interact more. That's what I'm going to attempt to do here.

I also want to explore how Morty chooses family over originality. He's had so much character development over the seasons and I am proud of him.

Anyways expect a fic about this sometime in the future!

[agentpeggycartering]

Well how can i not ask about "Buck F*cked an Alien"

Haha! So true! This is a crossover between the 2019 CW reboot of Roswell, New Mexico and 911! I decided that Buck ended up working on a ranch in Roswell on his travels, where he crossed paths with Michael Guerin, who was also working on the ranch at that time. They're friends, but they also become friends with benefits and sleep together while Buck is there. They keep in touch once Buck leaves town, bc they both need a friend.

There are two fics in the series, neither of which is finished. The first one is Letters from Roswell, and it's about Buck and the postcards and the team finding out about Michael, and the second fic is called Aliens Take Hollywood, and Michael and Alex come and surprise Buck for a visit in LA and he takes them on tour of his 'greatest hits' and it's a fun time had by all. I'm having to do a lot of reworking on the second fic, because I'm turning it into a bucktommy fic, which it wasn't originally.

I just think that Buck and Michael would be good friends for each other. I don't know if Buck ever finds out that Michael is an alien or not, but, either way, he fucked an alien. :-) I just censored it in the title bc it makes it funny.

You can read a few snippets that I've shared here and here!

[dr-lizortecho]

This year I’m going to do something a little bit special. I’ll be opening my ask box to smut prompts from now until February 14th!

With this comes the promise of me writing at least 100 words a prompt (given it’s not one of the few things that squick me out) with the potential of full length fics when the prompt inspires me enough. The only guidelines is the rarer the pair and the freakier the better! Feel free to submit as ever many prompts as you have- the only limit is it closes on Valentine’s Day.

Anon is on so don’t be shy! Link to ask box here

(as for things I definitely will not be writing: anything that in anyway connects to rnm s4, Isobel being or having been pregnant or having children, and/or anything that includes non/con. Thank you in advance for respecting my boundaries <3)

And a smut prompt list for inspiration purposes!

[jule1122]

Malex Fic - Maybe you'll come back as someone that you like

My @rnm-secret-santa gift for @dayscrazed. Canon divergent S1 fic that tries to figure out what would happen if Alex and Michael never got together in high school. Instead they hook after the reunion - Michael's a high school teacher back for the summer and Alex joined Deep Sky after he was injured in the Air Force. They both have secrets to keep, but fall in love. Alien drama with Noah and sibling bonding with Isobel. I hope this makes your holidays a little brighter!

Title from the gorgeous song "Life's Gonna Kill You (If You Let It) by Man-Made Sunshine

Maybe you'll come back as someone that you like on AO3

Summary:

“I used to steal your guitar in high school,” he tells Alex. “I know.” Michael raises his brow but doesn’t say anything so Alex continues. “You always returned it and tuned it better than I could so I didn’t see a reason to make a big deal out of it.” Michael laughs and shakes his head, “I was trying to get your attention.” When Michael and Alex hook up after their 10 year reunion, it was supposed to be a one night stand. They are both back in Roswell with secrets to protect. Falling in love wasn't part of the plan.

Alex sips his drink and does one more visual sweep of the room before caving and pulling out his phone.  “Where are you?” he asks as soon as Liz picks up.

“Alex?  Oh my god, is the reunion today?”  Liz sounds surprised to hear from him.

“Liz,” Alex groans.

“I am so sorry.  I meant to come, I really did,” Liz apologizes frantically.  “It’s just the samples came in and the preliminary report is due next week.  I haven’t even left the lab in like three days.  I completely forgot.”

“I hate you,” Alex tells her, but there’s no heat behind it.  It's his fault for not insisting the drive back together.  He knows how easily Liz gets caught up in her work.

“You love me and you know it,” Liz laughs.  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better,” Alex threatens before hanging up.  

Now what?  Alex only agreed to come to the reunion because Liz begged him to go with her.  The drinks are watered down, and the next person who thanks him for his service might not make it out alive.  Alex decides to cut his losses and leave, but he stops on his way out when he notices an open room off the main hallway.  Something is off with his prosthetic, and he should fix it before he starts the drive back to the cabin.

The room is bathed in blue light from a projector rotating through a slide show of high school pictures.  Alex ignores them, and props his foot up on an empty chair and rolls up his pant leg.  It doesn’t take time to find the problem and make an adjustment.  Alex pushes his foot against the chair and sighs in relief when nothing pinches or rubs uncomfortably.  He’s about to roll his pant leg back down when he hears footsteps behind him.

“Nostalgia’s a bitch.”

Alex turns and sees Michael Guerin standing in the doorway.  He knows him as well as he knew anyone in high school, maybe a little better since their social circles occasionally overlapped.  Michael was friends with Max Evans who has an obvious crush on Liz.  They hung out a few times, but weren’t close.  “I don’t know.  Other than a fully functional leg,” Alex taps his prosthetic because he refuses to be ashamed of it, “there’s nothing I miss about high school.”

Michael gives his leg a quick glance, but doesn’t linger on it.  “So why are you here?  It can’t be for the free drinks because they suck.”

Alex laughs, “I was supposed to meet Liz Ortecho here, but she bailed.  You?”

“Isobel organized the whole thing and threatened me with pain of death if I didn’t show up.”

Neither of them say anything for a minute, and Alex straightens up, ready to leave before things get awkward when Michael speaks again.

“I used to steal your guitar in high school,” he tells Alex.

“I know.”  Michael raises his brow but doesn’t say anything so Alex continues. “You always returned it and tuned it better than I could so I didn’t see a reason to make a big deal out of it.”

Michael laughs and shakes his head, “I was trying to get your attention.”

“Really?”  Alex asks.  It never occurred to him that Michael could have an ulterior motive for taking the guitar.

Michael shrugs, and Alex looks him over.  He’s grown into his features since high school - long legs and broad shoulders.  His tight jeans and light cream colored sweater look good on him.  It might be too warm for the sweater, but Alex can’t really justify his own leather jacket so he decides not to judge.  It’s Michael’s hair he can’t look away from - curly and wild, brushing the back of his neck - Alex wants to get his hands into it.  Alex hasn’t been with anyone since things with Forrest fizzled out and for the first time in a while, he wants.  “You have my attention now.”

“Do I?” Michael smirks and rocks back on his heels.  “You want to get out of here?”

“Desperately,”  Alex laughs.  They walk out to the parking lot together, pausing when it becomes time to go to their own vehicles.  “Do you still live in Roswell?” he asks Michael.

“Fuck, no,” Michael says, his face falling.  “I’m staying with Max Evans.”

Alex thinks quickly and realizes there is no reason he can’t take Michael to the cabin. “I’ve got a place if you don’t mind a bit of a drive.  You can follow me.”

Michael’s headlights remain steady behind Alex’s the whole time so he knows Michael hasn’t changed his mind.  He lets him in the cabin and watches the face Michael makes when he takes in the decor - all heavy furniture and dark would. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of place,” he finally remarks.

“It’s not,” Alex agrees.  “It’s Jim Valenti’s old cabin.  He left it to me when he died.  I’m only here for a short term assignment so I haven’t bothered redecorating.”

Michael nods, “Just tell me there won’t be any dead animals staring at us in the bedroom.”

“The only eyes on you will be mine,” Alex promises, holding out his hand.  Michael reaches back out and Alex leads him to the bedroom.

He immediately pulls Michael in for a kiss.  It’s heated from the start, Michael instantly opening his mouth for Alex.  When he gets his hands in Michel’s hair, it’s just as soft as he imagined - curling perfectly around his fingers.  Michael moans and tilts his head back when Alex tugs at his curls, and Alex turns his attention to Michael’s neck, sucking a mark just above his collarbone.

“I want to get my mouth all over you,” Alex tells him.

“Yeah?” Michael looks at him, eyes already heavy with desire, lips slick and shining.

Alex nods and nudges Michael onto the bed.  He strips Michael’s sweater off him quickly, and is moving toward his belt buckle when Michael laughs and starts to help him.

“All you had to do was ask,” Michael teases.  “Alex, please take your clothes off.   See how easy that was.”

Alex takes off everything but his underwear, Michael’s already seen his prosthetic so there’s no reason to hesitate.  Once Michael is naked, Alex lays down next to him.  He kisses him again, letting his hands roam over Michael’s body, learning the feel of him.  Michael’s more muscular than Alex expected, skim smooth and taut over his body.  It doesn’t take long before his mouth follows the path his hands had taken.  

Michael is beautifully responsive - moaning when Alex sucks on his nipples and grasping at Alex’s hair and shoulders when he licks and bites at the skin near Michael’s hips.  Alex licks his lips when he finally gets to Michael’s cock.  Michael is already hard and leaking, and Alex can’t wait to taste him.  He nudges Michael’s cock with his nose, breathing in his scent, but he stops at the last second, barely remembering to ask, “Do I need a condom?”

“No, I’m clean, tested and everything.” Michael assures him.

“Good,” Alex hates the taste of latex.  With nothing to delay him, he takes Michael’s cock into his mouth.  Michael hips twitch, not enough to choke Alex, but enough to push his cock in deeper.  Alex moans around him and licks at the shaft, pulling back until just the head is in his mouth.  He sucks at it then traces around it with his tongue.  When Michael gets restless, shifting on the bed and asking for more, Alex works his way back down.

As much as he wants to take his time, he’s hard himself and wants to get Michael off before he comes in his own underwear like a teenager.  He slides his hands under Michael’s ass and encourages him to move.  Michael takes the hint, thrusting carefully into Alex’s mouth.  It’s not long before Michael taps his shoulder, “Close,” he moans.

Alex nods but doesn’t pull back.  Instead he sucks harder, swallowing happily when Michael’s come floods his mouth.  He waits until Michael is still to release him from his mouth, resting his head on Michael’s thigh.

“Jesus,” Michael pants.  “You’re good at that.”

“Lots of practice,” Alex laughs.  He stretches out and moves high enough up the bed to kiss Michael.  He winces when his cock brushes against Michael’s hip.

Michael must notice, because he pulls back.  “Let me,” he gestures, reaching for Alex’s cock.  He waits for Alex to nod before pulling his underwear off, maneuvering it carefully around Alex’s prosthetic.  

“Lube?” Michael asks, moving away briefly when Alex points to the nightstand.

Alex sighs in relief when Michael wraps his hand around him.  He closes his eyes and moves to the rhythm Michael sets, thrusting up when Michael pulls back.

Michael’s other hand drifts to Alex’s ass, and Alex opens his eyes to see Michael biting his lip.

“Can I?”  Michael asks.

“Yeah,” Alex grants permission, spreading his legs to make it easier.  He shudders at the first brush of Michael’s finger over his hole.  He doesn’t do much more than that, stroking around his rim without pushing more than the tip of his finger inside.  Another time Alex would ask him to finger him, stretch him open while he jerks him off, but Alex is already on edge, and he just wants to come.  All it takes is the press of a second finger, and Alex is spilling over Michael’s hand.

By the time he catches his breath and opens his eyes, Michael is standing next to the bed, awkwardly gathering his clothes.  “I’m just gonna go.”

“Sure,” Alex shrugs.  He’s a little disappointed, but they both got what they came for.  “Bathrooms off to the left if you want to get cleaned up.”

“Thanks,” Michael gives him a quick wave and leaves the room.

Alex waits until he hears the front door close to get up himself.  He’s still tired from his orgasm, and all he wants to do is get his prosthetic off and take a shower.

The next morning, Alex begins reviewing the files for his assignment.  Reunion aside, he’s not in Roswell to socialize.  Since Deep Sky recruited him after his injury, his primary assignment has been decoding the alien artifacts and devices Deep Sky has acquitted over the years.  He’s only been told the bare bones of his family’s involvement with aliens and his own personal investigations have been stonewalled.  Director Ramos insisting on not allowing him to work on an assignment with personal ties.

But all that had changed with the discovery of an alien serial killer in Roswell.  Deep Sky needed to find the killer and neutralize the threat before Jesse Manes did.  Roswell is a tight knit community, and a stranger coming into town would draw too much attention.  With the reunion as the perfect excuse to bring Alex back, he was assigned the case.  Alex intends to leverage it for information on exactly what his father is up to.  No matter what Director Ramos plans, Alex will be the one to bring his father down.

Alex spends the day meticulously studying the files on each of the ten murder victims.  He needs to find something to establish a pattern, but so far he hasn’t found anything.  Due to how the alien kills the victims, establishing an exact time of death is impossible, and since the victims are vagrants, prostitutes and drug addicts with little or no family ties, there is no reliable information on when they were last seen alive.

Alex has given up for the day and is putting away his laundry when he spots the hat. Michael’s cowboy hat is sitting in the corner of the bedroom where it must have landed when Alex pushed it off his head.  The hat is black, and the bedroom doesn’t have the best lighting so he’s not surprised neither of them noticed it before Michael left.  He snaps a quick picture and looks for Michael’s name in his contacts, grateful they had exchanged numbers before leaving the reunion as a precaution in case they got separated on the way to the cabin.

“Forget something,” he tests Michael along with the picture.

There’s no response, but about an hour later, someone knocks on the cabin door.  Alex isn't surprised to find Michael on the other side.  It’s not like anyone else knows where he is.  “Hey,” he greets Michael, waving him inside.

“Sorry for just showing up, but I was out driving when I got your text and the signal’s not the best out here.” Michael explains.

“No problem,” Alex shrugs.  The hat is clearly visible on the coffee table, but neither of them move toward it.  “Are you hungry?  I could heat something up.”

Michael shakes his head.  “No, I’m good.”

“Is there something you do want?”  Alex moves closer to Michael, not quite touching him.

“You could fuck me,” Michael says boldly, closing the remaining distance between them.

Alex kisses him roughly, grabbing his shirt and pulling Michael along as he walks backward toward the bedroom, only stopping when he backs into the wall, startling a laugh out of Michael.

“Sorry,” Alex apologizes.  “Still getting used to the layout.”

“It’s fine,” Michael kisses him again, quick and bruising before taking Alex’s hand and leading this time.  “Just come on.”

Alex sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Michael into his lap.  They keep kissing, rough and eager, pulling back occasionally to catch their breath.  Alex works Michael’s shirt out of his pants, sliding his hands underneath and urging him out of it.  

“I want to get you hard,” Michael pants while Alex thumbs at his nipples.  

“Yeah,” Alex agrees breathlessly.  Michael gets up and strips out of his pants while Alex works on getting his own clothes off.  He won’t need much help getting hard, cock twitching as soon Michael gets down on his knees.

Michael strokes Alex’s thighs, pushing his legs apart and settling between them.  Michael takes him in his mouth, sucking gently, hands still rubbing his thighs, just brushing against his balls.  Alex braces himself with one hand, dropping the other on Michael’s head.  He finds himself playing with Michael’s hair again, combing his fingers through it and wrapping the curls around his fingers.  

When he’s had enough of Michael’s teasing, he gives his hair a sharp tug, and Michael releases him with a drawn out moan.  “You like that,” Alex teases.

“Not hard to figure out,” Michael counters.  Michael takes the lube and a condom from the drawer while Alex settles against the headboard.  He pulls at Michael until he’s straddling his lap, grabbing the lube before Michel can open it.

“Let me,” he tells Michael, coating his fingers with the lube.  Michael starts to move away, but Alex shakes his head.  “Want to ride me?”

“Hell, yeah,” Michael rises up on his knees and leans forward, bracing himself on Alex’s chest.

It’s not the best angle, but Alex doesn’t mind.  He likes that he can still kiss Michael like this.  Alex reaches behind him and circles his hole with his finger.  He waits for Michael to push back against him before he presses inside. Michael opens beautifully, meeting every thrust of his fingers, it doesn’t take long before he adds a second then a third finger.

Michael’s movements become more frantic and his cock drags along Alex’s, causing both of them to shudder.  Michael pulls away from Alex’s mouth, “Come on, you said you’d fuck me.”

Alex nods, pulling his fingers free.  He barely gets the condom on before Michael is sinking onto his cock.  As soon as he settles, Alex holds his hips steady and thrusts up as far as he can.  

“Yeah,” Michael moans, throwing his head back.  “Just like that.”

Michael’s tight and warm around him, and Alex wants it to last forever, but he’s already close.  He tries to slow things down, but Michael pinches his nipple and whines, “Come on, harder,” when Alex relaxes the pace.

Alex gives in, fucking Michael as hard as he can from this angle.  It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open and watch as Michael starts to stroke his own cock.  He tightens around Alex, and Alex holds on as long as he can, but finds his own release as soon as Michael’s come hits his chest.

“Thanks,” Michael says breathlessly as he slides off Alex, both of them wincing slightly at the separation.

“Any time,” Alex laughs, meaning it more than he should.

Michael stands up, “I’m just gonna,” he gestures toward the bathroom.

Alex waits until he leaves and takes care of the condom.  After a few minutes, he makes his own way to the bathroom, passing Michael in the hallway.  “Hey,” he stops Michael with a hand on his arm.  “You can stay if you want.”

Michael doesn’t say anything, just nods and keeps walking, but he’s in the bed when Alex comes back to the bedroom.  He’s on his phone, but he sets it aside when he notices Alex.  “Just letting Max know I won’t be back tonight.”

“It’s not a problem is it?”  Alex isn’t sure why he’s asking.  He knows Michael isn’t involved with Max, but he feels like he should check.

“Nah, he doesn’t care, just likes to know I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth,” Michael says easily.

“Ok,” Alex sits on the bed and taps his prosthetic, “I’m going to take this off now.”  He doesn’t ask, it’s not like leaving it on is an option, but he wants Michael to know what he’s doing.  Michael watches, eyes curious but not judgemental, as Alex removes it and takes care of the liner.

Alex turns out the light and gets into bed.  It’s awkward, and he remembers why he never spent the night with Forrest.  Then Michael sighs dramatically and moves closer, still not quite touching, but closing the distance between them.  Alex rolls onto his side, throwing his arm around Michael’s waist, and slowly relaxes until he falls asleep.

When Alex wakes up he’s alone, he’s not surprised, but he is disappointed.  He waits a few minutes for the feeling to fade before he gets out of bed.  Alex grabs his crutches, shorts and  Tshirt and heads to the bathroom.  He takes a quick shower, letting the hot water wake him the rest of the way up.  Once he’s dressed, he heads to the living room to start on the files again, but detours to the kitchen when he smells coffee.

Michael’s standing at the stove, jeans on but barefoot and shirtless.  “Hey,” Michael turns and smiles when he hears Alex come in.  “I was just about to wake you.  Omelettes will be ready in a minute.  Coffee’s done, but I didn’t know how you liked it.”

“Hot,” Alex jokes as he fixes his coffee.  He sets it on the table, and gets some forks and napkins before sitting down.  Michael already has plates waiting, and he fills them, setting them on the table before getting his own coffee and joining Alex.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Michael points to the omelettes. “I couldn’t fall back to sleep and thought I’d make myself useful.”

“You didn’t have to,” Alex reassures him, “but I appreciate it.  I’m not much of a cook.”

“I noticed you didn’t have much stocked, but I thought maybe you were just settling in?”

“Not sure how long I’ll be here,” Alex admits with a shrug.  “I’m only here for a job, and the faster it’s done the better, but it might be more complicated than I hoped.”

“What do you do?” Michael asks.  “I assume you’re out the service.”

“Yeah, I took a medical discharge after this,” Alex taps his prosthetic.  “I’ve been in cyber security ever since.  I have a local client who’s experiencing some pretty serious breaches so I need to figure out what’s going on,” Alex lies easily, following the cover story Deep Sky gave him.  “What about you?  How long are you staying in Roswell?”

“I’m here for the summer,” Michael tells him.  “I teach science at a high school outside Albuquerque.  Since I was coming for the reunion, I decided to stay awhile.”

“You do that every summer?”  

“No,” Michael laughs.  “This will be the first time I’ve been back for more than a weekend.”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been back at all,” Alex admits.  “But I’m based out of Albuquerque so maybe we would have crossed paths eventually.”

“Maybe.”  Before he can say anything else, Michael’s phone alerts.  His eyes go wide when he reads what’s on the screen.  “I’ve got to go.  Shit, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to leave.”

He stands up and immediately heads to the door.  “Wait,” Alex yells to stop him.  “Michael, you need to get dressed.” 

“Jesus, sorry,” Michael apologizes again.  

Alex follows him to the living room, where he throws on the clothes he’d left folded neatly on the back of the couch.  “Keys,” Alex reminds him.

Michael pats his jean’s pocket and pulls them out.  “Sorry about leaving you with a mess, but I can’t stay.”

“It’s alright, just be safe,” Alex tells him.  Michael leans forward, and for a moment Alex thinks he’s going to kiss him, but then he turns and leaves.  Alex stands in the doorway while he drives away, wondering just what has Michael panicking, and if it’s something he needs to know about.

Michael calls Max as soon as he gets on the road.  “What do you mean Isobel’s missing?” he demands.

“Noah called this morning looking for her. I guess she never came home last night.  I covered the best I could, but I don’t know where she is,” Max sounds as stressed as Michael feels.

“We have to find her.”  Michael didn’t tell Max where he spent the night, and he’d rather not get into it, but he can’t exactly hide that he’s not in town.  “I’ll head out to the caves and check the pods. I’m not that far from there.  You check around town.”

Isobel isn’t in the caves or anywhere Michael can see her.  He’s not sure where to go next when Max calls him.  “I found her,” he tells Michael.

“Where?  Is she ok?” Michael demands.

“She’s fine, just confused.  I found her in a clearing past the junkyard you worked at in high school.”

“What was she doing there?” Michael can’t think of any reason for Isobel to be there.

“No idea.  I’m taking her back to my house if you want to meet us.”

Max meets Michael on the porch, dressed in his Sheriff’s uniform.  “I have to get to work.  Can you stay with her?”  he asks.

“Of course,” Michael agrees.  “How is she?”

“Upset.  She doesn’t remember anything about last night.  She was just sitting in the grass in the same clothes she wore yesterday.  I made her take a shower, and she’s sleeping now.  I just don't want to leave her alone.”

“I got her,” Michael reassures him.  “I’ll call if we need anything.”

“Thanks,” Max hugs him gratefully before leaving.

Michael enters the house quietly.  Isobel is asleep on the couch, she’s frowning even in her sleep, and Michael just wants to fix everything for her.  He settles for adjusting her blanket and settling in the armchair across from the couch.  He plays on his phone for a bit, opens an email from his principal about curriculum updates, but he can’t concentrate - too busy looking at Isobel every few minutes to see if she’s awake.  Michael ends up flipping through the books on Max’s coffee table, desperate for a distraction.

“I didn’t think ‘War and Peace’ was your thing,” Isobel says, startling Michael.

“It’s not,” Michael makes a face and sets the book down.  “You’re awake,” he adds as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Unfortunately,” Isobel sits up, pushing off the blanket and rubbing her face with her hands.  “Michael, what’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, joining her on the couch and wrapping his arm around her.  “But we’ll figure it out, and it will be ok.”

“Will it?” Isobel asks, sadly.  “Because last time this happened, I killed three people.  I can’t let that happen again.”

“It won’t,”  Michael says, horrified at her distress.  “Max and I won’t let that happen again.  I promise.”

“How?  Are you going to follow me around every minute of the day?”

“We will if we have to,” Michael promises.

“You don’t even know where I was last night.  I don’t know where I was.  I could already have killed someone, and how would I even know?”  Isobel asks, her eyes filled with tears.

“Iz, I don’t know, but will figure it out,” Michael hates feeling helpless, but all he can do is hold her while she cries.

Once Isobel finishes crying, Michael makes her a cup of tea.  They sit in silence for a while - Michael unwilling to offer more empty promises and reassurances.  They don’t know what’s happening to her, and they don’t know how to fix it.  Eventually Isobel sets her cup down, and looks at Michael, determination on her face, “Alright, talk to me about something else.  Anything else.”

“I hooked up with Alex Manes,” he tells her without meaning to.

“Ohh, your high school crush, nice,” Isobel high fives him.

“I think it was a mistake,” Michael shakes his head.

“Why?  Is he bad in bed?” Isobel asks, making a face.

“No, that is definitely not the problem.” 

“Then what is?”

“I think I like him,” Michael admits. “And it can’t mean anything, but I think I want it to.”

“Then let it,” Isobel tells him, taking his hand.  “You don’t have to be alone.”

“I can’t do it, Iz.  I don’t know how you stand it - loving someone and lying to them all the time.”  Both Michael and Max thought marrying Noah was a mistake.  But he made Isobel happy, and that’s all they ever wanted for her.  Michael knew he wasn’t meant for that kind of happiness.

“I’m not lying to him.  I’m not!” Isobel insists when Michael makes a face at her.  “He’s never actually asked me if I was an alien.  I know I’m keeping something from him, but it doesn’t change the way I feel about him.”

“You don’t think he’s going to figure it out?”  Michael asks, not convinced she can hide this forever.

“I don’t use my powers like you do,” she reminds him.  “He’ll never know.”

“What about kids?  It would be hard to hide a baby with powers,” Michael reminds her.

“I told Noah I couldn’t have children.  Don’t,” she stops Michael before he can protest.  “We don’t know if I can, if we can have babies with humans, and I don’t want to be an experiment.  We were just starting to talk about adoption when this happened,” Isobel gestures to her head.

“It seems like a big risk to me,” Michael tells her.

“He’s worth it,” Isobel shrugs and smiles. “But enough about me.  When are you going to see Alex again?”

“I don’t know that I am.  I shouldn’t,” Michael admits.

“Yes, you should.  Look, it doesn’t have to be serious.  You’re only here for the summer so have a fling.  Enjoy yourself. Alex is hot, you said he’s good in bed so spend a few months getting laid.”

“Ok, that is officially too much talking about my sex life.  I’m going to make you some lunch,” Michael stands up and puts an end to the conversation.

Isobel leaves a few hours later, insisting she needs to be home before Noah gets back from work.  Michael doesn’t want to let her go, but they can’t keep her prisoner.  Max calls after work and tells Michael he’s going to hang around Isobel’s for a while to make sure she doesn’t wander off.  At loose ends and with Isobel’s voice still in his head, he decides to reach out to Alex.

“Sorry for running out on you this morning.  Buy you a drink to make it up to you?” he texts.

It’s almost ten minutes before Alex replies, “Love to but not up to the drive tonight.  Rain check?”

Michael’s disappointed, but he understands.  Alex’s cabin isn’t that close to town, and it’s a bit of a drive just for a drink with a guy you slept with a few times.  He could still hit up the Wild Pony or Saturn’s Rings, but he’s not in the mood to be surrounded by strangers.  And Michael doesn’t want to spend the night sitting around Max’s house, worrying about Isobel.  So he sends another text, “Have you had dinner yet?”

This time Alex answers right away, “No.”

Michael smiles, “Go to Crashdown order.”

His phone alerts right away with another text.

Alex is happy to hear from Michael, but sighs when he reads the offer for a drink.  After Michael left, he’d spent the day researching, not bothering to put his prosthetic on.  As much as he wants to see Michael, the thought of putting on now and driving into Roswell is not appealing.  He debates with himself for a while, but eventually declines the offer - hoping Michael will read his interest in a rain check as genuine.

Michael’s offer of dinner is even more of a surprise, and one Alex eagerly accepts.  He straightens up while waiting for Michael - making sure everything related to Deep Sky is securely locked up.  He’s just finished wiping down the counter, when Michael knocks.

“Come in,” he yells. He takes the bag from Michael when he enters the kitchen, kissing him softly. “Thanks for this.”

“We should probably eat soon,” Michael tells him.  “I put the milkshakes in a cooler, and the food is still warm, but it won’t stay that way for mich longer.”

“Is that your way of letting me know you won’t put out before dinner?” Alex teases.  “I’m kidding,” Alex holds up his hands and laughs at the expression on Michael’s face.

“You can’t reheat fries, Alex.  It would be a crime to let these get cold,”  Michael says, barely keeping a straight face.

“You have a point,” Alex concedes  “Come on.”

It doesn’t take long to get everything set up so they can eat.  Alex moans after taking his first few bites, “Nobody makes enchiladas like Arturo.”

“I’ve always stuck with the classic,” Michael tells him, indicating his plate with a bacon jalapeno burger and what must be a double order of fries.  

“Here,” Alex cuts off a chunk of enchiladas and slides it onto Michael’s plate.  “I’ll trade you for some fries.”

“Help yourself,” Michael turns the side of his plate with the fires toward Alex.  “You’re right,” he says after trying the enchiladas. “These are amazing.”

“Told you,” Alex says smugly.  

They both go back to eating, not saying much until they are cleaning up.  “Oh, I almost forgot.  Arturo said to tell you hello, and you’d better come by in person before leaving.”

“You told him you were coming here?” Alex asks, surprised because he knows Michael didn’t tell Max where he was staying last night.

“No, he figured it out.  Told me he took the Banana Foster’s Ranch milkshake off the menu years ago because you were the only one who ever ordered it.  Said you were lucky he had the ingredients for other menu items and could still make it for you,” Michael tells him with a smile.

Alex freezes.  “And it’s ok that he knows?”  Alex isn’t sure what it was about him that had people questioning his sexuality long before he got his first piercing or even thought about wearing eyeliner to school, but it’s not like that for everyone.  He wouldn’t want to be responsible for accidentally outing Michael.

“Sure, why wouldn’t it be?” Michael asks, clearly confused.

“If he knows you're with me, he’ll assume,” Alex gestures between them.  “I don’t know if you're out or if it could be a problem with your job.”

“Oh, not it’s fine.”  Michael waits while Alex puts the last dish away then walks into the living room.  He sits down on the couch and motions for Alex to join him.  “It’s sweet that you’re concerned, but Roswell’s not my home anymore.  Max and Isobel already know, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.  As far as my job, I work in a fairly liberal district.  I’ve never made any big announcement, but I don’t hide the fact that I’m bisexual.”

“I’m glad,” Alex says relieved.  Deciding a change of subject is in order, he asks Michael about his career.  “So teaching? As smart you are, I thought you’d end up like Liz Ortecho - multiple doctorates in some fields no one else ever heard of.”

“That was the plan,” Michael admits with a laugh.

“What happened?”

“I was on track with my engineering degree, and I started doing some tutoring on the side.  Fell in love with it and realized I liked teaching science more than I liked being a scientist.”

“And you don’t regret it?”  Alex asks.

Michael shakes his head, “Best decision I ever made.  What about you?  I know your family is all about the military, but I was pretty surprised when you enlisted.”

“So was I,” Alex admits with a laugh.  “That was never the plan.  I was going to be the one to break tradition, to get out.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I never had a real plan.  I wanted to make music, but I was realistic enough to know that was a long shot.  Things got real intense with my dad senior year. I felt like I couldn’t win with him.  As much as I wanted to get away from him, I also wanted to prove him wrong.  I thought that if I joined the Air Force and did better than him, he would have to admit he was wrong about me, that I wasn’t weak or useless.  Stupid,” Alex shakes his head.

“I don’t think it was stupid,” Michael puts his hand on Alex’s knee.  “Families can fuck you up as much as not having one does.  You did the best you could.”

“Maybe,” Alex places his hand over Michaels, interlocking their fingers.

“Did it help?” Michael asks, “with your dad?”

“Fuck, no,” Alex laughs harshly.  “We haven’t spoken since I was hurt, and he reminded me of what a disappointment I am.  I think he would have preferred I was killed so he could have pretended I was a hero.”

Michael studies him for a moment, and Alex regrets being so honest. But then Michael stands up with letting go of Alex’s hand.  “I for one am very glad you are still alive.”

“Yeah?”  Alex asks, not really a question, as he stands up as well.

“Yeah,” Michael repeats.  “And since dinner is over, you should let me show you just how happy.”

Even though it’s Alex’s house, Michael is the one to lead the way to the bedroom.  Alex is more than happy to follow.

Michael stays the night and the next, on the third day he brings over his duffel bag from Max’s.  They don’t talk about it.  The closest they come is a brief discussion of past relationships.

“Nothing to report,” Michael says cheerfully.  “No one’s ever stuck around for more than a night or two.  Until now, I guess.”

Alex isn’t surprised, but he pretends to be.  “Seriously?  I’m not sure if I should be flattered or concerned you’ve become desperate.”  

“Good question.  I’ll let you know when I decide.  What about you Manes?”

Alex stiffens without meaning to.  No one’s called him that since he left the Air Force, and he hoped he would never hear it again.  He shakes his head, “Alex please.”

“Sorry,” Michael doesn’t push for more of an explanation.  “So Alex, have you left a string of broken hearts in your wake?”

“Hardly,” Alex laughs.  “You know what it was like here.  I never said I was gay, but everyone seemed to know.  But it was not like there was anything I could do about it.”  Michael starts to protest, but Alex cuts him off.  “I didn’t know you were an option.  When I joined the Air Force, I just wanted to fit it so I put anything personal aside.  I did date someone at work for a while last year.”

“Was it serious,” Michael asks.

“Not really, but I wanted it to be,” Alex admits.  “I met Forrest at a work function, and he was ex military like me, but he’s very comfortable in his sexuality, in who he is.  I envied that and also found it very attractive.  He hit on me right away, and I was so flattered, it was easy to go along.  It felt good, going on dates with a cute guy who liked me, I’d never had that before.”  Alex smiles at the memories.

“What happened?”

Michael rubs his leg.  It’s a gesture of comfort Alex doesn’t need, but he likes it when Michael touches him so he leans into it.  “I think I liked the idea of Forrest more than I liked Forrest. It fizzled out when we realized we wanted different things.  Forrest likes to push, to challenge people, to force a different world than the one we grew up in.  I admire that about him. But I didn’t want to make a statement.  The more comfortable I got with my sexuality, the more I realized I wanted the things that always seemed out of reach - marriage, a family.”

“I want that too, the whole picket fence.  A dad band,” Michael confesses.

“A dad band?” Alex laughs.  

“It didn’t steal your guitar just to get your attention.  Music has always been the best way to quiet my head,” Michael tells him.

“We should play together sometime.” Alex can picture it, making music with Michael.  He can picture a lot with Michael he’s not ready to admit to.  He leans back and pulls Michael on top of him.  “But not tonight.”

“No,” Michael agrees before he kisses Alex.  “Not tonight.”

“Tell me what you like about teaching,” Alex asks Michael one night after dinner.  Michael had shown up with groceries and made lasagna.  They’d fucked on the couch while it cooked.  It was perfect and natural like everything with Michael is.

Alex has spent his whole life alone, but Michael fits with him in ways he never imagined.  They aren’t together all the time - Michael leaves during the day so Alex can work in peace.  He spends time with Max and Isobel or visits some of the communities outside Roswell, but he comes back every night.  Michael accepts his disability in a way Alex hadn’t expected.  He doesn’t ignore, just treats it like every other part of their lives.  He hands Alex his crutches as easily as he hands him a cup of coffee.  Michael took one look at Alex’s shower chair, shook his head, and reinforced it so it could hold both their weight when they showered together.  Michael is brilliant and funny and kind, and even though he knows it’s destined to end in disaster, Alex is falling in love.

 “How long do you have?” Michael jokes.

“All night,” Alex is completely serious.  He’ll listen to Michael talk all night if that’s what he wants.

“Science is one of those love it or hate subjects you know.  Or that’s how people talk about it so kids are convinced they are good at it or have no hope of passing.  The kids who come in excited are a blast.  They are ready for every experiment and new theory.  But I really love showing the kids who come in afraid or already defeated how accessible science can be.  You just have to find a way in that works for them, and when they start to get it or at least stop fighting it, it’s the best feeling in the world.”

“I wish I had more teachers like you,” Alex says, smiling at Michael’s enthusiasm.  “What do you normally teach?”

“I’ve taught a little bit of everything.  I like chemistry better than biology.”

“You just like blowing things up,” Alex interrupts.

“Who doesn’t like blowing things up?” Michael agrees.  “This past year I had freshman for Earth science which is pretty cool and intro to biology.  Then I had seniors for advanced chemistry and physics.  Weird mix, but it was a fun year.”

Michael tells him more about his classes, and Alex listens, falling even more in love.

Almost a week into staying with Alex, Michael runs out again after getting a text.  They are in bed, trading stories about celebrity crushes when Michael’s phone goes off with a rapid series of texts.

His face drains of color as he reads them.  “Fuck, I have to go,” he says as he scrambles out of bed and throws on some clothes.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Alex offers.

“No, Michael says sharply.  “Sorry,” he apologies, running his hands through his hair.  “It’s just something I need to take care of.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Alex tells him gently.  He wants to push for answers, but he knows this isn’t the time.

“Thanks,” Michael hesitates before leaning in and kissing Alex goodbye.  “Don’t wait up.”

Alex tries to settle and go to sleep, but he can’t stop thinking.  He doesn’t know what is going on with Michael, but he has a  bad feeling it could be related to his assignment.  He knows Michael isn’t responsible for the murders, and he doesn’t believe he would cover them up, but if he’s in contact with the killer, he could be in danger without knowing it.  

Realizing he’s not getting anywhere running through worst case scenarios in his head, Alex gets up and decides to go back over the files.  There has to be something he’s missing, some connection between the victims that can lead him to the killer.  Until the murders began, Deep Sky had no idea there were any aliens in Roswell besides Michael, Max and Isobel, and they have all been eliminated as suspects.

Studying the files doesn’t yield any new information nor does reviewing the records he hacked from the Sheriff’s Department. The killer chose his victims well - no friends or family to push the investigation forward or demand justice.  The official reports contain little information beyond the victim’s name and where and when the body was found.  

None of the sites where the bodies were recovered have nearby security cameras Alex can access so that’s another dead end.  He can’t go around town asking questions without raising suspicion or alerting Jesse to his investigation.  Deep Sky believes Jesse is aware of the murders, but has made no more progress than they have in identifying the killer.  Alex needs to keep it that way.

The sun is just starting to come up when he hears Michael’s truck approaching the cabin.  He quickly logs out of all his files and shuts down the computer.  He’s laying on the couch by the time Michael comes in, a random cooking show playing on the television.

“Hey,” Michael frowns when he spots Alex.  “I told you not to wait up.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Alex shrugs.  “Thought I’d get some pointers,” he gestures to the television.

Michael snorts.  But he sits down when Alex lifts his legs, resting his hand on Alex’s ankle once they settle.  “Sorry to keep you up.”

“Michael, are you alright?”  Alex asks.

Michael doesn’t answer, just sighs and tilts his head back, resting it on the couch.  Alex shifts until he’s sitting up, giving himself a better view of Michael.  “Please,” he prompts.  He wants to help Michael if he can, but he also needs to know there is something going on that he should get involved in.

“Our senior year, Isobel, Isobel Evans,” he clarifies, “starting having migraines bad enough she would black out.  Freaked the hell out of Max, but they stopped just before graduation.  Now they’ve started up again and she’s gone missing a few times.”

“That must be scary,”  Alex places his hand over Michael’s.  There’s something in the timing that he can’t quite place, but he knows is important, but he puts that aside for the moment.  It’s more important to be there for Michael.

“The last few times, Max has found her out in a field.  She doesn’t remember leaving her house or how she got there.  I’m afraid she’s going to hurt herself,” Michael admits.

“I’m sorry.  What do her doctors say?”  Alex hates asking a question he knows the answer to, but it would be more suspicious if he didn’t ask.

“They, umm,” Michael stumbles over his response.  “They haven’t been able to figure out what’s causing them.”

“Is that why you decided to stay for the summer?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot for Max to handle on his own.”

“What about Isobel’s husband?”  Alex doesn’t know much about him, but he knows Isobel is married.

Michael shakes his head.  “Isobel doesn’t want him to know.  We’ve been covering for her, but I keep telling her, he’s going to find out.”

That probably means Isobel’s husband doesn’t know she’s an alien.  If he knew about the migraines, he might insist she see a doctor, something Alex is sure she wants to avoid.  “Well, she’s lucky to have you,” he says instead of asking more questions.

“Not many people know this, but Max and Isobel are my family.”  Michael leans into Alex, pressing closer when Alex wraps his arm around him.  “We were found together before they were adopted.  I’d do anything for them.”

Alex kisses the top of his head and takes a deep breath.  There isn’t much he wouldn’t do for Michael, but this isn’t the time to tell him that.  “Let’s go back to bed,” he says instead.  “You’ve had a long night.  Let me take care of you.”

Michael calls Alex the next day, a surprise because while they text occasionally, they never call each other.  Alex suppresses his instinct to ask Michael if anything is wrong, “Hey, what’s going on?” he asks instead.

“Isobel wants us to come to dinner tonight,” Michael tells him.

“Do you want to go?”  Alex is happy to defer to Michael’s preference. 

Michael hesitates.  “I’d like you to get to know Isobel, and Max,” he finally says.

“I’d like that too,” Alex says, a little surprised at how much he means it.  “Just so you know, this meeting the family thing is a one way street.  I have no intention of talking to mine again.”

“Your father always seemed pretty intense so I’m happy to avoid that situation,” Michael laughs.

“You have no idea,” Alex tells him.  He plans to keep it that way.

“I’ll be home, back,” Michael corrects himself, “in about an hour.  We can leave around six.”

Alex smiles at Michael’s slip, but doesn’t call him out on it.  He’s starting to think of this as Michael’s home too, but he needs to finish his investigation and let Michael in on what he knows before they can really move forward.  “See you then.”

“So what do I need to know?” Alex asks on the way over.

“Max is super over protective, more of Isobel than me, but he might be a little standoffish.  Isobel loves to tease me. She’ll probably make at least one bad joke about my sex life.”

“So she’s the one to get the embarrassing stories from,” Alex laughs.

“Absolutely not,” Michael objects.  “I know what I told you yesterday, but we really don’t talk about being family in front of other people.  We just say we are friends.”

“Ok,” Alex takes the hand Michael isn’t using to steer and squeezes it.  That’s something he’ll want to know more about another time.  “What about Isobel’s husband?  What’s he like?”

“Noah?” Michael shrugs.  “He’s nice. He’s a lawyer.  He moved to Roswell after I left so I don’t know him real well.  But he adores Isobel and that’s all that matters.”

Isobel’s house is exactly what Alex expected from an event planner married to a lawyer - showy and way too big for two people.  But she greets Alex warmly and leads them to the back patio for dinner which is a much more relaxed environment than the formal dining room they passed on the way out.

Noah Bracken’s manning the grill but he steps aside to introduce himself to Alex then hugs Michael which is more familiar than Alex would have anticipated based on how Michael talked about him.  

“Where’s Max?”  Michael asks when Isobel is getting their drinks.

“Oh, he had to cancel.”  Isobel and Noah share a look before she continues.  “They found a body in the Wild Pony’s parking lot.”

“Jesus,” Michael swears under his breath.  “Was it anyone you know?”

“No, Max said it was a vagrant.  Someone he’s picked up for loitering a few times. Probably an overdose,” Isobel adds.

Alex tries to keep his face neutral, to seem curious,but not too interested.  “Was anyone else hurt?”

This time it’s Noah who answers.  “Thankfully, no.  It looks like the body might have been dumped there overnight when no one was around.  I’m just hoping it doesn’t scare anyone off from Ranchero night.  The next one is later this week.”

“Maria’s still doing those?”  Alex asks.  He hasn’t thought about Ranchero night in years, but he remembers how proud Mimi had been when she was able to offer free meals and a night of laughter and music to anyone who needed it.

“Yes, she’s even expanded in recent years - adding medical services and legal advice.  She gets a great turnout,” Noah tells him.

“Don’t let my husband be too modest,” Isobel turns and beams at Noah.  “He started offering the legal advice and wrote up the contract for the medical services.”

“Isobel exaggerates.  My whole firm is involved in helping the community.  But enough about me.  Isobel, why don’t you tell them about the hospital fundraiser you’re planning.”

Alex can’t help but notice how quickly Noah shies away from attention. He does it all through dinner, deftly redirecting the conversation any time it starts to focus on him.  Like Michael said, he’s nice, pleasant even, but in the most generic and forgettable way.  

“So Alex,” Isobel turns to him once dinner is over and they are enjoying a glass of wine, “what are your intentions toward Michael?”

“Isobel, please,”  Michael groans.

“No intentions,” Alex tells her with a smile.  “I’m just enjoying getting to know him.”

“Well, Michael’s always been a bit of a playboy, but he’s getting too old to play the field.”

“Iz, stop, seriously,” Michael pleads.

“What?”  Isobel bats her eyelashes innocently. “I’m not scaring you off, am I, Alex?”

“Not at all,” Alex shakes his head and laughs.  “Please continue.”

“I hate you,” Michael mutters, kicking Alex under the table.

“Michael’s like a burnt marshmallow.  I’m serious!” Isobel protests when Alex bursts out laughing and Michael hides his face in his hands.  “He’s all rough on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside.”

“Ok enough wine for you,” Noah moves to take her glass away, but she holds it tightly.

“He’s so good with kids.  You should see him with his students,” Isobel tells Alex earnestly.  “They all adore him, even the grumpy, too cool to smile ones.  Michael’s meant to have a family.”

“We’re going to go now,”  Michael stands up and tugs on Alex’s hand until he gets up as well.  “Before you really do scare Alex away.  Noah, thanks for dinner, steaks were delicious.”

“Nice meeting you,” Alex shakes Noah’s hand as Michael tries to pull him away.  “Isobel, call me anytime you want to talk about Michael.”

“Not happening,” Michael shakes his head.

“Love you, too,” Isobel shouts as they are leaving.

“Dinner was nice,” Alex says when they are on the way back.

Michael snorts, “Easy for you to say.  I am never letting you and Isobel talk again.”

“Just try and stop us,” Alex kisses Michael on the cheek.  “It’s nice that she cares so much.”  Isobel talking about Michael having a family only confirmed what Alex already knew.  Michael wanted a future with someone - a dad band, he remembers Michael telling him.  More and more, Alex found himself hoping he could be that someone.

Michael grumbles, but doesn’t really say anything.  Alex is content with the silence.  It gives him time to think.  While it’s not confirmed, he’s sure the body they found will turn out to be another alien murder, making his investigation both more complicated and more urgent.  He needs to look into Ranchero night since there is a high likelihood the victims would have attended.

He is still mulling it over when they get back to the cabin, but there is nothing he can do until morning.  Once they’ve locked up for the night, Alex pulls Michael in for a kiss that quickly turns heated.

“I thought you didn’t have any intentions toward me,” Michael teases when Alex tugs at Michael’s belt.

“None that I wanted to share with your sister,” Alex retorts, turning and walking back to the bedroom, confident Michael will follow.

It doesn’t take long for Alex to get his answers.  He calls Maria and confirms all the victims had attended Ranchero night at least once.  The murders don’t line up with Ranchero night - that would have been a pattern too obvious to miss.  But Alex can only assume they are using Ranchero night as a hunting ground.  Of course there is no surveillance footage, but Maria is able to send him a list of volunteers.

“Fuck,” Alex swears when he reads through the text.  His worst suspicions are confirmed.  Alex opens another tab on his laptop and starts researching.

When Michael gets back to the cabin that evening, Alex is pacing the floor.

“We need to talk,” he says as soon as he sees Michael.

Michael’s stomach drops.  He thought things were going good with Alex, doesn’t know what he did to screw that up.  But it doesn’t really matter in the end.  Maybe it’s better this way before he ends up like Isobel, trying to manage a relationship built in lies.  “It’s alright,” he tells Alex, even though it’s the farthest thing from alright.  “I’m just going to go.”

“No,” Alex looks confused, then understanding dawns.  “That’s not what I meant.  I just need to talk to you.”

“About what?”  Michael moves away from the door, into the cabin.

“Sit, please,” Alex guides him to the couch.  He doesn’t speak again until Michael is sitting, but he doesn’t join him, just resumes his pacing.  “I’m going to ask you something and it’s very important that you tell me the truth even though you won’t want to.”

“Alex, I wasn’t lying when I told you I was clean,” Michael tries to joke, to break the tension, but it falls flat.

Alex starts to say something, but then snaps his mouth shut and does a circuit of the room.  He comes back to stand in front of Michael, but he still doesn’t say anything.

“What’s going on?”  Michael asks.  He has no idea what could have Alex so uncertain.  “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

“God, I don’t even know how to ask this,” Alex runs his hand through his hair.  “Please don’t lie to me.  Do you know that Noah is an alien?”

“Are you insane?”  All Michael can do is laugh.  Noah is the most human person he knows.  “You’re seriously asking me if Noah, Isobel’s husband, is an alien.  I think being in Roswell is messing with your head.”

“It’s not a joke.  I need you to tell me if you knew.”

“Noah’s not an alien,” Michael’s starting to get frustrated.  Alex is way off base, but he can’t let him continue on this path because it might lead him to the truth about Michael.  “I would,” Michael starts, then cuts himself off.  He can’t explain to Alex why he can be certain.  “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I’m not interested.”

He starts to get up, but Alex’s next words pin him in place.  “You would know, that’s what you were going to say.  You would know because you’re an alien.  You, Max and Isobel.”

“No.”  It’s all Michael can say.  He’s glad he didn’t get up because he’s not sure he could stand right now.  He’s lightheaded and his hands are shaking.  “No.  You’re wrong.  You can’t say that.”

“Michael.”

Alex crouches down in front of him.  Michael wants to tell him to get up, remind that staying in that position will hurt with his prosthetic.  But he can’t think about Alex now.  Not when the whole fabric of his life is being ripped apart.

“Michael,” Alex says again, waiting until Michael focuses back on him before speaking.  “I know about the three of you.  I’ve known for years.  I know it’s a shock, but you’re safe with me.”

“You’re wrong.  You can’t just say things like that.  I don’t know what’s going on with you, Alex but you need to stop.”  Michael doesn’t know what to do.  He wants to run, to get to Max and Isobel and warn them.  But he can’t leave until he convinces Alex that he is wrong.  He just doesn’t know how to do that.

“This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.  I wanted to ease into it, or hopefully wait until you were ready to tell me. But we’re out of time.  I asked you not to lie to me.  I’m being honest with you.  I know you and Max and Isobel are aliens.  I know you were found in the desert together exactly fifty years after the crash in Roswell.  I’ve seen the pods you spent those fifty years inside.  I know, Michael.  You need to understand that.”

The bottom drops out of Michael’s world.  No one can know, that was the truth he, Max, and Isobel lived by. Their secret had to be protected at all cost - from everyone, Max and Isobel’s parents, Isobel’s husband.  But Alex knows, Michael can’t deny it.  “How,” Michael almost sobs.

Alex stands, wincing slightly.  “Can I sit?” he asks, gesturing to the couch.  When Michael nods, he sit down, taking Michael’s hands in his.  “I know this is a lot to take in.  The short version is I don’t work in cyber security. I work for an organization called Deep Sky.  They’ve been studying aliens for decades, years before the 1947 crash.  I study alien artifacts - items that have been found or turned over to Deep Sky - trying to figure what they do, looking for patterns.  A few months ago I was given a new assignment.”

Michael sucks in a sharp breath.  “Is that what this is?” He pulls his hands away and points between the two of them.  “Am I your assignment?”

“No,” Alex looks horrified at that thought.  “Seeing you at the reunion, getting to know you, falling in love with you, none of that was planned.  I haven’t told anyone at Deep Sky about our relationship.  I wanted to keep you away from all this, but now I have no choice.”

“What are you doing here, Alex,” Michael asks, not sure he really wants the answer.

“Over the last few years there have been a series of murders in Roswell.  The victims have been prostitutes, drug addicts and homeless people so none of them have been investigated thoroughly.  Their bodies also had a glowing handprint on them.”

Michael reels back.  What if this is why Isobel’s blackouts started?  She asked Michael if she killed anyone, and he had been so sure the answer was no, but now?  “Isobel,” he says without meaning to, immediately wishing he could take it back.

“No, it’s not Isobel,” Alex reassures him.  “By the time I was given the investigation, you, Max and Isobel had already been cleared.  That meant there was another alien in Roswell Deep Sky doesn’t know about.  I was sent here to find out who it is so we can stop them.”

“You think Noah is the killer?  Alex, I still think that’s crazy.”

“Noah volunteers at the Wild Pony’s Ranchero Night. That’s where he finds his victims.  There is no record of Noah Bracken anywhere before he showed up in Roswell.  He doesn’t exist.  He works at a law firm, but has never tried a case or filed a brief.  His whole life is a facade.  The only reason he can maintain it is by using his powers to keep people from asking questions or even planting false memories.  I am not sure of exactly what he can do or how he does it, but it’s the only theory that makes sense,” Alex lays out his case.

“Maybe he’s in witness protection,” Michael tries to come up with a logical explanation for Alex’s discoveries.  “He couldn’t use powers on Isobel.  She would know.”

“He doesn’t have to.  I think Noah targeted Isobel, married  her, because he knows she’s an alien.  She won’t ask too many questions because she can’t answer them herself.  He knew if she was worried about protecting her own secret, she wouldn’t notice what he was keeping from her.”

It makes a twisted kind of sense.  Michael always wondered how Isobel kept her secret, wondered why Noah never asked more questions, especially recently when Isobel’s blackouts caused her to disappear.  But if Alex is telling the truth - about Noah being an alien and the rest of it, Isobel has been living with a killer.  “You’re sure?”  Michael has to ask.

“I am,” Alex nods.  “You really didn’t know?”

“No fucking clue,” Michael scrubs his face with his hands.  He doesn’t even know where to start.  “So you know about aliens.  You work for an organization that knows about aliens.  You figured out my sister’s husband is an alien before any of us did.  And he’s a serial killer.”

“I know it’s a lot,” Alex starts.

“And you’re falling in love with me,” Michael adds because he hasn’t forgotten that detail.  It might not be as big of revelation in the grand scheme of things, but it matters.

“And I love you,” Alex repeats solemnly. 

Michael doesn’t know what he feels.  Part of him wants to run, to go to Max’s and pretend this conversation never happened.  He’s been avoiding thinking about his feelings for Alex for the same reason he’s never been in a relationship before - fear of being discovered.  But Alex already knows what he is, and he’s looking at Michael the same way he did when they woke up this morning, the same way he did yesterday and the day before.  “I,” Michael starts, unable to finish.

“Don’t,” Alex places his hand on Michael’s knee.  “You need time to process all of this.  Then you can decide how you feel.  Just don’t shut me out.”

Michael shakes his head.  “Do you need anything from me?”

“If you didn’t know about Noah,” Alex begins, pausing to look at Michael for confirmation.

“I didn’t.”

“Then no.  He’ll be picked up discreetly in a few days, but until then there’s nothing to do.  As long as he believes his identity is still a secret no one is in danger,” Alex explains.

It seems too easy.  Just wait it out, and Noah will be gone.  How are they going to explain it to Isobel?  Michael pinches the bridge of his nose.  It’s too much to think about right now.  “Can we just set it aside for tonight?  I can’t deal with all this right now.”

“Of course,” Alex agrees easily, squeezing Michael’s hand.  “You should eat.  Come on, I’ll heat something up for dinner.”

Dinner, that’s why Michael came home - to have dinner with Alex and maybe fuck before bed.  Not to have his whole world turned upside down.  They both pick at their food, and Michael goes back to the living room while Alex cleans up.  He doesn’t turn on the television or even look at his phone, just sits there.  Alex is gentle with him the rest of the evening, guiding him through their nighttime routine.  It would piss Michael off if there wasn’t some part of him that needed it, needed to be led through the motions of life while he tried to figure out what to do.

Michael waits until they are in bed - a respectable distance apart instead of pressed together like normal - to broach the subject again.  “What did you believe them?

“What”  Alex asks, not expecting the question.

“Someone comes to recruit you out of the Air Force and tells you their company focus is aliens, why do you take the job?  Why didn’t you laugh in their face and go get some easy government job?  Why did you believe them?” Michael asks again because that’s another thing he can’t understand.  How did Alex get involved in this in the first place.

“Because I already knew.  Not about the three of you, but about aliens in general,” Alex tells him.

“How?”

“I told you my father was abusive, but he was also secretive and paranoid.  Right before my mother left, I heard them fighting.  She was yelling at him about spending all their money to fund his obsession.  I didn’t know what she meant, and when I got older I thought maybe he had a mistress.  But then I found my grandfather’s journal.  He wrote about being at the 1947 crash and how he found his purpose in protecting  humans from the invaders.  He helped to capture any survivors and imprison them.  My father always talked about the Manes legacy and protecting his father’s vision.  I think that’s what he meant.”

“We weren’t the only survivors?”  Michael always hoped there were more aliens like them, but he could never be sure.

“No, but I don’t know if anyone else is left.  It was over seventy years ago. But once this investigation is over, I should have the clearance to access the classified files on my family and find out what my father is up to so I can stop him.”

And it hits Michael that of all the people to fall in love with, he picked the guy who’s father and grandfather might have killed whatever family he had.  It’s so absurd he has to laugh.  “Your grandfather must be rolling over in his grave.”

“Probably.” Alex laughs with him.

Michael lets it go at that.  He turns off the light and tries to sleep.  When Alex reaches out for him, he doesn’t tune away.

When Michael wakes up, Alex is watching him.

“How are you doing?”  Alex asks him.

“Better,” Michael spent most of the night thinking.  His first priority has to be making sure Isobel is safe.  Once Noah is no longer a threat, he’ll have to tell Max and Isobel the truth about Alex.  “I don’t know how to act around you,” he admits.

“Nothing has to change,” Alex tells him with a frown.  “But you don’t have to lie about anything.  You can use your powers if you want to or talk to me about what it was like when you figured out you were an alien.  But that’s not why I am with you so if you don’t want to talk about it again, we don’t have to.”

“It’s that easy, huh.”

“It can be.  Maybe not easy,” Alex admits.  “I know it will take time for you to trust me, to believe your secret is safe with me, but we can get there.”

“It's not just my secret.”  It’s one thing to trust Alex with his own safety, but Max and Isobel should have a choice too.

“I know, and once this is over, we can talk to them together.  This can be a good thing, not being alone.”

“Maybe,” Michael shrugs.  He can’t think that far ahead.  “I should get up.”

“I think you should stay here today.”

“Can’t,” Michael sits up and stretches.  “Max is off today, and I’m supposed to help him with some stuff at the house.  He’ll be suspicious if I cancel.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Why,” Michael frowns at Alex.  “I thought you said it was safe.”

“And it is,” Alex insists, “as long as Noah doesn’t suspect anything.  Can you really spend the whole day with Max and not tell him?  And what if you run into Noah?  Could you act normally around him?  He might know with you saying anything, we don’t know how powerful he is.”

Michael’s frown deepens.  Alex isn't wrong to be concerned.  There are a lot of things that could go wrong, but he can’t spend the day cooped up in the cabin.  “I won’t run into Noah.  And Max and I don’t really talk that much about our feelings.  It’s just for a day.  I’ll be fine.”

“Michael,” Alex puts a hand on Michael’s shoulder.  “It’s not a chance you should take.  My father knows about the murders, but not who did it. If he somehow gets tipped off and gets to Noah first, he could find out about all of you.”

“I haven’t seen your father once since I’ve been in Roswell.”  My shrugs off Alex’s hand. “Are you forcing me to stay here?”

“Of course not,” Alex doesn’t hesitate.

“Then I’m going.  I’ll be careful, I promise.” He stands up before Alex can say anything else.  “I’ll see you later.”  Michael kisses Alex on the check and hurries to the bathroom.

Michael wasn’t lying about spending the day with Max, but he didn’t tell Alex that he was meeting Isobel for breakfast first.  He won’t tell her the truth, but he can’t do nothing.  He has to protect her.

“You should have brought Alex,” Isobel pretends to pout when Michael sits down alone.  “I have so many great stories to tell him.”

“I think you should stay with Max for a few days,” Michael says instead of responding to her.

“Why would I do that?”  Isobel makes a face at him.

“I think he’s lonely.  I was supposed to spend the summer with him and I’m spending most of my time with Alex.”  It’s not a great excuse, but Michael hopes she’ll buy it.

“Please, Max has lived alone for years.  He doesn’t care that you’re shacking up with your hot boyfriend,” Isobel rolls her eyes.  “I’m not leaving my lovely house when he doesn’t even have decent internet out there.”

“Ok, look, I”m not supposed to know about this, but Alex is investigating Noah’s law firm.  Insider trading or something like that,” Michael figures it’s closer to the truth.

“I knew the managing partners were shifty,” Isobel exclaims.  “But what does that have to do with me staying with Max.  Noah’s not involved in any of that.”

Michael hates how confident she sounds in Noah’s innocence.  The truth about him is going to devastate her.  “I know, but something’s going down in the next few days, and I think it would be better if you weren’t caught up in all of it.”

Isobel’s gaze softens.  “I know you worried about me, and it’s sweet.  But I’m not that fragile.”

“Iz, please,” Michael pleads.

“I’ll think about it,” Isobel compromises.

Michael knows he can’t push harder without making her suspicious so that has to be enough.  “And you can’t tell Noah. If he finds out ahead of time, it will look like he was in on it.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Isobel replies, a hint of bitterness twisting her expression.  “If there is one thing I am good at, it’s keeping secrets from my husband.”

Their food comes before Michael can think of a response.  He lets Isobel change the subject as they start to eat.  

His day with Max goes as expected.  He teases Michael a little about Alex based on Isobel’s recounting of their dinner, but he doesn’t press for details.  The long list of chores Max has been putting off keeps them busy enough that Michael can avoid blurting out that Alex knows their biggest secret.  Still he’s relieved when they wrap up for the day.  Michael showers at Max’s and changes into the last set of clothes he has left there.

Michael decides he’s going to tell Alex if they don’t deal with Noah tomorrow, he’s telling Isobel and Max the truth.  He can’t take another day of lying.  When he approaches the cabin, he sees Isobel’s car in the driveway.  He can’t think of any reason Isobel would have gone to see Alex without telling him unless she wanted to confront him about Noah.

“Shit,” Michael mutters as he gets out of the truck.  He promised Alex he wouldn’t say anything, and while he technically kept that promise, he knows Alex will be pissed. Michael just hopes Isobel didn’t tip Noah off.

He’s mentally practicing his explanation and apology when he sees the driver’s door of Isobel’s car is open and the engine is still running.  Michael’s concern quickly changes to fear and sprints up the porch stairs.

“Alex! Isobel!” he yells as he throws open the door.

No one responds, but he sees Alex backed up against the wall, hands out in front of him.  

Isobel advances on him, “You should have stayed out of this.  What I do doesn’t concern you or your kind.”

“Isobel!” Michael shouts again.  Isobel ignores him, but Alex catches his eye and shakes his head.  Then he nods toward the door.

Michael shakes his head back at Alex.  He doesn’t know what’s happening, but there is no way he’s leaving.  Even if he called for help, it would take too long for anyone to respond.  He’d never hurt Isobel, but he has to find a way to protect Alex.

“You aren’t the Manes I imagined killing,” Isobel taunts Alex.  “But you won’t be the last, so I might as well start with you.”

Michael moves closer and sees Isobel’s expression is completely blank.  The voice is hers, but it doesn’t sound right either - flat and mechanical.  He remembers what Isobel told them after they found her with Rosa’s body.  She couldn’t remember anything, said it was like she lost contact with her body and when she came back, Rosa’s body was in front of her.

Something clicks in Michael’s brain, and this time he yells, “Noah!”

Isobel turns toward him and he shudders under her emotionless gaze.

“You were always too smart for your own good.  Imagine how powerful you would be if you actually put that mind of yours to use.  I almost regret having to kill you as well.”

Isobel takes a step toward him, but before she can come any closer, Alex pulls a syringe out of his pocket and jams it into her shoulder.  Isobel’s eyes widen, and Michael sees them fill with confusion before she collapses.

“Isobel!” Michael lunges forward and manages to break her fall, easing her onto the ground.  He pulls her into his lap, relieved to see she is breathing.

He turns his attention to Alex. “Are you alright?” Michael asks.  “What did you do to her?” Alex sits heavily on the end of the couch and Michael looks between him and Isobel not sure where to focus his attention.

“I’m fine,” Alex waves Michael off when he starts to get up.  “The shot temporarily suppresses her powers, ending Noah’s control over her.  It will wear off in a few hours.  I’ve got to make some calls.  We need to get Noah into custody now.  Call Max, warn him.  Have him come out here, Isobel will need him.”  

The next few hours pass in a blur.  Alex spends most of them on the phone in the bedroom.  He steps out long enough to tell them when Noah is taken into custody, but quickly disappears again.  Michael has his hands full with Max who arrives panicked, and once he knows Isobel will be alright, he switches to interrogation mode - demanding answers Michael doesn’t have.

“I don’t know, Max,” Michael shouts, frustrated, after the fifth time Max asks him exactly how Alex found out about aliens.  “He just told me last night, and I was more concerned with Noah being a serial killer. It has to do with his family and the people he works with.  The details can wait until this shit with Noah is taken care of.”

Max eventually concedes that he’ll have to be satisfied with Michael’s bare bones explanation until Isobel has time to process what happened with Noah.  Isobel remembers nothing after she stopped at home to tell Noah she was staying with Max for the weekend.  Telling her the truth about what he saw is one of the hardest things Michael has ever done.  Isobel is understandably horrified, and Michael brings Alex out long enough to reassure Isobel that he isn’t hurt and that he doesn’t blame her for what happened.

“I love you,” Michael hugs Isobel tightly when she and Max are ready to leave.

“I’m so sorry,” Isobel begins.

“No, no,” Michael stops her, wiping the tears from her cheeks.  “You have nothing to be sorry for.  I just wish we had figured it out sooner before Noah hurt you.  We’re going to take care of you, ok.”

Isobel nods, returning Michael’s embrace before stepping back.

Max hugs Michael as well.  “I’m sorry about earlier. I was scared and frustrated that Noah could do this right under my nose, but I should have listened to you instead of yelling.”

“I get it,” Michael tells him. “We’ll talk more later.”  Michael looks back over at Isobel. “You’re good right?  I’ll be by in the morning.”

“Yeah, I got her,” Max says quietly.  “I’ll make sure she gets some sleep, and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once they leave, Michael collapses onto the couch, the stress of the last few days catching up to him.

It’s after midnight before Alex wraps up his last phone call.  He’ll have several reports to file in the morning as well as beginning the logistical aspects of his transfer, but for now all he wants to do is sleep.  When he walks out into the living room, he’s surprised to find Michael asleep on the couch.

Michael’s curled up in the corner of the couch, head at an awkward angle that makes Alex wince.  He sits down next to him and gently shakes his shoulder.

“Hey,” he says when Michael opens his eyes.  “I thought you left with Max and Isobel.”

Michael shakes his head before sitting up and stretching.  “No,” he mumbles around a yawn.  “They need some time alone.  I’m going to see them in the morning before they leave.”

“So Isobel accepted the offer?” Alex confirms.  Deep Sky had offered treatment to Isobel - specialized doctors and therapists who could help determine exactly what Noah did to her and make sure there was no lasting damage as well as helping her deal with the emotional trauma.

“Yeah, Max is going to take a leave of absence, stay at my place so he can be nearby.”

“That’s good.”  When Michael yawns again, Alex stands up and holds out his hand.  “It’s been a long day.  Let’s go to bed.”

He convinces Michael to take a shower while goes through his own night time routine.  Even though it’s late, after the day he’s had, Alex knows he can’t afford to skip his stretches.  He still finishes before Michael, waiting in the bed when Michael comes back from the bathroom.  Alex expects he’ll want to go right to sleep, but Michael turns on the bedside lamp before turning off the main lights.

When he gets in the bed, Michael sits up facing Alex.  “I love you, you know,” he tells him, taking Alex’s hand.  “I thought I did before, but tonight, realizing how close I came to losing you, I knew.”

“I love you, too,” Alex minds him, his heart aching.  As happy as he is to know Michael returns his feelings, he hates the circumstances surrounding their relationship.  “I’m sorry it had to happen like this.  You deserve better than all the secrets and”

“Murders,” Michael finishes for him.

“You definitely deserve better than the murders,” Alex laughs.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not scared,” Michael admits.  “We always thought we were alone - me, Max, and Isobel - and the most important thing we could do was keep our secret.  And now everything’s changed.  It’s not just you, other people know about us, have known about us.  And we don’t know if Noah is the only other alien or if there are more.  But I’d rather figure it all out with you than alone.”  

“I’d like that,” Alex says, a little choked up at how much it means to him to have Michael trust him like this.

“So what’s next?” Michael asks.

“Now that Noah is in custody, I’ve been assigned to Roswell.  Once I’m briefed on what my father’s up to, I’m going to figure out how to bring him down,” Alex tells him.

“Roswell, huh,”  Michael shakes his head.

Alex hesitates just a moment before sharing this next part, “Roswell is looking for a new high school science teacher.”

“Seriously,” Michael side eyes him.

Alex shrugs, refusing to apologize for arranging it.  “This town is full of secrets, Michael.  When I find out what they are, I think the answers will belong to you - you, Max, and Isobel.  I don’t know how long it will take for me to find them, but I think you want to be part of it when I do.”

“You’re right,” Michael leans into Alex’s chest, yawning once again.

“Alright, time to sleep.”  Alex reaches over to turn off the light, but stops. “You want to go house hunting tomorrow?”

“House hunting?”  Michael asks.

“This place,” Alex gestures to encompass the cabin, “was always meant to be temporary.  It’s time to find something more permanent.”

Alex’s heart settles when Michael smiles and kisses him softly, “Sounds good to me.”

[lostcol]

"You feeling good?"

Baby's first Roswell New Mexico fic! 👽🤠

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes

Additional Tags: Smut, alex has some feelings, Alex is in love, Dom/sub Undertones, Sub Michael Guerin, Dom Alex Manes, but that's not really part of it, it's just their dynamic here, more like, subby michael, dommy alex, Cock Warming, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, POV Alex Manes

Summary:

Michael shows up on Alex's doorstep horny and sad, and Alex makes him feel better.

[urnnnnn227]

hi hi! new to the tumblr community— thought i’d share some of my R&M art :)

[dirty-bear-rick-sanchez]

Memories

A short, sad bit of Birdrick. I actually wrote this a while back for the 'jealousy' prompt for Birdrick week before forgetting about it. 😅

Summary: While waiting at the Plimplom Tavern after turning himself in, Rick remembers a time from his and Birdperson's past. ~1k words

Warnings for masturbation, porn, and canon typical alcoholism. It's not smut, but it is explicit.

Rick blinks hazy, weary eyes, trying to straighten his vision. He manages, for the briefest of moments, to simplify it to double rather than quadruple before the images spill into each other again. The photo in his hand should be burnt into his parietal lobe with all the time he’s been staring at it, but although his eyes may be on the picture, his mind isn’t. His mind, just as it has been since that damned egg-vite arrived, is replaying old memories, dredging up feelings that have been stagnating for the better part of four decades. Plenty of it is well-trodden territory, thoughts that surface any time he lets his mind idle too long or allows his sobriety to outstay its welcome. Much of them can be dampened or even banished entirely with sufficiently high blood alcohol content. However, the more his mind strays from the beaten path, the more it digs up abandoned graves, ones that have long been overgrown, as well as those that are so new the earth is still fresh above.

The oldest memory he’s contending with is of a fling from back in the early days of the band, when most of their time had been spent getting high, partying, and having sex with strangers. Nothing out of the ordinary for a group of friends. All of them had brought hook-ups back to the glorified squat they called home every now and then, some more frequently than others. Rick remembers one night in particular where he’d decided - completely of his own accord and for no other reason - that he wasn’t going to bring anyone home that night. As he’d been leaving, he’d stumbled upon a couple who, judging by their position against the wall and the still burning cigarette discarded at their feet, had decided to cut out the middle man in their spit sharing. Normally, he wouldn’t have given them more than a passing glance, but one member of the couple had caught his eye. 

Birdperson.

It hadn’t been a surprise. After all, he’d been the one most desperate to get out that particular night. 

For a few weeks prior, all Rick had noticed was that he’d been slightly more energetic than usual and that he’d been spending a lot of time in the shower, despite the fact that the water had failed to be so much as lukewarm for even a single day since they’d moved in. When Squanchy brought the subject up at breakfast one day, Birdperson had explained his species’ reproductive cycle in very matter-of-fact terms, and Rick hadn’t thought about it too much more after that. 

At least, not until he’d been lying awake that night, unable to sleep, and had wandered into the living room to find Birdperson sitting alert on the couch, intently watching porn. Birdperson’s gaze had flickered to him and Rick had taken several seconds to choke out an answer to the unspoken question.

“C-couldn’t sleep.”

He’d joined Birdperson on the couch and they’d watched together, just like the three of them frequently did. Only this time, it wasn’t the three of them. Rick hadn’t thought that would make a difference, but it had. If he didn’t pay attention to the video, the atmosphere was chokingly thick and he felt acutely aware of every miniscule movement and positioning of his body. He could almost feel the gravity between him and Birdperson, and he struggled desperately against its effects while also trying not to make it obvious what he was doing. He tried to focus on the porn instead, but the images of naked birdpeople, horny and begging for release, did nothing to ease the tension. When Squanchy was there, they were just some guys watching porn, occasionally making a smartass comment or giving an appreciative cheer. Without him, the activity felt silent and intimate.

Eventually, the video had ended and Rick had retreated back to his room while Birdperson headed to the bathroom for, presumably, yet another cold shower. Rick felt further from sleep than ever, his body jittery and wired and horny. He reached a hand down to take care of business, his thoughts full of mating season and the desperate, innate need he’d seen onscreen. Somewhere at the back of his mind - although not far back enough for Rick’s tastes - he thought about the moment he’d shared with Birdperson, about the fact that they were both undoubtedly filling the same need right now, the other man naked and slippery in the shower, thrusting into his own hand in a way that would never be enough to satisfy the burning need he felt.

He’d spent the next hour trying to convince himself that the powerful, intense orgasm that had rocked his body had nothing to do with the subject of his thoughts.

As time had progressed, Birdperson’s instincts had only grown stronger, and he’d often disturb them at odd hours with heavy footsteps and strange, almost songlike noises. He would grow increasingly frenetic if he stayed inside or went without flying for too long. He seemed to live almost exclusively for the opportunity to hook up, and no amount of sex seemed to quell his insatiable thirst.

However, something about seeing Birdperson had still caught him off guard.

Finally, he realised it wasn’t so much that Birdperson was hooking up, it was who he was hooking up with. 

Another birdperson.

It was relatively rare for them to come across another member of Birdperson’s species, but that wasn’t what the source of the surprise was either.

Then it clicked.

It was the way they fit each other perfectly, the way the other birdperson’s hands ran over Birdperson’s skin and feathers with an intuitive knowledge of how to please him. The sort of satisfaction he could only get from a member of his own species. Something Rick could never hope to achieve.

The thought jolted Rick out of his spiral and he became aware of a hot, spiky feeling rising between his stomach and his heart. He’d never been particularly good at identifying his own emotions, but he knew that this was one he was too sober for right now. He turned and strode back into the club.

When he left for the second time, half an hour and several double vodkas later, the couple was gone.

[pleasantfanartist]

From the fic A Better Man by @wle0416

[conanssummerchild]

writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

[eusuntgratie]

thank you for the tags @firstprincehornyramblings & @thighzp <3

sharing something a little different today. i've wanted to translate one of my shorter fics into spanish forEVER but always get stuck and give up. but i'm feeling inspired by @jocarthage's arabic and english drabble so i decided to give it a shot.

who knows how long it will take me to finish but here's a bit of baby, it's alright, my nora's pov of caulfield fic, en español

Ella sueña. No hay nada por ella aquí, entonces ella duerme, y piensa en las cosas buenas una y otra vez para que no las olvide. Oasis, antes de Jones. Los árboles, las flores, el cielo. Tripp, cuando no se duele demasiado pensar en su cara. Louise, segura y feliz, sonriendo y bailando con Roy. Walt, su cara dulce y sus abrazos cariñosos. A veces ella se pregunta dónde está Walt ahora. Ella piensa en él feliz y saludable con una familia que le ama. Sonriendo en el campo de las girasoles. Bailando cerca de la mesa. 

no pressure tagging @lostcol @bigassbowlingballhead @basil-bird @stratocumulusperlucidus @taste-thewaste

@onward--upward @rewritetheending @jbarneswilson @onthewaytosomewhere @firenati0n

@catdadacd @insecuregodcomplex @faketrex @jocarthage @beautifulcheat

@cha-melodius @sheepywritesfics <3

[rick-morty-100-years]

for all 18 of my followers, a short lil rick and morty fic for your friday evening!

[agentpeggycartering]

👽 please. I watched the original Roswell in 98 or 99ish, and Michael was one of my favorites. I think the two fucked up lonely boys would be a fun pairing 🙏🏻

I hope you enjoy! I will say that this is actually the Michael from the 2019 reboot, I've never actually seen the original. But I think that this will still be enjoyable, regardless!

This snippet is actually from the second fic in the series, Aliens Take Hollywood. (Everything I've shared before now has been from the first fic, Postcards from Roswell)

The two strangers just stand in the open door of the engine bay, looking at their phones and then back up again. Chim doesn’t recognize them and neither does Hen, if the head shake she gives him is any indication. Bobby is the one to call out to the visitors, moving down the stairs as he does so. “Can I help you gentlemen?” “Uh, yeah.” The curly haired one says, stepping forward after a nudge from his companion. “I’m looking for Evan Buckley?” “Buck? What’s your business?” Bobby asks, arms crossed, protective expression on his face. The man opens his mouth, likely to answer Bobby’s question, but before he can get a word in Buck is throwing his controller down and racing over to the stairs, gaping as he comes to a stop at Bobby’s shoulder. “Mikey?” “Hey, Evan.” And then Buck is pushing past Bobby, skipping steps as he crossed the engine bay in record time. He wraps his arms rather forcefully around the man, who stumbles back a few steps with the force of impact. It only takes a moment for him to reciprocate the gesture, arms coming up to embrace Buck in return, only hesitating for just a moment. His companion is watching all of this with a content smile on his face.

make me write

[dr-lizortecho]

Liz’s Oatian wedding dress for @ajna-eye-cogitations inspired by the lovely fic How It’s (Actually) Going To Be, that imagines a better ending for our lovely leading lady <3