#rnmnwafweekend2019

[insidious-intent]

A Downtown minute with Tyler Blackburn (x)

A @rnmnwafweekend gift to @emma-arthur who asked for more of Tyler’s smiles 💖

[bellakitse]

Alex and Isobel are not looking forward to the holidays. When their respective friends, Maria and Rosa, recommend they get away for Christmas and suggest they swap houses with a stranger the idea seems like a good one.

Isobel goes to his cabin in Roswell, and Alex goes to her house in L.A.

All they both want is some peace and quiet. Instead, they end up finding friendship, love and themselves.

A 21k ‘The Holiday’ AU 

READ ON AO3

[haloud]

my heart stops when you look at me

An au where Michael is a student at UNM and Alex is a musician just starting his career. They meet at a bar doing a live music night, and they catch each other’s eye across a crowded room...

-- ao3 --

Michael plants his notebook right over his face to block out the sun. Just for a second. If he closes his eyes, he wouldn’t be the only exhausted student passed out on the lawn after one too many pre-exam all-nighters this week. And the paper is so nice and cool against his cheeks…

“Guerin!”

He startles and smacks the notebook off his face. Matt is in three of his six classes, one of them the long-ass lab that is both Michael’s favorite part of the week and an exercise in restraint. He’s a good guy. A good guy with a really loud voice.

“Hi, Michael,” Erin says, looking down at him with furrowed eyebrows. She’s a junior and was Michael’s orientation leader. They’re sort of friends? He helped her fix her car when it was raining and she was stuck on campus at night, and she payed him fifty bucks for it. ‘You take what you get with first semester friends,’ Isobel says sagely, like she’s not also a first semester freshman, and like she hasn’t made a million friends already.

Ugh, that’s not fair. Isobel misses him and Max fiercely. At least as much as Michael misses her. At least there will be time to visit over the holiday—even if it’s forced time, since the dorms are closing and Michael has nowhere else to go.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” Michael sits up and brushes grass out of his hair, even though it’s finals week so it’s totally acceptable if he looks like he crawled out of a bush at any given moment.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” Erin asks.

“Just more of this.” Michael wiggles his notebook at her. “I have Jayaraman next semester too, so I want to make a good impression on the final.”

“Do you think you could maybe take one teeny, tiny night off?” Matt wheedles.

“Uh…”

“It’s Friday,” Erin cuts in, “And finals don’t start until next Thursday. You’ve totally got time to come downtown with us.”

“Take us downtown, she means. Her car is busted again.”

“You could have said something; I’d have fixed it.”

“It only happened, like, the other day, and we’ve all been busy. Anyway, there’s this great bar that’s having a music night, and I really want to go. I think you’d like it! You have great taste in music, Michael.”

“Uh…thanks?”

“You’re welcome! So you’re in?”

“Sure,” Michael says weakly, wishing he was saying anything else. New, crowded places with people he doesn’t know all that well. Sounds like a great and not at all stressful start to the weekend.

--------

This is the first time Michael has set foot in any of the bars around campus, and it turns out it looks like…every other bar Michael’s ever been in, only with more red and silver around the place.

“This is the best of them for live music,” Erin says as the bouncer digs his stamp into the back of Michael’s hand, printing him with a huge, wet X.

“Is anyone good playing? Or even anyone you’ve heard before?” Michael mostly wants to know how wasted his night is about to be. He has a spare notebook and his textbook shoved under his arm, but with the noise and the people…he’ll be so distracted not much will get done anyway. But, hey, friendship and all that. Friendship and a little light kidnapping, maybe.

“A couple of decent cover bands, some locals. But we’re here for one group in particular—there’s this guy out of Roswell, actually—”

“Oh my god,” Matt cuts in, “Did you drag us here to make us listen to a guy with a guitar sing about alien abductions.”

Matt is just as guilty of the dragging, Michael doesn’t point out.

“I said he’s from Roswell, don’t be a dick. And he’s not just a guy with a guitar, he’s part of a group and they’re really good, but his voice is amazing.”

Matt and Erin bicker good-naturedly all the way inside. The music already playing when they walk in is…fine. Better than the stuff Michael plays on the guitar Max gave him last Christmas, anyway, not that Michael lets being bad stop him from loving the music. But it’s still loud, still crowded, still a distraction he doesn’t need dropped in his lap by people he doesn’t really know

Michael hangs back, letting the others go ahead of him to get swallowed up by the crowd pushing against the low stage. Erin pauses for just a second, eyebrows raised in concern; she hooks her thumb toward the crush of people, asking if he’s coming, and Michael shakes his head, waving his notebook in response. He sticks to the edge of the crowd for a little bit; he edges toward the bar and gets a bottle of soda, just for something to do. Then, finally, someone stumbles out of one of the booths along the wall, and Michael darts for it before it can get claimed again. When he looks back, Erin and Matt are gone. He sighs, forcing his shoulders down. He drove, so it’s not like they can leave him stranded, and they’re together and have been here before, so they’re more fine than he is. And he’s fine.

A little bored, though, as setup ends and the next guy takes the stage and starts plucking out a moody ballad. Michael digs the point of his pen into a page, idly working it back and forth until the paper starts to tear under the soggy weight of ink and pressure. There’s not a formula he’s written down in these notes he doesn’t already have memorized by now, but still somehow it feels like sitting here surrounded by distractions is playing with fire. Or with failure, rather, and then probation, and then expulsion, and then he’s lost, well, everything. He fumbles his phone out of his pocket to check the time, runs through the time zone calculations in his mind. Isobel is states away, Max an entire ocean, but he could probably still call one of them just so they can jerk him out of his catastrophizing. But wouldn’t that be overreacting in itself? It’s not like he doesn’t know he’s going to pass the exam no matter what, or that one exam doesn’t define him (the Isobel answer vs. the Max answer).  He punches through to the next page. On stage, moody ballad guy says a quick thank you to a lukewarm crowd and exits stage left.

Two women take over the stage next. They pull Michael’s eye, the lights off their dark hair, the easy way they move around each other, so comfortable on stage Michael wonders if maybe they play here regularly. They dance around each other, weave around the wires, except when they collide on purpose, elbows into ribs, hips into hips, laughing and shoving past the other. They get set up, guitars and keyboards and all mic’d up, then one of the women comes up to the main mic, so close to smearing her poppy-red lipstick.

“Well, we’re supposed to be getting started, but somebody is running a little bit late.”

“If anyone make an alien abduction joke, we’ll get you thrown out,” the other woman crows from behind the keyboard.

This must be the group from Roswell, then, the whole reason Erin wanted to come in the first place. Michael flips his notebook closed to focus, then opens it again, then closes it when the woman abandons the mic to lean over the other side of the keyboard and talk in close with the other, then opens it again when he realizes he’s staring. He scruffs his hand through the back of his hair and hunches over his notes, as if he can duck from the hum of anticipation running through the crowd.

A hum that only gets louder and feverish when there’s a clatter behind the stage, and a guy, breathless and flushed from being outside, bounds up onto the stage to join the other two members of the band. A bit of a cheer comes up from the audience as he grabs one of the guitars, and he swings his head around to acknowledge them, teeth white and flashing in his grin as he raises a hand, stage lights playing off the subtle muscle in his arm, and Michael’s staring again, hand wandering to his mouth, picking at a chapped spot on his lip.

“Sorry about that,” the guy laughs into the mic. “You guys ready to get going?”

The cheer goes up again, louder this time. They start to play, but Michael--Michael’s gone way past distraction and into full on not paying attention on anything but, foot rattling on the sticky floor, eyes fixed magnetically on the guy at the front of the stage.

The singer has a little scar right over his eyebrow. Michael bites his thumb to make it stop tingling from want to reach out and follow the line down to his eye. He wants to touch him all over, really, wants to cup his face and feel his cheekbones under his thumbs and feel the softness of his dark hair on his fingertips, but it’s that little scar that calls to him most, calls for his fingers and his lips, and Michael bites down harder as another pulse of wanting goes through him.

“Brand new city, no more excuses,” had been Isobel’s mantra for months before any of them left, Iz and Michael to school and Max for his long-awaited road trip. But so far for Michael it hasn’t been much of either. He’s barely seen the city, and he’s been pretty comfortable in his, well, not comfortable but familiar, old excuses.

What’s an excuse, again? He thinks as the man on the stage smiles down at his guitar, eyes closed like he’s in bliss, ink-black eyelashes fanned out across those cheekbones.

Here’s one: Michael’s still never kissed a guy, no matter how sexually free television has reassured him college is supposed to be. This guy, no matter how much he makes all of Michael’s atoms sit up and take notice, no matter how his deep, smooth voice makes the hair on the back of Michael’s neck stand up and his breath catch in his lungs, there’s no guarantee he’s even into guys. And if he is he’s probably got guys lining up and he’s probably confident and experienced and if Michael came up to him after his set and tried to charm him he probably could but then if the singer wants him he’ll have to show his cards and just embarrass himself when the singer can definitely do better.

Better to languish in lonely anonymity with only his PHYS204 notes to keep him warm at night. It’s just better this way.

The slow song finishes, and the man starts in on something faster, something some people in the bar seem to recognize, as a cheer goes up around the stage.

“Yeah?” The man calls over the noise, a blinding grin spreading across his face as the crowd calls back an answer. The girl on bass whoops wildly along with the crowd, pouring more electric energy on top. Even Michael gets goosebumps all up and down his arms. The singer plays the song’s intro a second time with that brilliant smile making the music even better to Michael’s ears, so much so that he considers for a split second abandoning his notes and pressing into the crowd, pushing through bodies until he’s right up front, so the singer would look at him, see him, notice him even for just a split second before he moves on to the next city.

But he stays where he is, ass planted in the booth and feet cemented to the sticky floor, and he chomps on the end of his pen because he ran out of un-bitten parts of his thumb. There are a few people here that know this song well enough to sing along to the chorus, but Michael can’t even focus long enough to hear a single word, too busy watching the way the singer’s lips shape them, the way they shine under the lights like maybe they’re covered in a hint of gloss, and Michael wiggles his pen between his teeth wondering what it might taste like…

This song comes to an end too, and Michael sucks in a deep, slow breath as the singer wraps those lips around the neck of a water bottle and takes several deep gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing, showcasing that long, slender neck. Michael nearly spits his pen across the table as he fumbles to take a matching gulp of his soda, just so his mouth makes the same shape as the singer’s.

And then.

For a moment, just for a moment, and—Michael has to be imagining things, because there aren’t any lights pointing his way, isn’t anything, he must just be scanning the crowd but—for a second, he’s chewing his lip and watching elegant musician’s fingers screw the top back on a bottle, then the very next second he’s looking up and the singer is looking back at him. Michael’s breath freezes in his lungs. He can almost, almost still hear the last reverberating note of their last song, curled up and humming inside of his ribcage.

The moment snaps like an overstressed string a second later when one of his bandmates taps him on the shoulder and he looks around and laughs that gorgeous laugh and Michael melts into a puddle on the tabletop, his brain screaming in his ears.

“One more, then we have to step aside and give someone else a turn,” the singer says into the mic. Michael hears it muffled through his arms over his ears. He sits up so he can watch all through their last song. He’d close his eyes and let the music wash over him, but he wants to drink in the sight of the singer for as long as he possibly can, so he does, transfixed by the way his hands curve around the neck of his guitar, around the mic stand, the way his eyelashes shadow his cheekbones when he looks down, the way his eyes catch the light when he looks up and out across the crowd. For a breathless second, Michael thinks they make eye contact again, and then the second is gone.

The crowd cheers enthusiastically when the song ends, the three musicians thank them, and go to leave the stage. Michael exhales like it’s the first time he’s breathing all night.

The next act is a woman playing something quiet and mellow, and Michael sighs and curls his shoulders in, flipping open his textbook for the first time since that band took the stage. He likes studying, he does, but he likes it a little less in stark contrast to the magic that was sparking through him when that singer was at the mic.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” A slightly hoarse voice says.

Michael flips another page and doesn’t look up. “Uhh…no?”

He’s had it too good for too long, apparently. Fair enough, though; this place is packed. Anyway, maybe now that the Roswell group is done, Michael can go find Matt and Erin and get out of here. The guy slides into the other side of the booth, and, sighing, Michael flips his textbook and notes closed and goes to stand.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Look, man—” Then Michael chokes on his own spit as he finally looks up and sees who he’s talking to.

It’s him. Smudged eyeliner, dark hair glittering with sweat, skintight black t-shirt clinging to every curve and contour of his chest, that little scar on his eyebrow—Michael drops back down onto the seat and rocks back, not sure why he’s here, not sure what he wants, just not sure—

“I don’t want to keep you here,” the singer says, head tilted, almost apologetic as he pulls his hands toward himself, off the table, away from Michael. “But I saw you, and—I don’t know, thought we might get to know each other.”

“Uh, ok, yeah.” Michael bites down on his tongue, trying not to babble. “Um. You guys were really great. My first time hearing you, but yeah. I really love music, and you guys—yeah.”

Okay. Not smooth. But at least he hasn’t hit himself with anything yet, so he’s doing better than Max whenever he’s got a crush.

“Really? Thanks.” His face lights up in a broad smile. Michael’s heart thumps pitifully. The guy says, “Maria, Rosa, and I—” he points to the bar where the two women he was on stage with are sitting, naming them both, “haven’t been playing together long, but it’s still been a dream come true. I’m Alex, by the way.”

He holds out his hand. Michael swallows.

“Michael,” he says, and shakes his hand.

Goosebumps prickle up his arm to his shoulder at the warm brush of his hand, at the feeling of guitar callouses on his palm, at the shivering electric of the two of them touching for the first time. Michael’s hand is slightly clammy, but that’s okay, because Alex’s is too.

“So do you go to school here?” Alex asks, leaning forward.

“Um, yeah. Freshman. Although you could probably guess, considering I’m like the only one here with the mark of doom.” Michael waves his hand with its faded black X. Oh yeah, super cool, way to go, Mikey. Just broadcast to the world that you’re too young to drink and guys who make music and wear eyeliner will just come lining up to beat your door down.

“You’re definitely not the only one. I’d have one too if I wasn’t playing. As it is, the bartenders just know not to serve me anything that isn’t virgin.” He bats those long eyelashes. Michael wants to crawl under the table, half to hide, half to put his head on his knee.

“Are you guys touring?” Michael asks, poking himself in the lip with the gnawed end of his pen rather than spitting up his other question: Will you be in town long? Can I see you again?

“If you count pounding New Mexico pavement as touring,” Alex says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Maria’s family has owned a bar in our hometown for, like, ever, and her mom gets us some gigs through the grapevine. We’ve got a few more things lined up for the next few weeks, but nothing super exciting or anything.”

“Touring or not, you’ve probably got cooler places to be than I do,” Michael says, forcing a flicker of a smile, “my dorm room doesn’t even, like, have any posters in it. Not that cinder brick isn’t industrial chic or something—my sister likes to joke that—oh my god I’m babbling so badly, please put me out of my misery.” Michael’s face is burning with embarrassment, so hot that there’s probably like no way the cute guy can’t tell even through the dim ambiance of the bar.

And this guy—Alex—just smiles that enigmatic little smile (Max would call it a Mona Lisa smile, and oh my god if he’s starting to think like Max this must be serious) and taps his index finger against his lip.

“I might be able to fix your poster problem, or at least contribute to the cause,” he says. “Unless you think it’s just way too arrogant. Although maybe arrogance can be part of my rock star mystique. Does it work on me?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, in a way that ought to be a little silly but actually just makes Michael take another desperate chug of his soda to avoid babbling even more. The little scar moves with his eyebrows and Michael wants so badly to kiss it. To kiss him. Like he’s never wanted to kiss a guy before, not even Danny Giordano who sat next to him in first period and wore v-neck shirts and made him realize for the first time that he even liked guys. Nothing has ever come close to the way this man’s fingers look all long and strong on his guitar and oh my god is he making this weird he’s definitely making this weird.

“Hey,” Alex says, and he reaches out to grab Michael’s wrist before he can sink his teeth into his thumb again. He slides his thumb tenderly across the thin skin of Michael’s wrist, and holy shit he’s going to pass out.

Alex says, “Hey, it’s okay. Are you feeling okay? Are you here with anyone—”

“No, I’m fine—” Michael says, miserable, face bright red.

Even though he basically has to be wearing makeup to make his face look that perfect and smooth, Alex’s cheeks go a little bit pink too. “Um, right. Uh—posters! I can give you one. For the band. If you want it? I mean, not that you were just here for us or anything—I can ask another group if you’d prefer—”

“No! I want you. I mean, uh. Your band. ‘S poster. Would you sign it?”

“Would you want me to?”

“Please,” Michael breathes pitifully. But then he remembers that he’s chewed his pen into a gross nub of its former self and almost whimpers with disappointment.

Alex doesn’t disappoint, though. He gets up for just a second—Michael watches his back as he makes his way across the room, watches the heavy rise and fall of his boots and the sway of his shoulders and the way his ass looks in those painted-on jeans—to talk to one of the girls he was on stage with, the one who played the keys and Alex pointed out as Maria earlier. They talk for a bit; Maria even glances Michael’s way, a knowing smirk on her face, and Michael’s face catches on fire. He’s out of soda, so he doesn’t even have anything to drown himself with.

Maria turns back to Alex and laughs, and Michael squirms, digging his finger into a split seam in the seat’s upholstery. Are they talking about him? Okay, it’s probably sort of funny to Alex’s friends, yeah, that some scruffy college student is trying to talk to him, trying to…flirt? But that doesn’t mean it feels funny to Michael, whose heart is still fluttering, high on adrenaline, on the chance that Alex might come back to talk with him some more. Whatever it is Alex wants—to promote his band, sure, whatever, he’ll send Isobel their mixtape tonight—to hook up, maybe? Michael’s down for that too, even if it sucks to know that’s all he’d ever be. Fuck. Don’t come on too strong. There’s almost zero chance Alex is looking for a groupie. Get your shit together, Guerin, before he comes back.

Rosa shoves Alex’s shoulders and, still laughing, Alex goes along with it, letting her propel him a couple steps across the floor and back toward Michael. Michael’s hands flutter, searching for something new to fiddle with and finding nothing, and he shoves them into his hoodie pockets before Alex gets too close. With that gorgeous smile, and his eyes all sparkling and crinkled at the corners. 

“Sorry that took so long,” Alex says, sliding back into the booth. “Apparently to get a Sharpie from my friends you have to answer three riddles or something.”

Michael lets out a breathy sigh and, like, he’d deny it, but his eyelashes flutter when Alex bounces forward to lean on his elbows, bringing himself closer to Michael, as close as they can be with the table still separating them.

“Oh, no worries,” Michael replies, and he could punch the air in triumph when his voice comes out smooth and normal, “I’ve just been sitting here waiting for you to finish your quest and come back to rescue me.”

There. Is that flirty enough? Is he being obvious enough? Michael doesn’t know how to flirt with guys or how to tell if guys are flirting with him. He still doesn’t know why Alex came over here in the first place.

“No prince would keep you waiting for too long,” Alex responds, his dark eyes glittering, one lid dropping in a slow, teasing wink. Before Michael can figure out a suitably smooth response, Alex uncaps his marker and unrolls the poster he brought with him just enough to scrawl a dramatic signature across it, alongside his bandmates’ names that must have been added while he was talking to them.

They’d been so beautiful looking, together, laughing and teasing each other and having fun. Alex clearly has friends. What does he need Michael for? In high school if he got approached it was usually by girls who knew he was kind of easy, but he doesn’t want Alex to think of him like that—and he shouldn’t, right? Unless Michael just kind of gives off that desperate vibe? Not that he isn’t desperate, mind you, for any sliver of Alex’s attention he can get; not that he isn’t scanning the crowd for Erin and Matt and hoping he doesn’t see them so they can spend more time together until Alex decides to leave.

“Everything okay?” Alex asks for the second time that night. Michael looks up at him and his head is tilted again, dramatic brows furrowed. Slowly, like he’s reaching out to a new animal, he reaches across the table to touch Michael’s wrist, eyes on his face waiting for Michael to tell him no, but Michael lets him, and relishes the goosebumps climbing up his arms again.

Michael clears his throat, knowing this time he basically has to answer. “Yeah,” he says, “It’s just…why are you being so nice to me? You probably have lots of people who’d work way harder for your autograph.”

Alex blinks at that. Then a little smile curves his lips and he says, “Our eyes met across a crowded room. Isn’t that a good reason?”

“Maybe. But, usually,” Michael slips his thumbnail under the label on his soda bottle, “Usually, people tend to have an ulterior motive for being nice to strangers.”

“Really?”

Alex pulls him forward, then, hard enough for Michael to wince when his ribs knock against the tabletop, and Alex rucks his sleeve up, and then the cold, wet tip of the marker is stroking on his skin, and when Alex lets him go there are ten digits scrawled across his forearm.

“Give me a call, then we won’t be strangers anymore,” he says, eyebrows raised, lip caught between his teeth.

Michael just—Michael gapes at him, eyes wide and lost for words, until he’s called by Rosa and Maria and gets up to leave, and Michael reaches out for him on instinct, catches him by the hand.

“I will,” he says, “I’ll call you. I definitely will. Um. Talk to you later?”

“Can’t wait,” Alex breathes, squeezes Michael’s hand, then disappears into the crowd.

[aewriting]

Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future Fic

This little idea came to me this morning. It's a little blend of concern and reassurance.

Warning for sexual situations and references.

***

“Alex?”

Nothing.

“Alex?”

He’s sitting there, on the bed, staring into the middle distance, tension creasing his brow.

It’s concerning.

Michael crosses the distance between them and puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Alex startles a bit, looks up. “Oh. Hey.”

Michael hands him the towel.  “Figured you could use this.”

Alex takes it, starts to dab at his chin, his chest. Michael watches him with a mix of affection and apprehension. “Yeah. Thanks.”

They’re fucking again.  They’ve been fucking again.  And even as Michael thinks the words, he grimaces a little. That… that makes it sound… different than it is.  Well, it’s accurate.  They are fucking.  But it’s more than that.  It’s taken them almost a year to get here – failed relationships with other people, a conspiracy-dismantling partnership, a slow, tentative friendship.  And now –

Now Alex is naked in bed, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“What?”

Michael sighs, sits down next to Alex on the bed. “Alex…” he says, tilting his head.

And then Alex sighs, too, and rubs at his face with his hands.  “Shit,” he mutters.  “Think I missed a spot.”

Michael peers at him. “Oh, um, yeah. On your jaw, there.”

“Yeah.” Alex grabs the towel again, swipes at his face, and looks at Michael expectantly.

“You got it.”

Alex nods, a little, and is quiet again. Michael begins to wonder if he should ask Alex again if he’s okay when –

“Is it always like this?”

Michael stills and looks at Alex, confused. “Um, is what always like what?”

Alex laughs a little, but there’s no amusement in it. “Sex.  With you. Is, um, is it always…?” He trails off, looks at Michael.  “I’ve, I’ve been with other people, Michael, but it’s never, it’s never like it is with you.” He purses his lips and shakes his head a little.  “And… um, I guess I always thought it was a you thing.  But now, um, with new information, I dunno, I guess I’m wondering if it’s like an alien thing?”

Oh. Oh.

So this is what this is about.  Michael stares at Alex, scrutinizes him.  He looks so… vulnerable right now, still naked, open in a way that’s unusual for him.  Michael, he… he wants to reward this, them talking, but he feels like this topic is a potential landmine, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt Alex.

He clears his throat. “Um, explain it to me, Alex.  Like, what do you mean, an alien thing?”

Alex shrugs. “I mean, hell if I know.  I just…” He speaks slowly now, deliberately. “I just know that people I know who have had sex with aliens… they tend to fall pretty hard, right?  Liz. Maria.” A pause. “Even Cam, I think.” He looks down.  “I guess, guess I always thought our connection was special.” He looks up suddenly. “And it is. To me it is, Michael.  Like, this is actually a compliment, right? Like, the sex is really, really good. But I guess I’m just wondering if it’s not like some alien pheromone thing going on too, you know?”

Michael’s eyes narrow.  “Alien pheromone thing?”

Alex nods.  “I know it sounds kind of crazy but, like, now that we are… doing this again, it’s just got me thinking.  I dunno…” He shakes his head. “Shouldn’t have said anything, probably.”

Michael puts a hand on his back, then. “No, Alex. Not saying shit is why it’s taken us so long to have this again and I… I don’t wanna give that up, you know?”

Alex seems to relax a little, leans into Michael.

Michael bites his lip.  “I’ve had a lot of sex, Alex.  With a lot of people.  And I started early, probably too early, really, when I think about it.  And, ah,” he shrugs, “apparently I’m good at it? Like, that’s what people have told me.  And I’ve seen no reason not to believe them.”

Alex nods, small and tight.

“But, but this thing, between us…” Michael exhales deeply, shakes his head.  “I’ve never… it’s never been like that, not with other people.” Michael’s eyes narrow, and he looks at Alex. “You know,” he says, voice low, “after everything, everything with Maria, I wondered. Wondered if it wasn’t, like, a guy thing. I, I love having sex.  With anyone.” Alex looks down. “Hey,” Michael reassures, “I’m going somewhere with this. But, like…” He breathes again. “Fuck man,” he says, more direct now. “You know how Roswell is.  Not like there’s a lot of chances with guys, not like I could be real open about that here.  And after everything ended with Maria, it just got me wondering if maybe part of why it was so… ridiculously good with you was because you were a guy.  So I started, um, going up to Albuquerque from time to time.” Alex’s eyes widen.  “Um, trying stuff out with other guys.”

“And?”

“And…” Michael gives a little half-smile.  “And, yeah, I liked it. It was good.” He sees Alex getting tense.  “Good like it was with some of the women at the Pony.  Ones I liked, had a good connection with, you know?” He looks down. “But it was nothing, nothing like it was with you.”

Alex looks up then, questioning.

“I… I don’t think this is an alien thing, Alex.  And I don’t think it’s a me thing. I think… I think this is an us thing.”

Alex’s hand is in his hair, then, and he’s pulling him close, flush against him. Kissing him.

Michael chuckles, low in his throat. “Yeah. Like that. No one else kisses like that.” Michael kisses him again, deeply.  Breaks away reluctantly.  “And this us thing… it’s pretty incredible.”

Alex laughs a little.  “I think the word ‘epic’ has been thrown around, in the past.”

“Epic…” Michael murmurs, between kisses.  He lays Alex back down on the bed. “Cosmic…” Alex is opening to him, now, closing his eyes to the sensation. “Take your pick.”

Alex reaches up and pulls Michael on top of him, circles him with his arms to hold him in place. “Oh, I’ve picked, Michael. I’ve picked.”

[spaceskam]

the @rnmnwafweekend ends in a couple hours (or at least in a couple hours my time) but I’m gonna squeeze this last little one in!

“I used to think you were so fucking talented.”

Michael looked over his shoulder to see Alex wide-eyed and beautiful, staring down at his stupid pseudo-architectural idea of what his spaceship might be if he ever got around to it. Right now, though, he’d be okay with a life in this cabin with Alex typing behind him and occasionally playing with his hair.

“Used to?” Michael asked. Alex laughed softly, combing through his curls and tugging his head to lay back on the couch.

“Yeah, dude, look at that. That’s incredible,” he said, his necklace hanging down and grazing Michael’s shoulder. He gulped. “You ever try to draw something not a spaceship?”

“Not really.”

“You wanna try?”

For the first time in a long time, Michael didn’t have to be the one to tell Alex that he needed a break. He closed his laptop and put it to the side. He put his arm behind his head and threw the other one over the side of the couch, biceps rippling in a way that really shouldn’t have been casual.

Michael put his back to the coffee table and began sketching something new on a fresh sheet of paper. Alex was a vision as always, but now, as he was posing and trying to look picture-worthy, Michael couldn’t find words. He was beautiful.

“I’ve never drawn a person before, so you might come out looking weird,” Michael warned, slowly dragging his pencil in a way to make Alex’s jawline. He drew it six times before it even kind of did him justice. 

“I think you’ll do great,” Alex said sweetly, his fingers grazing his own arm as he settled in. Michael gulped and blinked a few times before deciding to focus for real.

The next hour went by quickly as Michael lost himself in drawing Alex and trying to make it perfect. Alex was asleep by the thirty-minute mark. Who knew getting him to slow down for a moment would result in him passing out? Well, Michael knew, but that was beside the point.

Michael drew the upper half of Alex’s body and, when it didn’t look like he did him enough justice, he tried again. He drew him four times before it was good enough and, even then, it was questionable. Nothing seemed to capture the beauty that was Alex Manes. Michael silently decided he would dedicate the rest of his free time to trying to draw him perfectly.

But now it was late and now Alex was asleep on the couch.

Michael put his sketchbook down on the coffee table, open to the page that held the best attempt, before standing up and stretching. He made his way around the cabin, double-checking that the doors were locked and turning off all the lights. He put Alex’s laptop on its charger, slipped both of their phones into the pockets of his sweats, and made sure his crutches were in the proper place in their bedroom. Then he picked up Alex.

With a little help from his telekinesis to make sure it wasn’t a rocky transition from the couch to his arms, he pretty securely picked him up like a toddler and slowly started to head to the bedroom. Alex mumbled incoherently against his neck, arms thrown haphazardly around his neck. This was it. This was what life was about.

Michael carefully, gently, placed him in bed. He hummed a sweet little noise, curling up instantly. Thankfully he hadn’t even put his prosthetic on that day. 

Michael stared at him for a moment longer, taking in the fact that he was beautiful. The fact that he was his. The fact that he got so fucking lucky.

He climbed into bed.

[salmonthestoryteller]

Deck the Halls

A Roswell New Mexico Fanfic

The Christmas light displays along the Pecos river lit up the night in a swirl of colors and movement.  Liz snuck in a short video of one of the displays on her phone to message to her father - she was pretty sure he had been more excited to hear about the tickets Max had bought for the event than she was.

“Those tickets begin selling in October, mija!  Max must have been planning this for quite a while.”

A forty-minute boat tour of Christmas lights probably wouldn’t have been her first choice for a winter date, to be honest, but Max had been quick to point out that no dancing was involved and it got them out of Roswell for a few hours.

The boat was full of other couples and families pointing out different displays excitedly, but something about the moment still felt serene. Towards the end of the tour, Liz leaned her head on Max’s shoulder and just watched the final displays pass by.

“Tired?”  Max asked her, even as he leaned his head against hers gently.

“Comfortable.  I may go to sleep on you, which is what you get for taking me on boat rides instead of dancing.”

Max gave a short laugh and turned his head to press a kiss to her hair.  “I’ll embarrass you on the dance floor next date.”  He promised.

“Deal.  How do you think Isobel is doing with Bella?”

“I have about seven notifications I’ve been ignoring as they came in.”

“How much you want to bet she drops her off with Alex and Mikey before we get back?”

“Stop it, she adores her.”

“She adores her Christmas Tree more.  Seriously, I’ll let you off the hook for dance night if I’m wrong.”  Liz offered.

“You sure?  Because you’re going to be wrong.”  Max looked at her.

“I won’t be wrong.”  Liz straightened and turned to him.  “And if I’m right, you have to come to Christmas Carol Karaoke at the Wild Pony with me.”

“Oh, come on.  That’s just painful.”

“So you admit, you’ll lose.”

“I am not losing.  She’ll keep her until we get home.”

“No texting or sending psychic messages because that’s cheating.”

“No texting, no psychic messages.  She’ll keep her until we get back.”

“Deal.”  Liz offered her hand and they shook on it.

-----

Michael was greeted by a grey fluffball with big green eyes when he opened the cabin door.

“This little terror knocked over my tree twice.”  Isobel informed him.

“There is nothing little about that cat.”  Michael replied.  He was pretty sure once she had finished growing, the cat would be almost as big as Buffy.

“Max and Liz were due back an hour ago.”

“Maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

“Max hasn’t texted.”

“They are on a date.  He might be a little preoccupied.” Michael smirked.

“Please do not speculate on our brother’s sex life.  And take the cat.”

“It’s revenge, y’know.”  Michael informed her as he took Bella into his arms.  She was serene during the exchange, her tail twitching only slightly.  “For all the pictures you’ve been forcing her to pose for all day.”

“You’ve been stalking your sister’s social media all afternoon?”  Alex teased, coming up behind him.

Michael threw him a betrayed look over his shoulder. "You're supposed to be on my side."

Buffy scampered up and Isobel scowled at them as she knelt down to pet her.  “I send you cute winter outfits and you dress poor Buffy in an ugly sweater.”

“You had Grizabella in reindeer ears.”  Alex pointed out.

“Oh, so you were stalking her social media too.”  Michael put in.

“I’ll text Max and let him know his little terror is here, and that he owes me for the broken ornaments.  I’d watch your tree if I were you.”

“Um… yeah.”  Alex glanced back into the cabin.

“Definitely.”  Michael nodded.

Isobel’s eyes narrowed as she stood back up.  “You do have a tree, don’t you?”

‘It’s… It’s being delivered tomorrow, actually.”  Alex excused.

Michael tried not to snort.  Isobel glanced at him suspiciously, and he quickly schooled his features.  “It’s the truth.”

“Uh-huh.”  Isobel crossed her arms.  “You better have pictures of it up and decorated by tomorrow night or I’ll be forced to take things into my own hands - and you know that’s not an idle threat.”

Michael closed the door before setting Bella down.  She jumped onto the couch, glaring at Buffy when she scampered over to sit next to her.  “It really isn’t an idle threat, you know.  Isobel is scary about these things.”

“She’s not scary.”

“Three years ago she secretly put reindeer antlers on my truck while I was at the Wild Pony.”

“So you’re really feeling for Grizabella right now.”

“Bella.”  Michael corrected.  He’d warned Liz that Max should not be trusted to name anything ever, but had she listened to him?  At least she’d wrangled a decent nickname for the poor cat.  “The point is if we do not send pictures of a decorated tree to Isobel tomorrow, she will come here and decorate the place herself.”

“So we’ll get a tree.”  Alex was clearly amused.

Michael narrowed his eyes.  “Do you even know where to get a tree in Roswell?”

“Don’t you?”

“Where would I have put a tree?”

Alex’s amusement softened to something closer to affection.  “Well, we have a place to put one now, so… let’s get a tree.”

Michael felt a soft smile curve his own lips.  “Yeah, okay.  Let’s get a tree.”

-----

It was hard for Liz to say if she'd lost consciousness. She hadn't been looking at the clock when yellow pollen had exploded over them both and Max had passed out - losing control of the car.  The jeep had slammed into the guardrail, which was slightly preferable to running off the road, but her head was pounding from the impact. She cataloged the aches she knew would be worse in a few hours, even as she forced her body to move - to unbuckle her seatbelt and take stock of the situation.

She couldn't guess how much of the pollen Max had breathed in, but he was still unconscious from it.  A hiss from the back seat was her only warning before more yellow pollen exploded over them both a second time.  It didn't affect her the way it did Max's biology,  but she still coughed when she breathed some in.  The new layer of the poison couldn't be doing Max any good.

Her door was against the guardrail, which left Max's door as the only way out. He didn't even twitch as she climbed on him to open the door, which was concerning.  More concerning, however, was the sound of another hiss from the backseat.  Prepared this time, Liz covered her mouth, noting that the pollen was spraying out of the potted poinsettia they'd gotten earlier in the evening.  It had been outside the restaurant they'd eaten dinner at, a small group of people handing them out to everyone passing by who would take one.  Nothing about it had struck her as odd at the time. It had simply seemed like part of the holiday festivities going on around the town.

This was clearly a preplanned attack, though. Which meant someone had been watching them for a while.  Her first priority was to keep any more of the pollen from getting to Max. Grabbing the poinsettia pot, she hurled it over the guardrail into the desert beyond, listening in satisfaction to it shatter in the distance. She checked her phone next, but there was no signal. At the moment she didn't see any other cars along the stretch of road, but that could change quickly.

"C'mon, Max.  Wake up." Her words, unsurprisingly, had no effect. She had no way of knowing exactly how much pollen he'd been dosed with or how long he'd remain unconscious. Unbuckling his seatbelt, she swung one of his arms over her shoulder and tried to pull him up from the seat. She gave up with a groan.  "Okay, that's not happening…"

Digging into the back of the Jeep, she pulled out a tarp and some nylon cord.  "Knew I could count on you to be a boy scout." She began to tie the cord in a loop, glancing uneasily back down the highway.  "Gonna have to make this fast, if I hurt you, I am so sorry." She pressed a kiss to his forehead before she began to pull the loop of the cord around him.

-----

“Yeah, Liz, we do have your cat.”  Michael picked up the call on the second ring but paused when no reply came. “Liz?”  Hello?”

When Michael frowned at the phone screen, Alex sat up straighter from his comfortable position on the couch with Buffy on his lap.  “Everything alright?”

“I don’t know.  We got disconnected.”  Michael clicked a few buttons, raising it to his ear.  “Straight to voicemail.”

“Well, if they’re still driving in from Carlsbad, there are some areas along the road where you lose reception.”  Alex pulled out his own phone - calling up his traffic app.  Buffy huffed at the lack of pets and moved to the other side of the couch.  Bella, curled up on the back, opened one eye to watch her.

“I guess that might be all it is.”  Michael sat on the arm of the couch since Buffy had stolen his seat.  “I’m just going to…”  He trailed off, closing his eyes.  After several long moments of silence, he gave a huff of frustration.  “Nothing.  Max must be out of my range.”

“Isobel says you need to practice more.”.

Michael scowled down at him.  “I regret introducing you two to each other.”

Alex gave a laugh.  “No, you don’t.  You love that I get along with your family.”

“You get along with Isobel.” Michael corrected pointedly.

“I get along with Max just fine.”

“You got into a brawl with Max.  Kyle and I have never even gotten into a physical fight, but you two did.”

“Old news.”  Alex insisted.

“That was six months ago.”

“Old news.”  He repeated, before changing the subject.  “By the way, I had a great idea about how to get a Christmas tree.”  Michael gave him a suspicious look, which he ignored, handing him his phone so he could look at the search results.

-----

The phone disconnected after two rings, as Liz lost the signal.  She gave a curse at her luck, glancing around the empty desert landscape again.  Max was tied into the tarp, which she’d been using to make it easier to drag him to safety.  The jeep was still somewhat in view in the distance, but she’d stopped to try her phone again.  If she could get a hold of someone in the group, they may be able to come get them and back them up against whoever had laid the trap.  There was also the chance that Michael or Isobel might be under attack as well, which she couldn’t afford to think about right then - one crisis at a time.

Two cars pulled up to the Jeep, and Liz crouched down next to Max - watching.  Three men stepped out of the vehicles - two aiming guns at the jeep before the third waved them away - noting it was empty.  He stepped forward to gaze out at the darkness outside the car headlights.  At the moment he was looking in the opposite direction than she’d taken them, but that could change.

“Miss Ortecho, I’m impressed.”  He called out.  “But I know you have to be close enough to hear me.  You’re outnumbered, the alien is unconscious at best.  Just turn him over to us, and you can go free.  Nothing personal.”

Alex had been working on shutting down various alien-hunting programs since he first discovered Project Shepherd.  Some of the people who’d been involved over the years had proven more dedicated than others, though.  This wasn’t the first attack the group had endured, but it was the first in quite some time.  Liz was no optimist, but she had begun to hope that they’d seen the last of them.

“Do a sweep.”  The man told the other two, and they turned on flashlights as they made their way into the desert, thankfully on the other side of the highway first.  Unfortunately, the leader didn’t follow - and she knew that attempting to pull Max farther would make too much noise.

It was Max they wanted, which meant she needed to lead them away.  There were rocks around her on the desert floor, and Liz picked one up - scratching a message into the dirt quickly.  When she’d finished, she leaned down to press a kiss to Max’s lips, lingering for a moment to gather herself.  Then she moved away from him - still keeping the road in sight.

When she was a safe distance away, with Max no longer visible to her, she picked up a rock and hurled it - the thud was not as satisfying as she’d hoped, and the leader on the highway didn’t even turn.  “C’mon…”  She picked up another and threw it again - aiming for the guardrail this time.  The sound was much more satisfying, and as the alien hunters began to shout at each other, she started running, making as much noise as possible.

-----

“Let’s get a Christmas tree, Michael.  We can cut down our own, it isn’t rocket science, Michael.  I’m a regular Paul Bunyan, Michael.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t my best idea.”  Alex was forced to admit, seeing as there had ended up being a couple of extra steps involved than he’d originally thought when the notion had struck him.

“It’s still dark out.”

“It’s six.”

“Why are we out of bed at six again?”

“Because we need a permit before we can chop down a tree.  And we have to go somewhere to get the permit.”

“I feel like this whole idea is starting to get out of control.”  Michael pointed out.

He probably wasn’t wrong.  “I thought the permit would be available on-line.  What kind of permit isn’t available to print off a computer?”

“Permits to cut down Christmas trees, apparently.”

There had been a brief argument over vehicles because Buffy and Bella were going to have to come with them, and Alex’s SUV was probably better for transporting all four of them, but Michael had pointed out that his truck would be better for transporting the actual tree.  Michael had won out, and Buffy was currently on the seat between them happy as a lark.  Bella had not been pleased with the lack of places to perch in Michael’s truck - having unsuccessfully attempted both the tiny ridge of dash and the back of the bench seat.  Both had proven too narrow and she was currently in the footwell on the passenger side, attacking Alex’s shoelaces.

Alex pointedly ignored Michael’s jibe.  “Did you text Liz?”

“Yeah, but I still haven’t heard back.”

“If they got in late, they might still be asleep.”

“Because they aren’t waking up at the crack of dawn to go get a permit to cut down a tree.”

“We could always let Isobel decorate for us.”

“You don’t play fair at all.”  Michael complained.

“...you know me, I play to win.”  Alex’s tone wasn’t quite as playful as the words implied, and Michael glanced over to find him watching him.

He hesitated a moment before replying.  “I’m glad you do.”

-----

The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky and landscape in yellow and oranges when Max gasped awake.  For a moment he struggled against the ropes around him, as his mind tried to catch up on events.  His body ached all over, and he remembered the cloud of yellow pollen.  Then nothing.  He must have passed out and crashed the jeep.  “Liz?  Liz!”

He wasn’t as good at telekinesis yet as Isobel, and nowhere near Michael’s level, but he could manage to untie the tarp from around him.  Remnants of the yellow pollen still clung to his coat, and despite the chill of the desert morning, he shrugged it off.  He could see where the jeep had crashed into the guardrail.  Two unknown vehicles were parked in front of and behind it, but there was no one in sight.

“Liz!”  He shouted again.

As he stood, he paused when he saw a message etched into the dirt beside him.

‘Follow Me.’

Max allowed himself to feel relief at the message, resting his hand on the letters.  Clearly, though, something was wrong, and he didn’t have much time.  He didn’t even know exactly how long he’d been out or when Liz had written the message.  Closing his eyes, he reached out to where he could feel the connection between Liz and himself, and he followed it.

-----

There was an array of ghost towns and abandoned buildings dotting the southwest.  Liz wasn’t sure if the building she found belonged to a forgotten town, or had once been privately owned and fallen into disrepair.  She’d been leading the alien hunters on a wild goose chase for hours.  She was exhausted, and the dilapidated structure gave her some much-needed cover.

Inside it was dusty, and probably not structurally safe, but at least she was hidden from sight.  She pulled out her phone, and barely resisted shouting in relief when she saw she had a signal.  She dialed Michael’s number first, but frowned when it went to voicemail.  She was about to try Isobel’s number next when a flash of green light filled the building.

She scrambled to her feet, instinct registering a threat in the sudden appearance of someone else.  Then her mind caught up with what she was seeing.  “Max!”

“Liz!”

Liz launched herself at him, curling her arms around his shoulders.  “You’re alright.  You’re safe.”

“I’m fine.”  Max returned the embrace, some of the tension in his body easing.  “Are you?”

“I am now.”

“Where are we?  What happened?”

“I have… no idea where we are.”  Liz admitted, stepping reluctantly back.  “There was this pollen mister - it must have had some sort of timer on it, and then these alien hunters showed up.  I’ve been leading them around all night - they can’t be far.  We need to go.”

“I’m not sure my jeep will work, and I don’t exactly have a clear fix on that - it’s just a stretch of road.  I’m not even sure what the mile marker is.”

“Michael didn’t pick up, do you think he and Isobel…?”

“One way to find out.  You ready?”  He held out his hand, which she took without hesitation.  Max closed his eyes, concentrating.  “I think I can hone in on Michael.”

There was the sound of footsteps from outside in the front area of the building..  “They’re coming.”  She warned him.

“Hold on.”

There was a flash of green light before bullets peppered the building, shredding through the old wooden walls of the structure.  When the door was kicked open by their pursuers a moment later, nobody was inside to be found.

-----

It had seemed like such an easy, simple task.  Domestic even.  Isobel had threatened them for proof of a tree, and it had turned out Michael had never had one of his own before.  It was the perfect opportunity to start a new tradition for both of them.  Thousands of people managed to do such a simple task without problems annually.  It had started out well enough, despite Michael’s teasing and complaints.  They’d gotten their permit.  They’d gone to one of the indicated areas on the maps to choose a tree.

In retrospect, Max and Liz not getting in contact before morning should have made obvious what was about to happen, Alex admitted to himself as he squared off with two armed gunman with an axe. Michael had stopped the first set of bullets mid-air with his mind, but their assailants seemed to be gearing up for round two  Their lack of reaction to his telekinesis had all sorts of alarm bells going off in Alex’s head.  Alien hunters, his mind provided unhelpfully.

“We just want the alien.”  One told him.

“Over my dead body.”  Alex replied.

“Your funeral.”

Michael caught the second set of bullets, but Alex saw one pull out a canister, and cursed. He had no doubt some of the orchid pollen was inside.  Before he could move, though, a green flash filled the area.  When the light faded, Max and Liz had appeared out of nowhere next to them.  It wasn’t the first time Alex had seen one of them teleport, but it was rare and drained a lot of their energy.

Their sudden appearance caused the two men to freeze, and Alex switched his grip on the axe - tossing it at the man with the canister.  He dodged, dropping it harmlessly to the ground, unopened.  There was a brief moment where he wondered if they would try to shoot again, but apparently the loss of the pollen and the appearance of more opponents was more than the job was worth.  They took off in the opposite direction, disappearing among the trees with an ease that Alex knew he’d have to revisit later.  It spoke of skill some of the previous alien hunters had lacked.

“Okay, so you’re throwing axes now… is it a bad time to mention that’s pretty hot?”  Michael said, his tone only partway joking despite the situation.

“Terrible timing, but remind me to revisit the thought later.”  Alex shot back, still keeping one eye on the trees around them for another attack.

Max suddenly sagged, stumbling slightly, and Michael jumped forward to help catch him.  “How far did you teleport?”

“Twice.”  Max admitted.

“Twice what?”

“He teleported twice.”  Liz provided.

“Shit, Max.”  Michael took his weight.  “You get attacked too?”

“Last night on the way home.”  Liz answered again, taking Max’s other arm - more to be near him than take any of his weight off Michael.

“Isobel.”  Max spoke up.

“You aren’t teleporting again, and I can’t take four of us on my own.”  Michael told him.

“I can call her.”  Alex offered.

“No signal.”  Liz told him, already checking her phone.

“Let’s just take the truck.”  Michael cut in.  “You can lie down in the back.”

Alex grabbed the Axe back up, along with the canister - he wasn’t about to let the alien hunters retrieve the weapon and use it later.  “Let’s go.”

-----

Two police cars were outside of Isobel’s house.

Despite his exhaustion, Max was the first one in through the door.  “Isobel!”

Isobel turned from where she was talking to Sheriff Valenti.  “Hey, you okay?”

“What happened? Are you okay?”  Max asked, looking her over for injuries.

“It was a break-in attempt, but your sister handled it before calling us.  Johnson has the perp and is going to take him to the station right now.”  Sheriff Valenti told him.  “I should have hired your sister instead of you, Evans.”

“Funny.”  Max told her.

“I’ll call you if I remember anything else.”  Isobel told her.

“We’ll let you know if we learn anything on our end.”  Sheriff Valenti assured her, before leaving.

“What happened to your head?”  Isobel noted the injury he’d received when he crashed the jeep.  It was a small bump, and he hadn't really paid any intention to it so far.

“We were in a car accident.  They used some sort of pollen time bomb on Max.  I had no signal last night and Michael didn’t pick up his phone this morning.”  Liz put in.

“Someone took me to the middle of the wilderness with poor reception to chop down a tree.”  Michael protested.

“There was also alien hunters.”  Alex pointed out.  “They must be from the last project.  They seemed pretty trained.”

“Luckily nobody was badly hurt.”  Max reassured her.

Isobel glared at Michael and Alex.  “So, you weren’t planning on getting a Christmas Tree.  Were you?”

“That is what you got from all of this?”  Michael asked her.

“I learned everything else from the mind of the guy who broke in.  He was mostly a grunt, but I got the gist of the operation, including headquarters location.”  Isobel shrugged.  “You two, though.  I bet you didn’t even get the tree.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Who has Grizabella by the way?”  Max asked.  He’d been too tired on the trip down to notice his surroundings.

“Bella.”  Michael and Liz corrected in unison.

“She’s in Michael’s truck cab.”  Alex volunteered the information.

“That’s right.  Isobel gave Bella to Michael and Alex.”  Liz grinned.

“Now wait a minute.”  Max turned to her.

“Hey, Alex, Max is coming to Christmas Carol Karaoke.  So you and Mikey have to come too.”

“Seriously, Max?”  Alex gave him an exasperated look.

“Why do I have to come?”  Michael asked.

“Because if I have to suffer, so do you.”

“Hey, attacks by alien hunters are extenuating circumstances.”  Max protested.

“No, you said she’d keep her until we got home, it absolutely counts.”  Liz disagreed.

“Which reminds me you owe me about seventy-five dollars in broken ornaments.”  Isobel cut in.

“Why can’t you just string popcorn like a normal person?”  Max asked her.

“Let’s get out of here while can.” Michael suggested to Alex.

“We want our cat back.”  Liz reminded them.

“You aren’t getting out of this just because of alien hunters.”  Isobel turned back to them.  “Tree.  Pictures.  Tonight.”

“We should probably compare notes.”  Liz mentioned.  “We can all get trees tomorrow.”

“Fine.”  Isobel relented.

“We already have a tree.”  Max pointed out.

“You have a big house.  You can have two.”  Isobel crossed her arms, smiling at him pointedly.

“Plenty of room.”  Max relented.

“Told you she was scary about this.”  Michael whispered to Alex.

“I didn’t catch that.”  Isobel glared at him.

“We should have eggnog while we discuss this.”  Michael suggested instead, and Isobel shot him a glare.  “Or hot toddies?”

“I have the makings for both.”  Isobel assured him, turning toward the kitchen.  “C’mon.”

“I’ll get Grizabella and Buffy.  Keys?”  Alex held out his hand to Michael, who handed them off.

“I’ll help.”  Liz volunteered.

‘Traitor.’  Max mouthed at her from behind Isoble’s back.

‘I love you.’  She mouthed back, before following Alex out to Michael’s truck.  “Did you really take Michael to cut down your own Christmas tree?”

“Yes, and it would  have been a great morning if we weren’t attacked.”  Alex told her.  “How was the lame date to view Christmas lights?”

“It wasn’t lame, it was sweet.”  Liz protested as he handed her Bella.  “We had dinner at the YellowBrix restaurant, we snuggled on a boat. We got poinsettias, which turned out to be an orchid pollen time bomb, but it’s the thought that counts.”

Alex grinned as he picked Buffy up and shut the truck door.  “So alien hunters aside, it’s a great start to the holidays.”

“Alien hunters aside.”  Liz agreed, as Bella bumped her forehead pointedly against her.  “C’mon, Bella, I’ll let you knock over Aunt Iz’s tree again as revenge for the reindeer antlers.”

“Oh, so you stalk Isobel’s social media, too.”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

[rnmnwafweekend]

Nebulous Well-adjusted Future Weekend of Possibilities (aka the RNM Fluffathon)

The fabulous fan events thus far in 2019 have made it increasingly clear that as a fandom blessed with some truly heartbreaking canon, we maaaybe skew a lil angsty in our fanworks as a whole. Just a teeny bit. ;D

Enter the Nebulous Well-adjusted Future Weekend of Possibilities! (aka the RNM Fluffathon)

Friday 13 through Sunday 15 December 2019, we encourage you to put on the warmest, fluffiest creator hat you've got and join us in good old-fashioned loveliness.

What's that, you say? You don't think you can create fluff? Of course you can! 

Here's a teaser list of the kinds of fanworks that would belong in the NWaF Weekend:

Hugs! Friends, family, lovers, partners... heck, draw one of the pod squad cuddling the family dog and you're golden.

Hanging out with friends. No, really. Makes us happy!

Joyous smut. Oh baby.

We know things were not exactly in a happy place at the end of season one. And this event is a little different, in that we’re not providing specific prompts up front, just an overarching theme to give us all some warm fuzzies.

That's where this Nebulous Well-adjusted Future* concept comes in:

Wanna explore Max doing, well, anything that requires breathing? NWaF.

Wanna write Michael and Alex happy together without having to figure out how exactly they got there? NWaF.

Wanna gif Isobel and Kyle as workout partners who trade right jabs and verbal barbs, but hey when did they become friends? Who cares! NWaF!

(Actually, that last one, please someone, please take that on. Thanking you in advance.)

Does everything have to be set in this Nebulous Well-adjusted Future? Of course not!

A little ode to friendship with the teenage human trio? Go for it.

Arturo and his baby girls and churro pancakes? Pass the forks, please.

Early divergence where nothing happened to Rosa, so Max and Liz *actually* blew off the bio project and spent their time making out after she read his sappy love letter? Awesooooome. (In fact, the background in the banner may be from their little dancing date in the desert...)

If it makes you happy. If you look at the draft images in your photo editing software and feel a grin tugging at your mouth. If you read over the words on your document page and giggle to yourself.

If you think of that idea for that creative endeavour that you keep putting aside because it seems silly and self-indulgent and Not Serious Enough but every time it crosses your mind, you find yourself smiling? Now we're talking.

Any character(s). Any pairing(s), from duos right on up to sense8-style RNM.

Romantic. Platonic. Families, blood and found. Solo character studies. 

If it brings you joy, bring it to us.

Just remember to tag it "rnmnwafweekend2019" within the first FIVE tags so we can share the wealth. <3

(*Credit to @cosmicsolipsism for the original tag, Nebulous Well-adjusted Future, which we adopted with permission.)

[alterarnm]

A List of Roswell New Mexico Events

(Past, Present & Future)

Alex Manes Appreciation Week - May 4th-10th #alexmanesweek2019

Dia De Maria - May 5th #dia de maria

Ortecho Appreciation Week - Jun 2nd-8th #ortechoweek2019

Crashfest 2019 - Jul 5th-7th #crashfest

Three Days of Echo - July 5th-7th #echo3days2019

Roswell New Mexico Week - Jul 22nd-28th #rnmweek19 or #roswellweek19

Cosmic Love Exchange - Aug 11th-17th #cosmic love exchange

Ladies of RNM Aug 17th-23rd #lofrnmweek2019 or #ladiesofrnmweek2019

RNM Creator Appreciation Sep 2-8 #rnmcreate19

Echo/Miluca Sep 14th-15th #candymilkshakes2019

Michael Guerin Week Sep 17th-23rd #mgweek19  and #guerinweek19

All Hallow's Roswell (All October, theme weekly) #allhallowsrnm and #allhallowsroswell

RIP Roswell Oct 30th-Nov 2nd #riproswell

Kyle Valenti Appreciation Week Nov 27th - Dec 1st #kvweek19 or #valentiweek19

Roswell Prompts Advent - December 1st-31st Details: https://roswellprompts.tumblr.com/post/188416850353/its-time-for-another-event-on-here-woooohoooooo

12 Days of Malex - December 1st - 12th 2019 #malexsanta and #malexsanta2019

Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future Weekend of Possibilities (aka the RNM Fluffathon) Dec 13th-15th 2019 #rnmnwafweekend2019

Roswell Secret Santa - December 24th - December 26th #roswellsanta

Roswell New Mexico Fandom Remix 2020 -January 26th - 31st 2020 #rnmfanficremix2020

Liz Ortecho Week - March 9th-15th 2020 #lizortechoweek  #lizweek2020

ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO BIG BANG SCHEDULE Author and Artists Sign-Ups - March 16th, 2020 Author Sign-Ups Close - June 23rd, 2020 Checkpoint 1 - July 20th, 2020 Checkpoint 2 - August 24th, 2020 Checkpoint 3 - September 21st, 2020 Rough Drafts Due - October 1st, 2020 Artist Claims - October 15th, 2020 Artist Checkpoint (Mandatory) - November 16th, 2020 Final Fic and Art Due - December 1st, 2020 Posting Starts - December 13th, 2020

Time After Time A Roswell New Mexico Alternate Era AU Event April 12th-18th, 2020 #alteraroswell2020

Maria DeLuca Weekend June 12th- June 14th #mariaweekend2020 or #mariadelucaweekend2020

Alex Manes Week June 22nd - June 28th 2020 #alexweek2020 and/or #alexappreciation2020

Malex Week 2020 July 13th - July 19th Details Pending

Max Evans Weekend July 31 - August 2nd 2020 #maxevansweekend

Isobel Evans Week August 2nd - Aug 8th, 2020 Themes and prompts will be posted by July 1st, if not sooner. #isobelevansweek20 and #isobelevansappreciation

12 Days of Malex - December 1st - 12th 2020 Details Pending

[rnmevents]

Welcome to RNM Events!

RNM Events was created with the idea in mind to keep track of all the events going on in the Roswell New Mexico fandom, all in one easy to find place!

Click on the event name to be taken to the event’s tumblr page, and click on the tag to see any postings currently related to that specific event.

Please don’t hesitate to send a message with any upcoming events.

DECEMBER (Ongoing)

Roswell Prompts: Advent

Month-long event

DECEMBER (Closed Events)

Malex Santa

Posting Dates: December 1st - December 12th

Tags: #malexsanta

Roswell Secret Santa

Posting Dates: December 24th - December 26th

Tags: #roswellsanta

DECEMBER (Upcoming)

Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future Weekend

Friday, December 13th - Sunday, December 15th

Tags: #rnmnwafweekend2019

Roswell New Mexico Cheer Fest

Friday, December 27th - Sunday, December 29th

Tags: #rnmcheerfest

Event cancelled per the organizers

JANUARY

Roswell New Mexico Fanfic Remix

Sign-ups close: Friday, December 13th

Posting Date: Sunday, January 26th

Tags: #rnmfanficremix2020 

MARCH

Liz Ortecho Week

Monday, March 9th - Sunday, March 15th

Tags: #lizortechoweek #lizweek2020

APRIL 

Time After Time: An Alternate AU Event

Sunday, April 12th - Saturday, April 18th

Tags: alteraroswell2020

Created: 12/12/19

Updated: 12/14/19

[haloud]

give me all you’ve got

-- ao3 -- rated e --

“Want you tonight,” Michael says, interrupting Alex when he’s on the couch trying to get a few things done on his laptop, squirming catlike into the circle of his arms and forcing him to set his computer aside. Alex wraps his arms around Michael’s back to keep him from slipping off, and in response Michael rolls his hips forward, until his knees hit the back of the couch and he can’t, physically, be any closer than he is right now.

“How do you want me?” Alex responds, nipping Michael’s lip because it’s just right there, full and pink and slightly chapped.

“Want you to be in charge.”

“I always am. In case you haven’t noticed.”

“What I mean,” Michael rocks his hips against Alex’s, and Alex immediately goes to pin him in place, “is that I want you in charge. Calling the shots. Telling me and Valenti what you want us to do…to you…to each other…”

Intriguing. Definitely intriguing. “And what does Kyle think about this plan?”

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

“Where is he?”

“Finishing up his five hundredth crunch or something. I can’t keep track, but I do know he’s already gotten himself all sweaty and worked up…” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and circles his ass despite the tight grip Alex has on his hips.

“Then maybe we should let him finish before moving on to the next phase of the evening.”

“That’s no fun. I think his abs will survive—”

“Do you really think I can’t find a way to keep your attention occupied until he’s done?”

Alex arches an eyebrow, daring Michael to contradict him—which he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, he fairly melts into Alex instead, parting his lips to invite a kiss, and Alex allows it, pressing his hand firmly into Michael’s lower back and surging forward to devour him, the texture of his lips and the taste of him on the back of his teeth and the velvet heat of his tongue sliding along Alex’s, seeking and hungry. Alex pins him there until he’s panting, until his lips are berry-red and swollen and shimmering with spit.

“If you head into the bedroom,” Alex murmurs, “I think you might find he’s just about ready for us. I’ll go get him. You’re going to sit in the middle of the bed, hands by your side, and wait for us, hm?”

“Yeah,” Michael breathes, stealing one more kiss before he slips off Alex’s lap and pads into the bedroom, the muscles of his back flexing—probably deliberately, the tease—as he does.

Kyle usually does his workouts at the gym in town, but he also has a tiny home gym in the back bedroom of his house, just a couple machines, weights, and a nice bit of floor space. When Alex gets there, he leans his hip on the doorframe and watches him wrapping up, sweat making his already-black hair even darker, shimmering on his golden skin, a droplet winding its way down his neck until it catches on the wing of his collarbone, drawing Alex’s attention straight to the vulnerable dip of his throat just there, the movement of his throat as he takes a deep pull of water. Still, Alex is content to wait in the doorway and be inspired for later.

“Hey,” Kyle says, still a little breathless but glowing under the lights as he gives Alex a brilliant smile.

“About ready to clean up?”

“Yeah, I was just about to. Need something?”

“Nope.” Alex smiles back, closed-mouth and subtle. “Just came by to make sure you do it right. Come on.”

Trusting Kyle will follow, Alex turns around and goes straight into the attached bathroom. He sits on the toilet while Kyle starts the water and undresses.

Once the shower heats up, Kyle raises an eyebrow, gestures to the cabinet where they keep a shower seat, and says, “Are you gonna join me? Might be a little tight.”

“Oh, no, I’m just here to supervise.”

Kyle blinks, a blush touching his cheeks, his mouth popping open like he wants to respond. But then he doesn’t. He strips off his shorts and steps under the spray, turning to give Alex a good view of his ass as he does. The shower stall has a glass door, so Alex’s view is unimpeded, and he watches with his head rolling casually on his shoulders, watches as Kyle soaps up his body, from his neck, white suds flowing across him, to his legs and feet, muscles tight from his workout and outlined in dramatic effect by the water streaming across his skin. Every so often, he’ll glance over Alex’s way, and every time he does his cock fills a little more, fattening against his thigh but untouched except for what’s necessary cleaning. That’s good. It’s good how he knows to put on a show without getting ahead of himself. Alex is hard too, and he leisurely palms himself through his pants as he drinks in the sight of him, exaggerating every movement for Kyle’s benefit, how he can touch himself but Kyle knows he can’t, knows Alex wouldn’t want him to.

When Kyle finally shuts the water off, Alex stands up, stretching, ready to get into the bedroom.

There, Michael is where Alex told him to be, sitting on the bed, head bowed forward, hands by his sides and kneading the quilt as he waits, and as Alex watches, a little shiver goes through him, and he squirms in place, then settles like he’s been forcing himself to stay still this whole time. Alex grins. Michael’s stillness is a triumph he can sink his teeth into.

“Guerin’s made a request,” Alex says, hooking his arm around Kyle’s waist.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm. Guerin, why don’t you tell Kyle what you’ve asked for tonight?”

Michael looks up, wets his lips, and says, “Want you to order me around.  Want to do whatever you want.”

Kyle laughs softly and leans into Alex’s embrace. “Are you just asking so you can not follow them and get yourself in trouble?”

Oh, very good. Alex rewards him with a sucking kiss on the corner of his jaw, Kyle letting his head roll limp to give Alex all the access he needs. Then Alex pulls back to say, “Well, Guerin? What do you have to say?”

Michael’s fingers tighten on the side of the bed. “I want to be good,” he says, already panting just a little bit, pupils hugely dilated.

“I believe you.” Alex lets go of Kyle and nudges him toward the bed. As soon as Kyle’s seated next to Michael, Alex says, “I want to see you kiss each other. Start there.”

Michael doesn’t waste any time following orders. He flings his leg over to straddle Kyle’s lap, cups his neck in both hands, and crushes their mouths together, open and biting and eating at him like he just can’t get enough. Kyle grips the back of his shirt for dear life, fistfuls of cotton t-shirt, dragging the fabric up to his shoulders, revealing long inches of Michael’s velvet-smooth skin.

Circling around to the end of the bed, Alex flicks open the top two buttons of his shirt. He could reprimand them both for overstepping the actual instructions—the moan Kyle lets out when Michael sucks on his tongue is evidence enough that they’re too eager tonight, that this isn’t going to last very long.

Alex can still have his fun, though.

“That’s enough,” he says, and laughs openly at the scandalized noise Michael makes when Kyle obeys and pulls away. “Good, Kyle,” Alex praises, and Kyle glows while Michael shoots him a wheedling sort of look. “Don’t give me that look, Michael. I saw where your hands were headed, and I haven’t told you to undress.”

“Alex…” Michael whines.

“Kyle, have you ever used a gag before? I can’t remember if it’s come up yet.”

“I think you’ve had a couple chances to demonstrate, yeah.” Kyle smirks, while Michael looks at Alex with those big, sparkling puppy eyes and a pout on his full pink mouth.

“Michael, I think you should pick one out, hm? Since you’re so eager to be wearing it, after all.”

It’s grandstanding; of course it is. They don’t have nearly enough toys to make it a serious choice, unless Michael wants to get seriously cheeky and try to pick something like Alex’s fingers or Kyle’s cock. Still, Michael narrows his eyes with a smirk, and then one of Kyle’s ties is draped around Alex’s neck. Alex barks out a laugh at that, charmed despite himself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll replace it,” he says to Kyle, and Kyle just nods, his eyes fixed on Michael, his pupils huge and black. “To me, Guerin.”

On his knees, Michael walks across the bed to Alex, and Alex winds the tie through his fingers, appreciating the artful slip of the fabric, so able already to imagine the wine-red fabric dark with drool, stuffing Michael’s mouth the color of rose petals.

“Hmm,” Alex hums, taking Michael by the chin, tilting his head this way and that. He pins Michael’s bottom lip with his thumb and tugs it open, and Michael parts willingly, the tip of his tongue flicking across the pad of Alex’s finger, and hell, Alex rewards him by pushing that thumb deeper in, pressing on his tongue, giving him something warm to fill his mouth with before he fills it up with something else.

“Okay, Guerin,” he murmurs, pulling his hand away, Michael’s head bobbing forward to chase it. Alex looks up at Kyle, and Kyle gets the message, reaching forward to get a fistful of curls and hold Michael’s head in place. “Open up.”

Eyes sparkling with eager mischief, Michael does, dropping his jaw and sticking out his tongue and making a muffled noise when Alex feeds him the fabric, fixing it in his mouth so it keeps him quiet without choking him or stopping his breath.

“That’s better,” Alex says. “Will you behave yourself now?”

Michael shakes his head.

“Good. Anything else would just be boring, wouldn’t it?” Alex pats his cheek just hard enough to add a whisper of a sting. “You want us to be hard on you, hm? Want to be shared between us? Passed back and forth until we’re satisfied and you’re all spent?”

Michael bobs his head up and down, eyes flicking back and forth between Alex and Kyle, wiggling his hips in place, communicating what he wants as best he can with his mouth full.

“Kyle, get him undressed, hm?”

Alex moves back to give Kyle access, and Kyle works quickly, stripping Michael of his shirt—and Michael cooperates beautifully, if clumsily, letting himself be moved and standing up so Kyle can remove his pants and underwear as well, until Michael is standing, swaying slightly, cock half hard, lidded eyes swinging back and forth between his two lovers. Alex inserts himself between them so he can leisurely stroke Michael until he’s aching and fully hard and lightly flexing his hips into Alex’s hand, panting around his gag. Kyle is rubbing himself through his shorts, slowly, teasing, as he watches Alex play with Michael.

“I think Kyle will have you first,” Alex says, holding Michael’s gaze. “Let him open you up so you’re all begging and desperate when I sink into you.”

Michael mewls, his cock twitching in Alex’s loose grip.

“You’re going to be good while Kyle fucks you, and maybe at the end I’ll let you come. But only when I’m done with you.”

Alex tightens his hand, and Michael’s eyes flutter shut, hips jerking forward, and it’s just when he’s starting to work up a rhythm that he shoves Michael back onto the bed, back toward Kyle, and says “All yours, Kyle. Get him ready for us.”

Without missing a beat, Kyle moves him, forces his thighs open and Michael goes pliantly, arching his back and wrapping his legs around Kyle’s waist. Kyle reaches for the lube and wets his fingers—but then he sucks in a short, sharp breath at the first touch against Michael’s hole, one finger slipping in easily, then two. He glances up at Alex, eyebrow raised, as he scissors his fingers, checking how Michael’s already stretched, already open, must have been the whole time he was waiting—

And here Alex was, thinking he was so good for staying so still.

Michael is huffing through the gag, grinning around it, squirming on Kyle’s fingers and ready to take so much more.

“Okay, then. Give him what he’s asking for,” Alex says, settling himself back against the headboard to watch.

Michael makes a muffled noise and reaches for him, but Alex grabs his wrist, pins his hand to the bed.

“No,” he says. “You’re giving Kyle your attention right now. Don’t you want to follow orders?”

While Alex is talking, Kyle gets himself ready and, without hesitation, sheathes himself in Michael’s body in one smooth thrust. Michael whines, eyes squeezing shut then widening wild and wet at Kyle’s next thrust, thighs flexing as his legs clench around Kyle’s waist, as his hips buck back to meet him, riding the rhythm Kyle sets.

“Fuck, Michael—” Kyle says, “—fuck—"

The two of them are gorgeous together. The noise Michael makes could be anything, a prayer or a plea or just Kyle’s name, both in and of itself. Having given him the order, Alex releases Michael’s hand, and Michael immediately reaches out for Kyle, splaying his fingers across those rippling abs, clawing them just enough to scratch lightly at his skin with every pass like it’s the only way Michael can be sure that this is real. He looks dreamy enough, dazed and drunken, eyes rolling and mouth open and back arched in a beautiful, hungry bow. Kyle pants out his exertion, black, black eyes devouring Michael’s face, then Alex’s, drinking in Michael’s pleasure, then demanding from Alex permission and praise and Alex licks his lips at the sight his two lovers make all tangled together, all sweat, all wrapped up in each other, all for him.

“Getting there?” he asks softly, and Kyle tosses his head back, says yeah, yes, yeah, uhh—and Michael loses the rhythm in favor of just squirming on his cock, begging for every bit of friction he can manage, every full inch he’s given, as Kyle takes him in short, sharp, artless thrusts, hands wrapped around his sides, thumbs dug into the crease of muscle beneath his pecs, eyes fixed on his raptured face.

Kyle comes, and it makes Michael gasp, makes him take a hiccup of a breath through the fabric stuffing him silent, makes his legs tighten and the rest of his body go slack as Kyle slips out of him, leaving him empty. Kyle grips himself through the aftershocks, shuddering full-body when Alex adds his own hand to the sensation, stroking him until he shakes his head, so sensitive it hurts.

“So good,” Alex says, stealing a kiss. Kyle digs his fingers into Alex’s hair and grips him tight. Alex kisses him as both a reward and for Michael’s benefit, as he watches them with slitted, teary eyes, cock red and aching against his belly, and untouched.

When Alex releases him, Kyle takes up Alex’s own spot against the headboard without being asked, and Alex has to lean all the way over Michael to give him another lingering, happy kiss. The motion puts Alex’s cock just inches from Michael’s face, and his mouth works around the gag, wishing it could work around something else. He moves his head as Alex draws back again, and Alex knows his game, how he’s trying to angle himself so Alex’s cock brushes his cheek, how he’s trying to nuzzle in, how he’s so needy getting fucked just once isn’t enough—

“Hold still,” Alex orders, but softly, a hand on Michael’s sternum to ground him, and Michael obeys beautifully as Alex fits himself between his spread legs, lifts them up, presses them back so his knees meet his chest and his ass is up and exposed for Alex to look at, red hot and fucked out, and Alex releases one leg so he can press his thumb to that giving muscle. But Michael, being good, keeps his leg up all the same, keeps himself open and vulnerable and twitching for him, for something to fill him up. Alex soothes him by pushing his thumb inside, soft and slick enough still not to need to reapply lube to his fingers, and Michael shudders in relief around him.

“I thought you wanted to follow orders tonight,” Alex says lightly, stroking his inner walls. “But I definitely didn’t tell you to finger yourself open for us. We would have done it together, you know. You could have had both of us inside you at once, our fingers working together on you, until you begged us for it.”

Michael whines and clenches as best he can down on Alex’s thumb. His eyes flutter shut, then he forces them open again, trying to focus on Alex and not quite getting there.

“I wonder what it is you were hoping for by taking matters into your own hands.” Alex works his thumb back out, replaces it with two fingers. “Were you just that needy? Did we leave you feeling lonely up here? Or maybe there was a particular punishment you were angling for. You’ll have to tell me later, when you’re allowed to talk again. That’s an order.”

He can’t help but grin at the noise Michael makes then, at the accompanying oh from Kyle, who laughs at himself, at his own arousal trying to twitch back to life from listening to all the filth Alex is spewing.

“For now, though,” Alex pulls his fingers away, and Michael’s body bears down, trying to keep them in, “You’re more than ready, aren’t you.”

Michael’s eyes roll all the way back when Alex fills him—Alex has to stop, even, half-inside, afraid for a brief second that Michael has actually passed out, before Michael urges him on with fluttering hands, shaking himself back to consciousness, breathy laughter on his lips. Alex stays still, eyebrows raised, until Michael can focus on him and nod, nod vigorously, reaching out to grab his hips, whatever part of Alex he can touch.

After that, Alex doesn’t miss a beat. He remembers Kyle’s rhythm, his whole arousal an afterimage of the flexing of his hips and Michael’s receiving, open need, so he matches it, Michael taking him beautifully, still somehow strong enough to lift himself for every stroke, despite the kittenish shaking in his thighs.

“Aching yet?” Alex asks, hand holding low on Michael’s belly, just above the desperately slick head of his cock, skin blazing and soft under his hand. “You feel amazing. Hot and perfect and made for me, made for us—is this what you needed? What you wanted?”

It’s a feeling more than a sound, under their skin, in the back of their minds, a word Michael shouldn’t be able to say for all his mouth his full and his tongue is still, but still he manages yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—

The pulsing, aware pleasure Michael bleeds into the air—Alex pulls it deep, deep into his lungs with every breath, and it takes over his bloodstream, and Alex fucks him hard and quick, no mercy, until he knows—Michael slaps the bed twice, eyes suddenly frantic, and his cock bobs, sticking in his own mess and leaking heavier and heavier, and Alex knows he can’t, can’t hold back anymore.

“Do it,” Alex orders. “Come. That’s an order—come for us, Michael—I’m not done with you yet, but I’m never going to be—”

A wail escapes Michael’s gag then, and he comes, untouched, so hard his hips finally go limp, letting Alex take what’s left of him, until he’s coming too, and fucking through the aftershocks until he’s utterly spent.

Before he’s even caught his breath, Alex fetches the soaked gag out of Michael’s mouth, presses their foreheads together and massages his jaw at the hinges, thumbs spanning far enough to brush the corners of his lips, every part of him that might be aching from the strain.

“So good,” he murmurs. Michael blinks sleepily at him and smiles a drunk little smile, sagging forward so all his weight is resting in Alex’s arms. Without being asked, Kyle gets a wet cloth to clean them up with and water to soothe Michael’s dry mouth, and to reward him Alex pulls him down to lay on Michael’s other side, and Kyle goes, smearing kisses all over the backs of Michael’s shoulders, tangling their legs together, drowning him in affection.

“God, thank you,” Michael breathes, nuzzling his nose against Alex’s, “fucking gods is right, the both of you.”

“You’re perfect,” Alex replies, digging his nails into Michael’s back in case there’s any inch of him left unfelt. “Kyle, tell him he’s perfect.”

“Bossy,” Michael says before Kyle can say anything, and Kyle laughs, his hand hunting in the spaces between their three bodies until he’s holding on to a part of Alex too, until they’re all connected.

“Perfect,” he says then.

They’re all a little drunk with it, Michael most of all, who rolls his head into the crook of Alex’s neck and slurs out “Love you, love you both,” ripened yearning and sore, sated joy rolling off of him in waves. They just hold him after that, and each other, until Michael is sleeping, a smile on his face.

[spaceskam]

For the @rnmnwafweekend and special thanks to @lire-casander who gave me the idea for this one ❤️

"I swear, if you don't get up, I am going to chain you to the back of your truck and drag you."

"You know, Alex, most festivities don't start with threats."

Alex couldn't help himself as he pouted, pulling on Michael's foot again in an attempt to pull it out of bed. He was pretty sure Michael was using a little telekinetic help to make it harder for him to do so.

"I wanna go get a tree!"

"So do I, but not at a ridiculous time of morning," Michael grumbled. Alex groaned, letting go of his foot.

"I want to go early so we can decorate it and then we can make Christmas cookies and hot chocolate and sit in front of the fire and watch really shitty Christmas romcoms like God intended," Alex explained. This was his first Christmas with a boyfriend and his first Christmas not in the Air Force. He wanted to make the most of it.

He'd agreed to wait to get a Christmas tree until a few days before Christmas and he'd agreed no presents and he'd agreed to not go too all out with decorating. He'd only bought enough lights to string from the gutters that he put up the day after Thanksgiving and he only bought enough ornaments to cover a medium sized tree. He thought he was being quite civil.

Now, however, it was Christmas Eve and he and Michael had done approximately nothing romantic for Christmas and it was ruining all of his fantasies.

"We can still do all of that if we sleep in," Michael argued.

"No!" Alex whined. He didn't think Michael understood just how much it meant to him to actually be Christmas-y for once. He wanted it so much. He wanted to be normal and cozy and lovey. He knew he could do that every day, but he liked that there were days for it. He liked that he had a perfect excuse to get those cozy and lovey moments at least a few times a year. It was an excuse to be romantic and hopelessly in love.

And Michael was ruining it.

"Fine, I'm going by myself," Alex said.

"No, you're not," Michael argued.

For a moment, Alex thought that meant Michael was going to get up and get dressed and go with him. It took him a minute of smiling to realize that he was just being an asshole.

So Alex left and went to get the damn tree by himself.

-

"He just wouldn't get up?"

"He wouldn't get up!" Alex shouted. He was on a four-way call with Isobel, Maria, and Liz, specially designed for them to bitch about their significant others or anything necessary.

"I'm going to call him, that's ridiculous," Isobel said.

"No, don't," Alex sighed, "I don't wanna force him to do something he doesn't wanna do. If he doesn't want to do Christmas like I do, that's fine."

"Did he at least call after you left?" Liz asked.

Alex didn't cry because it was Christmas Eve and you don't cry on Christmas Eve unless it was happy tears over a Christmas Miracle. "No."

"I'm gonna kill him," Maria said.

"Not if I kill him first," Isobel added.

"It's fine," Alex decided, "It's fine."

He managed to end the call before he got home which was a good thing because his barely decorated house was now covered in lights and blow-up Santas and plastic reindeer nailed to the roof. It took him a minute to even turn off the car.

"What the f–"

"I felt guilty," Michael said as he came out of the front door, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands. He was still rumpled with sleep and in sweats, but it was obvious he'd scrambled to decorate before Alex could return. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Alex said quietly, still taking it in. Michael came close and grabbed his hand, wrapping it around the mug. It smelled like peppermint.

"No, it's not. I should've just gotten up. It was one thing you asked of me and I couldn't even do that. I don't want to be a bad boyfriend," Michael said honestly. Alex just stared at him and tried to weigh if this made up for having to tie the tree to the roof of his SUV by himself.

"Me neither," Alex said. Michael quirked a smile and pressed his lips to Alex's forehead.

"Alright, you go inside and I'll get the tree down. We can decorate it and I got all the ingredients to make cookies from scratch instead of just the dough. And," Michael said, grinning as he ushered Alex inside, "I got pretzels and chocolate and peanuts and all that shit that Mrs. Evans used to put in the bomb Christmas candy she made and we're gonna make some."

Alex felt his heart swelling as he absorbed the inside. There were Christmas lights strung on the mantle and stockings hanging, one of the Vanessa Hudgens Netflix Christmas movies was queued up on the tv, the house smelled like ambiguously Christmas scented candles, faint Christmas music played in the background, and mistletoe hung in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Alex shook his head and looked to Michael.

"You did all this because you felt guilty?" he asked.

"Well, most of it I planned," he admitted, "But I did want to get the tree with you and I'm sorry I didn't. But I promise I'll do everything else."

"Okay," Alex said, deciding it was enough. And if Michael tried to back out of Valentine's day, he could always use this as guilt material. He accepted a kiss from him, smiling into it until he could no longer kiss and smile at the same time. Michael chuckled.

"Alright, go wash your hands and I'll go get the tree," Michael said, patting Alex on the ass before heading outside.

It truly was a Christmas miracle.

[salmonthestoryteller]

Roswell New Mexico Fandom Events

So I keep a list of upcoming events to remind me to write ahead. (So far I'd say that hasn't necessarily been a complete success...)

For Roswell New Mexico we've had a lot since s1 ended and more to come. So, if anyone wants to check out what they've missed (or maybe haven't seen an upcoming event) - here's a list of RNM events and the # they are under in a search.

Alex Manes Appreciation Week - May 4th-10th 2019

#alexmanesweek2019

Dia De Maria - May 5th 2019

#dia de maria

Ortecho Appreciation Week - Jun 2nd-8th 2019

#ortechoweek2019

Crashfest 2019 - Jul 5th-7th 2019

#crashfest

Three Days of Echo - July 5th-7th 2019

#echo3days2019

Roswell New Mexico Week - Jul 22nd-28th 2019

#rnmweek19 or #roswellweek19

Cosmic Love Exchange - Aug 11th-17th 2019

#cosmic love exchange

Ladies of RNM Aug 17th-23rd 2019

#lofrnmweek2019 or #ladiesofrnmweek2019

RNM Creator Appreciation Sep 1st-7th 2019

#rnmcreate19

Milkshakes & Candy (Echo/Miluca) Sep 14th-15th 2019

#candymilkshakes2019

Michael Guerin Week Sep 17th-23rd 2019

#mgweek19  and #guerinweek19

All Hallow's Roswell (All October) 2019

#allhallowsrnm and #allhallowsroswell

RIP Roswell Oct 30th-Nov 2nd 2019

#riproswell

Kyle Valenti Appreciation Week Nov 27th - Dec 1st 2019

#kvweek19 or #valentiweek19

12 Days of Malex - December 1st - 12th 2019

#malexsanta and #malexsanta2019 

Roswell Prompts Advent - December 1st - 31st 2019

Prompts Here

Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future Weekend of Possibilities

(aka the RNM Fluffathon) Dec 13th-15th 2019

#rnmnwafweekend2019

Roswell Secret Santa - December 24th - December 26th 2019

#roswellsanta

Roswell New Mexico Fandom Remix 2020 - January 26th - January 31st 2020

#rnmfanficremix2020

Liz Ortecho Week - March 9th-15th 2020

#lizortechoweek  #lizweek2020

Roswell, New Mexico Big Bang Schedule

Author and Artists Sign-Ups - March 16th, 2020 Author Sign-Ups Close - June 23rd, 2020 Checkpoint 1 - July 20th, 2020 Checkpoint 2 - August 24th, 2020 Checkpoint 3 - September 21st, 2020 Rough Drafts Due - October 1st, 2020 Artist Claims - October 15th, 2020 Artist Checkpoint (Mandatory) - November 16th, 2020 Final Fic and Art Due - December 1st, 2020 Posting Starts - December 13th, 2020

Time After Time: A Roswell New Mexico Alternate Era AU Event - April 12th-18th, 2020

#alteraroswell2020

Alex Manes Week - June 2020

Details Pending

Isobel Evans Week - August 2nd - Aug 8th, 2020

Themes and prompts will be posted by July 1st, if not sooner.

#isobelevansweek20 and #isobelevansappreciation

12 Days of Malex - December 1st - 12th 2020

Details Pending

[rnmnwafweekend]

What Is Fluff?

Baby, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no no

What Is Fluff?

There’s a common perception that if something has been labelled as “fluff”, it must therefore be cutesy, tooth-achingly sweet, and Teen rated at most (more typically General Audiences). In other words, it’s a jar of Marshmallow Fluff* in fanworks form.

There is absolutely a place for that. But it isn’t a complete picture of what the genre can be. Think outside the jar on this one ;)

For the Nebulous Well-adjusted Weekend, it’s about the feels, not the cute factor. When you’ve read the fic or watched the vid or enjoyed the gifset / moodboard / etc., you should feel like this:

Let’s talk about translating that feeling into fanworks. 

Every story - in every format - needs a central conflict. That’s what makes it a story. Conflict is one of those words that tend to make people twitch, though, because it isn’t always understood or expressed very well, and popular media usage gives it a certain slant that can make it feel sensationalist or angst-ridden.

However. It doesn’t need to be World War Three to be conflict! In fact, one of the defining characteristics of a fluffier fanwork is that the conflict providing some of the framework for the story could be classified as a minor threat. No DEFCON 5 here.

Let’s take a (really bad) prompt and map out some possibilities, to see what could fall into the fluff category, shall we?

Scenario: person A and person B are a couple. They live together with their dog. It’s morning; they’ve both just woken up; it’s raining. Person A says, “I’m exhausted. I’m gonna go back to sleep. You take the dog out.”

Very banal, lol. But hopefully the conflict here is crystal clear precisely because it’s so very ordinary! Now, we’ll explore five potential storylines stemming from this scenario.

WORLD WAR: six months later, this married couple is in a lawyer’s office disputing custody of the dog. Think War of the Roses (film with Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner). It’s ugly and deeply unhappy. 

Status: not fluff. Not appropriate for NWaF Weekend fanworks.

CIVIL WAR: argument ensues, escalates to shouting match, things get said that cannot be taken back, and the relationship is irreparably harmed. Couple continues to try to make it work but ends up failing miserably. Cue Michelle Branch.

Status: not fluff. Not appropriate for NWaF Weekend fanworks.

ARMED CONFLICT: persons A and B were both out late fighting the zombie apocalypse. Person A was injured not too long ago and still tires more easily than usual. Whoever takes the dog for a run, it’ll actually be a *run*, and however slim - they are in a well-protected area - there is also still always the possibility the dog walker might not come back. The couple have a quiet moment together, whispered words, soft kisses, maybe declarations of love. A goes back to sleep. B gets ready to take the dog outside.

Status: avant-garde fluff. Appropriate for NWaF Weekend fanworks.

MINOR SKIRMISH: persons A and B snipe at each other like their story title is, Bitchy and Grumpy Have a Dog. Eventually agree B will take the dog out this morning if A does it the next two. A goes back to sleep. B gets ready to take the dog outside.

Status: domestic fluff. Appropriate for NWaF Weekend fanworks.

WEAPONS SHEATHED: in lieu of arguing, person A goes on to say they’ll make it worth person B’s while when B comes back inside. A goes to sleep. B takes the dog for a walk, B comes back in, gets back in bed. A and B have sex.

Status: smut fluff. Appropriate for NWaF Weekend fanworks.

What kind of fluff???

Smut fluff and domestic fluff are pretty clear, and often overlap. Both are types frequently included in the fluff umbrella term.

Avant-garde fluff is a term that’s been mostly used for a laugh, but it’s a useful distinction, loosely defined as “the tender, longing looks and unspoken words in between acts of angst.” (If anyone knows where this description originated, I’ll edit to credit. I’ve just seen it floating around.)

A concrete example y’all should be familiar with is the scene in S01E13: Recovering the Satellites, where Liz and Max have their running through the desert moment and then proceed to Max’s house, where they begin undressing and Liz says, ”Nothing hurts. Please don’t stop,” and they don’t. But there’s all that stuff with Noah prior to this scene, and all that stuff with Rosa after. It is bookended by tragedy but the moment itself is pure gold. (And, it’s smut fluff AND avant-garde fluff! Even better!)

So if it’s bookended by tragedy, why is it fluff? Because that slice of non-tragedy in the middle brings me joy and makes me do the Ninth Doctor dance of Everybody Lives, that’s why! HOWEVER. Fanworks which fall on the edge like that will be tagged as “avant-garde fluff” when reblogged on the event Tumblr, so those who wish to avoid it can easily do so.

We’ll be putting out FAQs and other informational posts as time goes on, but hopefully the above provides some clarity on what sort of fanworks we’re hoping for! The ask box is open, too, as are DMs if you’d like to chat in private.

* for the non-Americans, a jar of Marshmallow Fluff. As I understand it, it’s basically the gooey insides of marshmallows in a jar.

[rnmevents]

Happy Friday the 13th!

Today is the LAST DAY to sign up for the RNM Fanfic Remix 2020! Sign-ups can be completed here on the event’s AO3 page.

Today starts the Nebulous Well-Adjusted Future Weekend! Don’t forget when submitting a post to the event to use the tag #rnmnwafweekend2019.

Two weeks until the RNM Cheer Fest! Start prepping those holiday-themed posts! RNM Cheer Fest cancelled as of 12/14/19

[spaceskam]

Another one for the @rnmnwafweekend this time inspired by @lambourngb's lovely idea ❤️

"Hey!"

"You're going to get salmonella and die."

Isobel glared as Kyle took the cookie dough out of reach. What was the fun of making cookies if you couldn't eat all of them before the reached the oven?

"I'm an alien, we don't get salmonella. And even if we did, it would be totally worth it," Isobel argued, slipping off the chair to go up behind Kyle. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a squeeze, hoping to distract him long enough to reach around and steal another square of cookie dough.

Again, he swatted her hand away.

"We don't know that."

"Kyle, it hasn't killed me yet, so I think it's safe to say I'm not gonna die from cookie dough," she said stealing another piece and then weaving out of his reach before he could take it back.

"Okay, well you're going to eat them all before we have any to cook and decorate," he sighed, "We told Alex we'd bring cookies to the Christmas party."

"We can bring 3 cookies and a tub of icing and maybe then he'll learn that I'm the one who throws Christmas parties," Isobel retorted, giving a condescending smile. She loved Alex, she really did, and she was so thankful he'd whipped Michael into shape. She just wasn't too happy he stole her thunder.

"He threw it because he thought you throw parties all year long and you would want a break," Kyle said, turning around and reaching for her. She let him pull her closer and she smiled, her pristine nails resting against his scruffy chin.

She liked Kyle Valenti more than words could say. She couldn't ever remember feeling this way before. It was all light and fluffy and easy. She never thought too much about anything and he didn't ask it of her. They just moved one day at a time with no extra worries. It was nice.

Before she could go in for a kiss, he buried his face in her neck. Isobel's eyes closed as she held him to her, relaxing to the feeling of him breathing against her neck.

"Wanna go to bed?" Isobel asked, scraping at the nape of his neck with her nails. Chills rose on his skin.

"We have so many cookies to bake."

"I'll make you a deal. I won't eat them and we'll put them in the oven. That gives us about 20 minutes to make out on the couch before we have to take them out and 10 minutes to make out against the fridge while they're cooling. We decorate them, put them in a container, and then I cover you in the rest of the icing and lick it off. How about that?"

"Did you just calculate how long I can kiss you for and then make me the one that has to get all sticky?" Kyle asked, but the tone of his voice told her that he wasn't against it.

"Yes," she said, carefully reaching behind him and taking another square of cookie dough that she promptly popped into her mouth before he could lift his head.

He simply smiled and rolled his eyes before leaning in for a kiss.

"Merry Christmas to me, then."

[rnmnwafweekend]

NWaF Weekend FAQs

Most of the details you'll need are in the main info post but there's a few extra bits, captured here.

How many fanworks can I post for the NWaF Weekend?

Minimum one, maximum infinity! Okay, practically speaking, the maximum is whatever you want and can manage to post over the three days. That might translate to one fanwork for the event in total, or it might be vegetables. (Five a day or more, c'mon, you know this!)

What if I don't finish in time, can I still post my fanwork?

Of course. I won't be still be monitoring the event tag if you can't post until the 20th, for example, but if you pop me a DM, I'll still reblog.

What if my tagged fanwork isn't showing up on the NWaF Weekend blog?

If you notice your work has been missed, please please send me a DM with a link. I've been the op with this issue before and that's been the best solution for both op and event person. That said, please do give me time to reblog everything!

So it doesn't have to be in the actual future. Does it have to be canon compliant?

Not even a little bit. Go nuts!

You're really going with no prompts, huh?

Well, yes. And no. A couple of lists of fluffy prompts have been reblogged, and I'm putting a micro list of micro prompts at the end of this here post.

That’s still a lot of choices.

If you want to participate but really need a specific prompt to be able to do so, send me a DM. I will assign you a prompt directly.

Micro List of Micro Prompts

01. Waking up slowly

02. Pinky swearing

03. Spontaneous gifts

04. Third kisses

05. Midnight confessions

06. One-armed hugs

07. Comfort food

08. Garden benches

09. Ice cream

10. Music boxes

11. Fairy lights

12. Afternoon tea

13. Wildflowers

14. Extra blankets

15. Storm-bound (snow, rain, etc.) somewhere cozy