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spaceskam · 3 years

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8 for Malex? Thanks!

*hiding because this took an embarrassing amount of time I'm sorry*

tags: high school au, slight mental health stuff goin’ on, bed sharing

8. bedtime stories [ao3]

Alex never claimed to be subtle.

He watched Michael openly, his thumb between his teeth as he eyed the way he pulled his shirt over his head. He knew this was probably inappropriate. However, Michael was hot and had yet to tell him to stop staring. Sometimes it seemed like he deliberately did things to make Alex stare. So Alex kept on and hoped that, if he was only doing this to make fun of Alex, at least he got something nice to look at.

“Hey, Alex,” Michael called, tossing his sweaty shirt into his bag and grabbing a dry one, “Do you think your brother would mind if I stayed over tonight? I don’t feel like going home.”

Alex swallowed and sat up straight. He looked around at the other guys in the locker room. He was sure one of them would say something. Magically, they didn’t.

“Clay won’t care,” Alex said, trying to seem nonchalant. Michael closed his locker and looked at him with a massive grin as he pulled his shirt down. His hair was still damp with sweat and it stuck to his forehead. Both of those things together were too much for Alex’s sanity.

“Cool. Meet you after school at my truck?”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Michael leaned close into Alex’s face and gave a mocking, “Okay, yeah,” before he laughed and walked around Alex. He twisted on the bench and followed him with his eyes as he went to the other side of the locker room where his other friends were. They instantly started talking about the game next Friday and how they were playing Carlsbad and how their team’s cheerleaders were hot. Michael didn’t deny it and Alex tried not to feel weird about it.

Instead, he grabbed his back and quickly headed out of the locker room. He hated gym and had put it off until his senior year, but now he was stuck doing it with basically no one to talk to except sophomore loners who seemed content to fail the class. He felt that.

The only highlight of it was Michael Guerin who he got to watch work up a sweat for 45 minutes every single day of the week. He got to watch him play dodgeball with too much enthusiasm and run the mile at the fastest in the class and play put-out with his friends. Alex had, somehow, befriended him when they were freshmen and both the youngest in their math class, so they stuck together. Then sophomore year they had Spanish together, junior year they had chemistry, this year they had gym. It wasn’t much but it was enough to spark an unlikely class-only friendship that turned into a school-only friendship that turned into an actual one.

He was Alex’s favorite person in the world.

The next two classes passed by relatively quickly, solely relying on the fact that Alex wasn’t paying attention and instead doodling aimlessly in his notes. Science was boring, math was easy.

Alex let himself into Michael’s truck because he was a dumbass who never locked it and sat in the passenger seat. His notebook stayed in his lap and he kept shading in the boat he was working on as the parking lot filled with other people going to their cars and people going to their buses. Michael always talked to his fellow football players before he left considering they couldn’t leave until the buses did anyway, so Alex wasn’t in a rush.

When Michael did climb in, he raised his head to get a good look at him. Because he always wanted to get a good look at him. Today, just like most days, he looked gorgeous and lit up from the inside and he was already staring at Alex.

“What’cha drawing?” he asked, scooting to the middle to look at Alex’s book. He pressed up against his side and eyed it, nodding his head. “Nice. I’m gonna get one of those tattooed on me one day.”

“What? A boat?”

“No, one of your pieces,” Michael laughed, shaking his head as he moved back to the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition and Alex stared at the side of his face. “Whichever one you think I should. Think about it.”

And Alex would think about it. It wasn’t even the first time he thought about it. Michael had spoken of getting one of his drawings on him before and the thought was quite possibly the most erotic thing Alex could think of which was ridiculous. There was nothing sexy about that in reality. But… Michael shirtless and having something Alex created permanently on his skin was just so good.

He went back to the drawing before he could entertain putting his tongue on it.

Michael turned up the radio before backing out of his spot and then they were on their way to Alex’s house. He put his drawing down in favor of watching out the window as Michael badly sang along to Nirvana and Beck.

Junior year was the first time Michael had come over to his house and it had felt weird to acknowledge that the person he’d spoken to nearly every day for over two years knew approximately nothing about his home life. Alex had half-assed an explanation about how his mother left and his dad was in jail, so Alex only lived with his brothers. Michael hadn’t judged him, only loudly made it clear he thought Clay was badass for stepping up when he was freshly 18 to make sure the rest of them didn’t get too screwed.

It was a few more after school hangouts after that that Michael confided that he’d been in the foster care system since he was a baby and had been in a group home for the last few years. Teenage boys were a hard sell to foster parents, apparently.

Clay had no problem giving his number to the group home to call for check-ins whenever Michael started staying over.

“Please tell me he got spicy Doritos because I‒hell yeah,” Michael said, letting himself roam freely around the kitchen. He pulled the bag of spicy nacho Doritos labeled Michael out of the pantry and ripped them open, a grin on his face. Alex could watch it all day.

“Can I steal the bar mix that you haven’t touched in, like, a month?” Flint asked, his gaze stuck on his computer where he was doing homework. His eyebrows were pulled into an angry glare at it.

“Yeah, sure, if it’s still good,” Michael answered, falling onto the couch right beside Alex and holding out the bag to him. Alex shook his head. Michael often got food obsessions and would go a month where that was all he wanted, but during bad days it was the only thing he could eat that didn’t make him lose his appetite.

Despite the fact that he was all smiles, Alex had memorized the warning signs and knew he wouldn’t be eating dinner.

“Sweet,” Flint said, sliding to the pantry to grab the remnants of Michael’s last food obsession.

One of the warning signs that Michael wasn’t doing great, despite the fact that he’d asked to come over at all and hadn’t just invited himself, was the fact that he had taken any excuse all day to be tactile Alex. He’d spent all lunch and gym with him instead of with his football buddies, he’d wanted to sit closer in the truck, he immediately sat practically on top of him on the couch.

Later that night, he sat beside him at dinner and picked at it, only eating the crunchy asparagus and the edges of the tortilla part of his quesadilla. Alex ate what he didn’t.

Michael took a shower and wore Alex’s clothes and made himself at home in Alex’s bed, all cozy and on his phone with his thumb in his mouth when Alex got out of the shower. When they’d first started spending the night together, Michael slept on the couch or on the floor. One night they’d fallen asleep in Alex’s bed during a movie and now that’s where he went each night.

Alex didn’t mind.

He shut off the lights and jumped into bed, putting on Netflix on the TV and starting up where they’d left off in their third watch-through of The Good Place. Michael scooted closer until they were touching in some way, his eyes still partially on his phone and partially on the TV.

It should’ve bothered Alex. It should’ve felt like taunting. Occasionally he did feel the need to shake him and ask him if he really wasn’t seeing how much Alex was into him. Was the staring not enough? Was the way he got a bit dizzy whenever he realized Michael was beginning to smell like Alex’s shampoo not enough? Was Alex’s eyes tracing every bead of sweat that rolled across his face like he hadn’t had water in weeks not enough? Was every single one of Michael’s other friends mentioning that they acted “kinda gay” not enough?

But mostly Alex was fine with it. Michael was safe here and comfortable and Alex wasn’t going to ruin that by wanting something more. So he would keep his hands to himself. He wouldn’t be subtle, but he wouldn’t be overbearing. He would just be Alex and hope that was alright.

“Alex,” Michael whispered, moving until his head was on Alex’s shoulder. Alex hummed in response. “Can you tell me a bedtime story about your boat?”

Alex smiled and shifted, his fingers slipping into Michael’s hair. Michael tilted his head up until they locked eyes. They were so close, just like every time Michael requested a bedtime story, as if that was the only acceptable time to be less than an inch away from each other’s face. Alex very quietly thought that their entire friendship felt like one.

“Once upon a time, there was a very loud pirate captain,” Alex started, watching as Michael’s thumb slowly started gravitating towards his mouth again, “He was old and held very strict beliefs. If you disagreed, he’d throw you overboard.”

“What a dick.”

“Mm, yeah, very. Anyway, he was always angry and his crew were like ‘shit, what if he’s lonely’ and decided they needed to get him a friend.”

“Oh no, poor lonely pirate man,” Michael said around his thumb.

“Poor lonely pirate man indeed,” Alex agreed, nodding solemnly, “So they searched high and low for anyone to be his companion. Not someone on the crew, but someone who would be his equal and separate from his employees. It was a very complicated task. They would find people who seemed good, but then the pirate captain wouldn’t like them and kick them out. It happened so many times they almost gave up. But eventually, they found an astronaut who seemed like a good fit because he was very smart and very happy.”

Michael pulled his thumb from his mouth with a loud pop, “So they really searched high, huh?”

Alex huffed a laugh and nodded, combing back his hair. His heart thudded in his chest as he stared at him, at his interested and tired eyes. God, he was so into him. Every single bit of him. Even when he needed moments like these.

“Yeah, really high. And they brought him back to the boat to meet the captain and they really, really thought he would hate him. But you know what? He didn’t. They actually got on quite well. And the captain started becoming a lot less angry,” Alex said. Michael shifted, pressing closer.

“And did the astronaut change?”

“Mhm. He got to relax too. He didn’t feel like he had to be super smart and happy to make everyone else happy anymore, he could just be himself. He could even be sad sometimes and that was okay because he had someone who liked him no matter what,” Alex explained, “He even would stop at islands to get his favorite foods.”

“Were they just best friends or were they in love?” Michael asked. Alex swallowed carefully and scanned his eyes over his face, trying to gauge what would be a better answer.

“They started as just best friends,” Alex decided, “But they fell in love. They were both. Somewhere in between.”

“Somewhere in between?”

“Yeah, like, not quite just best friends and not quite together romantically. Something different. Something special,” Alex tried. Michael watched him closely. In the background, Eleanor watched herself fall in love with Chidi for one of the hundreds of times they fell in love and Alex tried not to be too poetic about it.

“Alex,” Michael said, his hand dropping between them, “Are we somewhere in between? It feels like we are”

The question was honestly innocent but Alex stopped breathing, not knowing how to answer. He had a football player cuddling up to him in his bed. He should say no. He should save his own ass. He should keep it to himself.

But Michael was comfortable enough to cuddle him, to be babied when he needed it, to be raw and open.

So why couldn’t Alex?

“Do you wanna be?” Alex asked. Michael blinked. “Or… like… do you wanna be somewhere… not in between?”

“Like, on the other side? The romantic side?” Michael clarified. Alex nodded slowly, unsure. “Does it mean I get goodnight kisses?”

Alex let out a slow breath and laughed cautiously, “If you want them.”

“I want them,” Michael said assuredly. Alex couldn’t fucking think straight and he was just smiling stupidly at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Goodnight kisses, right here,” Michael said, tapping his lips delicately.

“Right. Okay.”

Alex moved his head just a little to give him a soft kiss, barely lasting a few seconds. He didn’t want to be too presumptuous. And, still, it was probably the best kiss he’d ever had in his life. His heart was trying to escape his chest.

He was really doing this. This was really happening.

“Did they live happily ever after, Alex?” Michael asked against his lips. Alex breathed and nodded.

“Yeah. They did.”

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #title tuesday #alexmanesss

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insidious-intent · 4 years

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13. “I’ll take you home.” - Malex :)

I apologize if you were looking for sexc times, this wanted to be written!

He finds the piece deep in the middle of the desert, pulled by its faint call. It didn’t look like anything special, just another piece of the glimmering alien spaceship, he knows it well. A deep placed certainty that grew in his bones drives him, and he is in the truck driving towards Carlsbad just as the day dawns. He might be a sailor, following the trail of a siren call, a dim instinct that keeps him moving deeper into the caverns. What he finds is a gentle bio-luminescence, making puddles of water glow pink and purple. It is the largest piece of the ship he has found so far, edges soft and curved and forever glowing. It takes him two hours to move the piece, careful of its size and worried about damaging it in the cavern, securing it the best way he can in the truck bed.

He grins in satisfaction as the piece rests on the floor of his bunker, half a day after he started, still glimmering softly in the darkness. After the setbacks of the past year, having a workable piece of the ship feels like a great leap forward, and he’s never been one to look gift horses in the mouth. It takes hours to revisit the ship, place all the pieces back in sequence, even though it feels like minutes, but the remaining pieces of the console hum back to life.

He approaches with the new piece, slowly and carefully. But all that worry was for nothing, because the ship accepts the piece as if it were a prodigal child, immediately slotting into place. The resulting hum is like a long forgotten melody, finally slotting back in his head. He thinks he cries, or at least tears up at the success, at the return of a piece of his home. He reaches out with reverent hands, wanting to feel the thrum of the console under his skin. The blinding light makes him close his eyes for a moment, a deep gong of reminder, of home, going off in his head.

With the thrum of the ship under his hands, Michael Guerin opens his eyes, and sees the universe.

***

The news calls it “an unfortunate consequence of climate change,” and the reports spread far and wide. Isobel knows none of it is true, the news is full of convenient lies people have come up with to justify the natural phenomena ravaging the state of New Mexico, and rapidly expanding outward. Four days ago she was woken up in the middle of the night by a scream she’ll likely never forget. It took her four days without sleep or food to figure out how to stop the voices in her head. Max is almost comatose next to her, his telepathic powers small and fragile in the face of the threat.

Only on the fifth day was she able to open her eyes again, the silence leaving her ears ringing as if she stepped out of Planet 7. But she knew what to do by then, and she knew how to stop it. She thanks her past self for holding onto things she was given while the efforts to bring Max back were going on, and picks up the satellite phone. She has a few calls to make and she knows where to start - Kyle Valenti.

She is done within the hour, and after making sure that Max is only sleeping, not in a coma, heads outside. There was a very high risk in stepping outside, the earthquakes and mini tornadoes had destroyed almost everything within a hundred mile radius. But no one knows that the eye of the storm lies right in Roswell, so Isobel climbs into her BMW and makes her way over to Sanders Auto & Junkyard.

The air thickens around her as she approaches the junkyard, a vacuum seal pressure on her senses, pushing her away. Isobel knows that if she were human, she would have buckled under the atmospheric pressure by now, her alien physiology the only thing keeping her intact. The air around the junkyard is not air anymore, moving like water around her, shimmering hues of pinks and yellows and purples. Her car gives out right at the edge of the junkyard, the engine crumpling and smoking from the pressure. Isobel gets out and starts walking, reaching the bunker after what feels like hours. The cover is hanging open, and Isobel thanks whoever is listening for the ladder still being there.

She sees her brother in the middle of the bunker, a glowing star in the dark. He is hovering a couple feet above the ground, but his hands are holding onto the ship that even now thrums like a hydraulic engine. Isobel knows she has only one chance, and she has had five days to make up her mind on what part she wants to play in her brother’s rescue. With a single determined breath, Isobel moves forward.

Removing Michael’s hands from the ship whites out the entire bunker, and knocks her unconscious for a whole minute. When she comes to, she can feel the earth finally settling, no more tremors attacking it. The air also feels normal again, and Isobel takes a deep and long breath. At least the world is safe now.

When she finally makes herself stand, the ship has lost the deep thrum, but is still glowing, and unfortunately so is Michael.

“Michael?” she asks, knowing she may not get an answer.

“Princess,” the legion of voices inside Michael responds, “we are honored to meet you.”

Isobel chokes back her tears, she doesn’t have time to panic. “Let Michael go,” she says, keeping her voice as steady as she can.

“He is not a prisoner.”

Isobel tries to not let her frustration show. “You can’t have him, he is not yours to keep.”

The legion laughs, the voice cracking every light bulb in the bunker.

But Isobel isn’t worried, because she always has a plan.

***

Michael’s having an incredible day. The ship is complete and running and both Max and Isobel are almost ready. The skies look clear, the air is crisp and refreshing. All around him, Michael’s friends and family join in to see them one last time. The mood is festive, Max and Isobel and him easily mingling, getting hugs and kisses, no one is unhappy that the three of them finally get to go home.

Liz and Rosa are at the door, holding a big wrapped box out to Michael. Liz hugs him tight, but Rosa also adds a punch to his shoulder after her hug. “This is expensive booze, so hold onto it!” she says, and Michael only laughs. Rosa is a good friend.

He knows something is missing, but can’t tell what. He looks around him, at all the smiling faces, loud cheerful yells and shouts of his friends and family. He has everything, right?

“Guerin,” a voice says behind him, and Michael freezes. The voice is familiar, he knows it, but he can’t remember. He should remember.

He turns slowly, and looks into the face of the man he loves. Has always loved. Will forever love.

“Alex.”

“Hi Guerin,” Alex says.

Michael grins, “Alex you made it!”

Michael smiles and walks towards Alex, ignoring the way the party has gone quiet and still, and he can’t hear his ship anymore.

Michael’s mom steps in front of him, stopping him from reaching Alex. “Michael, stop. You need to go home.”

Michael looks at his mom and smiles reassuringly. “I’m going home, mom. Alex is my home.”

His mother is frowning now, “no Michael. You don’t belong here.” She starts tugging at his arm, trying to pull him back towards the ship.

Alex stands there, looking at Michael, eyes full of love. “Michael, come back to me.”

Michael throws off his mother’s arm and walks forward again, smiling at seeing the love of his life in front of him. “Alex,” he whispers, heart full of joy.

Alex smiles and holds his arms open, “Come on Guerin,” he whispers, that soft smile still on his face. “I’ll take you home,” he says before kissing Michael.

***

In the bunker, Isobel cries. Alex is on the ground, still holding Michael, his lips still on Michael’s.

Michael finally opens his eyes.

Send me a prompt!

#responses #alexmanesss #my fic #my writing #inigo chats #roswell new mexico #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #isobel evans #idk what this is #but I saw it in my head #and had to share #I hope you like it!

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