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notsowrites · 3 years

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Untitled 3x08 Malex Coda #3

Last one before tonight! Why I get inspired to write about these two first thing in the morning when I’m drinking my coffee is beyond me, but here’s some more soft Malex with a bit of fluff.

Enjoy! <3

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They head back inside not long after, the cold winter air nipping at Alex's skin. Maria is sitting up near the pool tables, cell phone pressed to her ear, and Alex focuses on the smile on her face, the absolute happiness he can see radiating off her. She looks up as they walk in, waving at them, but their presence is not enough to get her to end the call.

Michael is already back at the bar, leaning against it, knocking shoulders with Isobel, Liz sitting just on her other side. There's a bottle of wine between them, and two half-filled glasses.

"She's on the phone with your brother," Liz supplies as he joins them.

He nods. It's not new, this thing between his brother and Maria. But the two of them acting on the looks that he's known they've shared since high school certainly is.

Sliding into the open seat to Michael's right is easy enough, and it does wonders to get the weight off his hip for now. His fingers dig into the muscle of his leg, gently massaging it as he watches Michael slide another beer in front of him.

"You okay?"

Michael's voice is quiet, almost a whisper in the already quiet bar. The only other people here are people he loves, people he trusts. He nods.

"Just sore."

He goes for honesty, which seems to be the theme of the day for them, and watches as Michael's eyes dart to his leg and further down to where his prosthetic is beneath his jeans. There's nothing he can do right now, not until he's home and can take it off, remove the lining, and possibly soak in the bathtub to ease the tension in it. But that can wait, because being here, with the people he loves and cares about is more important.

It's the most important thing.

"We can leave," Michael replies, as if reading his thoughts, but Alex reaches out, slipping his hand into Michael's, and shaking his head.

Liz speaks up first, her eyes going from Michael to him, and back again. "You don't have to stay. Max is safe, thanks to you. We should take the win and enjoy tonight."

The fight leaves him at Liz's words, and he acquiesces, sliding off the stool, and stretching his leg, one hand on the back of the bar stool for balance. He can feel Michael's eyes on him, watching him, and for once he loves how it feels. It's so easy to reach out, to grab Michael's hand in his own and give it a reassuring squeeze, before he crosses the floor towards Maria.

"So your I guess it's our time vibes were only a couple weeks off, eh?" He hears Isobel ask behind him, but doesn't turn around to look at how Michael reacts, only hearing Liz's shocked gasp instead.

"Greg, hold on, hold on, Alex is here-" Maria turns towards him, pulling the phone away from her ear and wrapping her arms around him. He stumbles a bit, expecting the weight but miscalculating for how tired he is. She immediately pulls back, looking him up and down, assessing.

He presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm fine, just tired. Michael and I are heading out, but I didn't want to leave without telling you."

She raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'll call you tomorrow." He feels his cheeks go warm, and shifts on his feet, not out of the soreness in his hip this time.

"You better," Maria laughs as she puts the phone back up to her ear, and Alex can immediately hear his brother, just can't make out the words. He watches as Maria smiles, a laugh escaping her lips as she looks back at him.

"Greg says it's about damn time."

With a bit of an eyeroll, he leaves the two of them to their conversation and turns back to the bar, surprised to find Michael is standing near the doorway. There's a feeling that blossoms in his chest, seeing Michael standing there, waiting, for him. And after spending the day together, Alex isn't ready for it to end.

"Can you take me home?"

The car ride is quiet, but not awkward. Alex pushes himself up against the passenger door, and shifts himself so he's staring at Michael as he drives. Something he hasn't done since they were teenagers when they'd get in Michael's truck and drive out to the desert - the only way after the toolshed they could find some time for themselves.

Michael's hat is sitting on the seat between them, and Alex brushes his fingers along the rim. He loves the cowboy look, even if it covers up Michael's curls. Because he really is in love with Michael Guerin any way you slice it.

His house is on a quiet side street outside town, the yard lights on thanks to their automatic timer, illuminating the terrace and the front door. He and Maria had strung them up one Saturday afternoon a few weeks after he'd bought the house, her claiming it needed some ambiance. She'd been the one to help him pick out the patio furniture, and start making the house into some place he could call home.

Michael pulls the truck into the driveway next to his SUV, and Alex reaches for the door handle, before he realizes the engine is idling.

Does he want Michael to leave? He doesn't know. Today was a whirlwind for them - working together, talking, and Michael kissing him. As he'd pressed his face into Michael's shoulder earlier, he'd realized how much he missed this - missed Michael. There had always been something about the way it felt around him, when they weren't fighting, when they had a moment of quiet - an unexplainable calm that would fall over him. For the first time in years, he'd felt it again that morning, and then again later in the truck when Michael had touched his cheek.

He wouldn't label it an understanding, because it felt much deeper than that.

"Michael?"

"Yeah?"

But Michael makes no move to turn off the engine, so Alex tugs on that courage he'd used all day to tell Michael what he wanted. He'd never felt the need to put into words his every day actions - and perhaps part of that was his years in the Air Force, and the work he'd done that required a level of secrecy. But keeping Michael out of the loop recently hadn't done them, or their relationship, any favors. And he hated to see Michael so angry at him.

"Shut the engine off and come inside."

He watches Michael turn to him, eyes soft and beautiful, and Alex doesn't know sometimes, what to do with the way Michael makes him feel. He never has. If he was younger, if he was more agile than he is these days, he'd climb over onto Michael's lap and kiss him here in the truck. So instead he reaches over the cowboy hat, and slips his fingers under Michael's, tightening his grip.

"You sure?"

Alex nods.

But Michael's hesitance doesn't end there, and follows him into the house. Alex coaxes him out of his jacket, his boots, and watches as he slowly walks into the living room, glancing around as if unsure of himself. And Michael has been here before, Michael's been here a lot over the years.

"You got rid of the cameras," he says, nodding up where the one above his bedroom door used to be.

The cameras were something he'd installed under the belief that he couldn't trust his father. There had always been that residual fear he would break in and try something to get one up on Alex. So the cameras had made him feel like he was being proactive, like his father couldn't sneak up on him if he had a system in place.

"Yeah, don't need them anymore." He doesn't want to talk about his dad. Not now. It's not that he wants to brush it under the rug and never speak of it, because he knows there are a lot of things they need to talk about. But Liz's words echo in his mind about taking the win today for what it is, and doing that means not focusing on something like his father.

"That's good," Michael says, his voice low, and Alex doesn't move, just stands still as Michael walks over to him, a smile pushing up on his lips. He feels Michael's hands on his face, palms against his cheeks and lets Michael kiss him.

He feels the scratch of Michael's beard and the soft press of his lips and Alex presses forward just a little, his hands moving to Michael's hips, bracing himself. The kiss is slow and gentle, and Alex feels like he's falling. There's no rush in either of their actions, Michael's fingertips lightly scratching at the nape of his neck, their noses bumping, and their foreheads end up pressed together as their lips separate.

"I want-" He pauses, pushing back just far enough so he can look up at Michael. He doesn't want to not be looking at him when he speaks. But he thinks of Michael's reluctance to come inside, and he thinks of the words Michael had once expressed to him about going where Alex wants, and he needs to make sure this is what Michael wants too. "Will you stay the night?"

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In the morning, he wakes up tangled up in Michael. There's no panic that sets in, no worry about one of them leaving, even if they haven't talked about the future yet. Because there's time for that now. And Alex knows, believes, they both want one together.

He opens his eyes to find Michael already awake, eyes open and watching him. It should be creepy, but instead all Alex feels is love.

"Morning," Michael says, leaning in and gently kissing his lips.

"Been awake long?"

Michael shakes his head. "I've never watched you sleep before. You always-" He cuts himself off and Alex can fill in the rest himself. He knows this story too.

Last night had been different though, from anything they'd ever done in the past. It felt like a new beginning for them, the way the whole day had. Michael had drawn the bath while Alex had gone through his nightly routine, finally getting the chance to remove his prosthetic. And as Alex had laid back in the tub, letting the hot water soothe his sore muscles, Michael had sat on the floor next to the tub, resting his head on his arm, and they'd just… talked.

Talked in a way they never had before. Alex had listened as Michael had finally told him everything he'd learned from Jones - from the white lies to the discovery of his own origins. He'd been unable to stop himself from taking Michael's hand as he talked about his mother, the way he'd started to doubt his own feelings about her, and the things she had done. Most shocking of all was when Michael asked to show him something, and Alex had just nodded before he was watching as Michael pulled a lighter out of his jeans and held the flame to the skin of his palm.

Instinct had him snatching Michael's hand, pulling it away from the flame - but his skin was perfect. The flame hadn't harmed him.

"I want to make you breakfast," Michael says instead.

Alex laughs, immediately burying his face into Michael's shoulder, because while a great idea, he doesn't exactly keep a fully stocked kitchen. Especially since he's a terrible cook himself, and restocking the fridge after his year spent cleaning up Project Shepherd messes hasn't been a huge priority.

"I'd like that except…" he lets his voice trail off, but leans up and kisses Michael. "I'm not sure there's much in the fridge to cook with."

Michael shakes his head, laughing, and Alex kisses him again, pulling himself up so he's leaning over Michael, his fingers stroking Michael's curls, gently tugging on the ends and watching as they spring back into place.

"Another time then."

Alex leans forward, their lips almost touching as he smiles. Because another time is a future they now have together. It's tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. "Tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"I don't want - I meant what I said all those months ago. About starting over. And-" He pauses, thinking about every night he's spent with Michael that ended with one of them leaving, the other never staying. "We've never had breakfast before."

They trade lazy kisses, neither of them able to stop smiling, and it's slow and perfect, and Alex thinks he could stay wrapped up in Michael Guerin forever. But he gets an idea, and it's a good one. And he knows Michael will be okay with it, that Michael will agree to it. Because now he knows Michael feels the same, that Michael wants the same things for them.

"Let's go to the Crashdown," he says against Michael's lips.

Michael pushes back, not away but enough so he's looking at Alex. And there's a flicker of something on his eyes, an old hurt resurfacing that Alex can see. Another thing they need to talk about.

"Like a date?"

Alex rolls his eyes, but kisses Michael again. "Like a date. Like two people having breakfast. I just - I want to do these things with you. I want us to be able to do these things."

"Okay, Manes," Michael replies, pushing up quickly and kissing Alex, like he can't get enough. "Let's go have pancakes."

#roswell new mexico #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex fic #notso writes fanfic #ummm have some soft malex this morning #before the episode tonight #because my brain has been nonstop

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lambourngb · 3 years

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a skeleton of something more [2/6]

previously here. malex wip fic. a short serial leading up the premiere.

spoilers for the trailer and promo, will be instantly AU. If I’m going to the trouble of writing a malex fix-it for the season 3 opener, why not fix 2x13 too?

**** THEN ****

After Alex closed Tripp’s journal, he met Michael’s gaze across the table at the Crashdown.

His golden-brown eyes were heavy with pain, the reminder of how his mother’s story had ended was still fresh between them despite the span of months since the fiery end of Caulfield. What had resulted in being the fiery end of them, even though Alex hadn’t known it at the time. The look of sleeplessness in Michael’s face reminded Alex, that outside of this small piece of Nora, he had the weight of Maria still in the hospital recovering from the pathogen Flint had released. The press of the Deep Sky ring in his pocket warred with the hesitation to place one more burden on Michael, would the abacus of their fragile friendship balance out?

He flashed to that last argument in Michael’s bunker, a disaster of his own making, thinking he could believe in his father, but thankfully harm was averted at Crashcon. That recent memory was motive enough for Alex to decide. Whatever happened next, he needed Michael on the same page with him.

As Isobel moved to leave the table, explaining to Michael that she needed to check on Max, Alex held Michael’s gaze deliberately. Then he folded his fingers down, until the last three fanned out in a downward W.

“After what happened with Maria, maybe you should come with me, Michael. You can help me shake some sense into Max,” Alex heard, tuning back into Isobel’s voice. Her eyes moved back and forth between them, a crease of suspicion wrinkling her upturned nose, as she stopped on him. “It’ll be a good distraction.”

Without looking at Isobel, Michael’s eyes remained trained on Alex’s hand. “No, thanks, I’m good here. I’ve had my fill of stubborn ass people who don’t want to listen to sensible advice from me, so I’ll catch up with you later, Isobel.”

She made a dismissive huff but did not argue, leaving with the barest semblance of a polite goodbye to Alex, but that was typical Isobel Evans. Michael waited until his sister was on the other side of the door, before speaking quietly, his gaze finally moving up from Alex’s hands to his face. “I haven’t seen you flash that sign to me in years.”

“Glad to know you haven’t forgotten it.”

“You, making the ‘wait for me, I want you now’ signal? Nah, that’s been burned into my brain over the years.” Michael said it with a faint trace of bitterness. “I guess news travels fast, Maria only dumped my ass this morning.”

Alex winced and looked down, swallowing the surprise and spark of hope that welled in his throat at that disclosure. It was better to concentrate on the unique talent he had of stepping on landmines around Michael, than wonder about what had happened with Maria. It looked like he was still good at causing harm without intention, judging by the stung bite in Michael’s voice. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Michael cut off his apology firmly with a wave of his hand, calling a time-out. Alex waited, his teeth pressed into his lower lip as Michael rubbed his eyes with a weary half-smile. “I’m being an asshole right now, and that’s not fair to take it out on you. It’s been a shitty day already, and — anyway, … you definitely know how to get my attention, Alex.” He tilted his head, self-deprecation on his face, “for better or worse, you’ve always been good at that.”

It had been the sign they had developed whenever their paths had crossed over the years while Alex had been on leave in Roswell, but it had started that summer after high school. After Michael’s hand had healed poorly from Jesse, the last three fingers had been left frozen in a claw, it had been a shared fuck-you to his dad to use it to form their own secret communication. A three-fingered W, turned upward meant it wasn’t a good time, and he would find Michael later; turned downward, well, that meant it was safe to approach him, and it had often ended in a hurried blowjob in his car. Perhaps he should have used more care in using it now, but Michael wasn’t the only one running on the fumes of insomnia and stress. “Sorry, I needed to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave with Isobel-”

“It’s fine, really. It’s not a bad memory either, remembering that we had our little secret language.” Michael wiggled his fingers in reassurance, his left hand still wrapped with a bandanna. “I can make that signal a hell of a lot easier now, too. But anyway, what did you need?”

There was still a voice inside Alex’s head that said ‘you’, no matter how long it had been. He shoved that down deep, along with his curiosity about Maria, and concentrated on his purpose. “Your advice on something, and then if it’s not too much to ask, your help.”

“Anything.”

Alex blinked, nonplussed by the easy acceptance.

Michael gestured encouragingly, “seriously, anything, just tell me what’s going on because the way you’re hemming and hawing, it is freaking me out.” Suddenly, all expression washed out of Michael’s face as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Did you get deployed or something?”

“Not exactly, not how you’re thinking,” he winced at the earned glare from Michael as he continued to stall while the words still tripped and fumbled around his mouth, heedless to the mounting frustration between them both. He sighed, and regrouped. Pushing the closed journal aside, Alex dug into his pocket and laid the signet ring on the table before Michael. “Let me start at the beginning, I found this in my dad’s things.”

“Jesse never seemed like a jewelry kind of guy to me.” Michael picked up the ring, examining it closely with a sarcastic smirk. “Other than parading around town with that wedding ring, when everyone knows your mom left him back during the Bush years, Dubya that is.”

“My father is all, was all, about appearances.” Alex placed the photo of the group on the table, sliding it over to him. “That ring marked his membership in this paramilitary group called Deep Sky. Every man in that photo worked at Caulfield, at one time or another.” He tapped his finger over the face of his father, then moved it to the right. “That’s my dad, and that is Ricky Long.”

Michael frowned, pulling the picture closer to squint at the faces. “Wyatt’s dad?”

“No, Forrest’s.”

“Nazi guy? Seriously?” He rubbed at his chin, the stubble longer than usual painting his jawline. Alex dragged his eyes away with effort as Michael considered that information. There was a reluctant understanding in his eyes, having recalled that Forrest Long wasn’t just ‘Nazi Guy’ to Alex, but someone who had expressed interest in Alex. Personal interest. “I guess that’s something you guys have in common then, dirtbag dads.”

He didn’t look thrilled to admit that to Alex, but it was a mark of how far they had both come as friends that Michael had said it anyway regardless. It was kind of him. It was the same type of empathy Alex had extended toward Michael, when he had expressed interest in Maria. Cut open, bleeding under his skin from all the ways he had squandered his own chances, he had said something similar to Michael once upon a time. That was what love was all about. Then he had kept saying it, until he believed it most days because wanting Michael to be happy was the easier ask.

It was a gracious sentiment that was entirely wasted by Michael when it came to Forrest Long.

“It would be, uh, something to bond over, if I hadn’t noticed that Forrest wears the same ring now.”

Michael’s eyes sharpened. “Family heirloom or do you think he worked at Caulfield?”

“I don’t know, but he is an ex-Army vet.” Alex tapped the photo of the members gathered together, “That was part of what I’ve been looking into, identifying everyone who worked at Caulfield right until the end. As for Deep Sky, I don’t know if it’s military service, Caulfield, or a family legacy that ties every member together, I just know that Dad kept in touch with those who were involved at the prison.”

“Makes sense, Jesse was able to get a hold of the atomizer and pathogen that Charlie developed from somewhere. For all of his strutting around at Crashcon with a uniform on, that didn’t look like it was an official use of government property.”

“Right, it definitely wasn’t, and before you tell me to leave it alone-” Alex began, remembering Michael’s response to the investigation into 1947. He had considered Alex’s actions back then to be an act of futility, something that could only hurt by being revisited. The past being the past, unable to be altered.

This time Michael cut him off, “No, I was wrong about that. I, um, I finally realized that just because I don’t see you connected to that place or the rest of your family, doesn’t mean you don’t. And while I wish that you didn’t, Alex, if digging into this gives you some sort of peace over it, then do it.”

Alex looked down, feeling the weight of relief that Michael understood. After his father’s body had been removed, after the questions and lies had been spun, he had spent the entire night sleepless over having been made into an effective weapon to force Michael’s compliance. Helena had known where all the weak spots were thanks to Flint, and had armed herself with a depowering agent. Once Flint was recovered, there was nothing stopping him from employing a similar tactic in the future.

“If anyone’s going to destroy me, it might as well be you.” Michael had once declared with a bold carelessness that had infuriated and terrified Alex at the time, but that was nothing compared to now having a lived experience to back it up. His mind had easily used the memory of Maria’s collapse after the faintest exposure at the Crashcon and had exchanged her with Michael, being torn apart molecule by molecule, by an invisible threat.

Give him an enemy that he could see any day, especially one that bled.

“I’ve been fighting so long, I don’t know what peace looks like anymore.” Alex held out his hand for the ring, and Michael gently laid it in his palm, brushing his fingertips over Alex’s skin. A lifetime of controlling himself kept the reaction off his face as he rubbed his thumb over the raised emblem of Deep Sky. “But I have learned recently that when something seems too good to be true, it is.”

Neither of them mentioned Jesse and his performance from the last few months, but Michael frowned again, “Wait a second, you think Forrest targeted you on purpose?”

“A member of a secret paramilitary organization just happens to ask me out after I was involved in the destruction of Caulfield? You really think that’s a coincidence?” Alex raised his eyebrow skeptically at Michael, before looking out the window to watch the pedestrians on the street.

“I think you’re the hottest guy in Roswell, so I’m not surprised he asked you out.” Michael flushed a little when Alex turned back to stare at him in surprise over the flattering comment. “Seriously, you’re a catch, but I will agree, it’s not a good look that he’s got that ring. But maybe it’s crap he wears because of his dad, and he’s got no idea he’s parading around?”

“You’re being awfully generous.”

“Isn’t that what you want? Because last time I checked, you were the one telling me that I should have faith in people, even if they give me no reason to.” Michael flattened his hands on the table, drawing Alex’s attention to the bandanna on his hand again. That damn fight kept echoing between them to Alex’s dismay, but Michael didn’t let him linger over it, “While I stand by what I said about Jesse, ‘cause he messes us both up, all I know about Forrest Long is that he is way too interested in Nazi history and he has good taste in guys.” Michael wetted his lips, nervously to tack on, “I also know that I trust you, and your instincts, so if you say there’s something not right about him, then I believe you.”

“There’s something not right about him,” Alex repeated seriously.

“Then I believe you, so what do you need me to do?”

“He wants to get close to me for some reason, probably related to what I know about aliens, so I’m going to let him. And I need you to back me up in case something goes wrong, and maybe use that lock pick you have in your brain?” Alex waited until Michael nodded in agreement, feeling the swell of gratitude at his support. Anyone else would probably think he was being paranoid, or that this was a delayed reaction to his father trying to kill them, but Michael, for all of his previous counter-arguments, had never truly believed in the good of humanity. Maybe in a few days, Alex would feel guilty in relying on that. Maybe in a few days, his suspicions about Forrest would be eliminated.

“He’s involved in running the open mike night at the Wild Pony with Maria, so I thought maybe I could perform a song or something? He drives a Prius, and while he’s listening to me sing, you could slip out mid-song and insert this into the code reader of his car.”

On the table was a small device that mimicked a thumb drive, small and black. It was the type of technology that Alex had used in the Air Force, tracking terrorists abroad. It had taken a fair amount of searching to purchase the equivalent stateside to have on hand. Michael picked it up curiously, turning over his hands.

“It’s designed to download the GPS history of his car,” Alex explained, before rubbing the back of his head in thought. “That’s how I uncovered what my dad was up to, first by tracking his movements. If I let Forrest take me home, I can gain access to his laptop and phone.”

Michael furrowed his brow in concern, “You’re really willing to go that far? And what if he is involved in something shady, what then?”

“My father and brother both used me to get to you, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again and if it means playing along with this guy, letting him lead me to the members of Deep Sky? Then I will.” If anything, his words only deepened the concern on Michael’s face, but Alex had been committed for a long time. Since the red level threat. Since the short ride to the recruitment office. Maybe as far back as his guitar going missing in the music room.

“I’ve slept with guys for worse reasons.”

CONTINUED HERE

#Malex #roswell new mexico #malex fic #alex goes undercover #not forrest long friendly #getting back together #Season 3 speculation

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rileychester · 3 years

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I will admit, I don’t trust the CW as far as I can throw them. And since I just had knee surgery that’s not very far. Though I know they will go where the money and audience wants for the most part because they are after all a business.

But I do have some faith in Chris, (the cast and crew seem a lot happier under his leadership and he’s is a big ole romantic. Also of course faith in Tyler and faith in Vlamis especially. I mean dear lord Vlamis is more giddy than I have seen him in a long time, so I’m sure Malex is gonna happen.

I also got to admit, I’m enjoying seeing their singular storylines on their own and them both working on some shit that should have been dealt with already, but that was back in the dark times. Like I am enjoying both of the boys off on their own, I really hope that Alex’s storyline with DS is like RNM MIB cause that could be interesting.

I am really looking forward to their friendship moments because I just love watching Vlamburn bounce off each other in scenes. Their friendship and care for each other shines through. The boys need to figure out where they fit together before jumping into a relationship. Which in many ways neither are ready for. And they both need to have some conversations about some crap that went down.

It’s just I wish we saw a connection with them, even without seeing them in scenes together. Like with Echo, there is still the connection. You can still feel and see it, even though they aren’t together, there is an ever flowing current there. But for me, where Echo is a nice stream of connection together, Malex is kinda like a little trickle in the first part of the season.

Like Alex or Michael looking at something that is a memory tied to them in a longing way. Or having them being asked about each other by friends and family. Or them bringing the other up and talking about what they feel for each other or what they want from the relationship.

Or to see people encouraging a relationship because it’s clear there is something cosmic there and should be together. I mean there was what one scene with Isobel mentioning Alex to Michael in ep 1, and Maria’s joke, but I think that was it. Maybe having one staring at their phone wanting to call or text, but can’t make the move. Or perhaps Michael picks up the guitar to play only for him to put it back down again.

The little bits add up.

I get they are off on their own things and they should. And I get with Covid there was some dancing around the boys probably filming together. Because they were probably being used elsewhere. That scene they had together might have been short, but it was still strong and showing that they still have it between them. I also know that Malex will be heavy in the second half of the season. But honestly to me the Malex foundation feels a bit weak, though I’m sure more bricks are coming soon.

#malex #alex x michael #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico

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queenquid · 3 years

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Divorce

Please do not read / interact with this unless you're in malex's genshin server. This is a joke between friends.

As you stared down at the official form, you briefly wondered if you were making a mistake. Maybe, Diluc didn't want this..? You glanced at him and saw his face, unmoving, stoic. Your heart broke again. He didn't care if you stayed or left. He didn't love you the way you needed. You signed it. You were legally divorced.

___________

6 MONTHS LATER

"Baby...... open pleas.e. the doooorrrrr! I need you!" Sighing, you made your way to the front door where Diluc was once again drunkenly knocking.

"What do you want, Diluc?" You could hear him slump against the door.

"Come back to me... we need a.. no you I mean you're m.." You didn't hear the rest as he mumbled but you assumed it was the same as what crap he'd been spouting the past several months. You were shocked the first time you saw him drunk, and were deeply worried. However, it just kept getting worse and now he was at your door around this time almost every night. In the past, you might have relished his attention, even like this, but you were looking for something real. You didn't want to be with someone who only looked for you when he was drunk. He never contacted you during the day, never looked for you, never even apologized. You assumed he was embarrassed or angry, but you didn't have the energy to care anymore. You'd spent so many years trying to pry open his shell that you weren't really sure he had one. That's why you'd left him. Other people in Mondstadt thought you were crazy. Leaving Master Diluc, leaving his money, his stature, just because you didn't feel loved. People scoffed, mocked you, whispered as you walked by. But even though he wasn't quiet, no-one ever mocked Diluc for drunkenly harrassing you. They murmured how callous you were, how cruel, to still be cold to him.

You flung open the door and Diluc tumbled to the floor. He was completely passed out. After dragging him to your couch and tucking him in with a blanket, you broke down and started crying over him.

"Please stop drinking Diluc... don't do this to yourself anymore..." You fell asleep holding his hand, sitting on the floor beside him. He was gone when you woke up.

___________

ONE YEAR LATER

"Hello y/n. It's nice to see you again." Startled, you turned around and saw your ex-husband Diluc standing behind you in the market.

"Diluc, Hi. It's good to see you!" He was standing so far away from you, you had to raise your voice a bit. He stood awkwardly for a moment before nodding his head and starting to walk away.

"Diluc." He stopped immediately at your voice and turned back to you.

"I just wanted to say... I heard that you stopped drinking. I'm really proud of you." He stared at you so intensely that you wondered if you had said something weird.

"Thank you. I... didn't want to worry anyone anymore." He looked at you with that strange look on his face again, but turned away again and briskly walked off. 'He was asleep that night, wasn't he? Did he hear me crying for him? He never says anything. I'm not a mind reader!' Irritated, you threw some more vegetables in your basket and tried to forget the encounter. Behind you, Diluc turned back and watched you for a few minutes more.

____________

5 YEARS LATER

"Diluc, hi!" Diluc, your ex-husband, turned as you stood in the doorway of the Cat's Tail. You were surprised to see him in any bar, let alone a different one from his own.

"What, um, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a meeting about distribution, and you?" You paused to answer, but before you could your fiancee Arthur walked up.

"Oh, Master Diluc, it's very nice to meet you!" You watched Diluc's face completely slacken and he stared blankly.

"Ah, Diluc, um, this is my fiancee, Arthur." There was a long pause before Diluc gave a short nod, and quietly walked out of the bar. You sighed heavily and massaged your temple.

"Sorry, Arthur, I didn't think he'd ever be in here."

"It's ok, my love, he would have found out eventually." You nodded listlessly, before stroking your stomach. You thought again, about Diluc, the enigmatic hero of Mondstadt, someone you used to love deeply and knew better than anyone. But still not enough. You allowed yourself to wonder what a baby between you and Diluc would've looked like. Perhaps it would've had his brilliant red hair. A pang in your heart forces you to stop the train of thought, and putting a smile on your face, you head to the nearest table with Arthur.

_____________

10 YEARS LATER

"Y/n. Nice to see you." You turn and face Diluc. You noted the light greys beginning to form at his temples and think of your own grey streaks.

"Diluc, it's been some time! How are you doing?" The two of you chatted aimlessly for a few minutes. He was still the same man you met and fell in love with all those years ago, you thought. And the same man you divorced.

"Would you like to get a drink?" Diluc asked, surprising you. You found yourself nodding and the two of you moved towards his bar without a word. The two of you relaxed together, you sipping a wine and Diluc, sipping an apple cider (non-alcoholic, he'd made sure to clarify).

"How are your children?"

"Oh they're just fine, running about crazily." There was a pause as the two of you shifted, your history running between you. The memories of Diluc posing a question about children to you. The image of children with his hair and your eyes floated towards you, but you ignored it (as usual).

"Y/n."

"Diluc."

"I am... I am sorry. For not being able to be with you the way you needed. For everything that came after. For not giving you the life you deserved." The words shocked you to your core and you just gaped at him.

"I know that you are married, but I have to tell you this. I miss you. I never stopped loving you. I don't expect anything to come of this, but I just... I needed you to know." You unexpectedly felt tears begin to swirl. Diluc was looking at you with the saddest eyes you'd ever seen, as if he wanted to peer into your mind, no, heart.

"D-Diluc.. I..." He nodded, smiling painfully at you.

"I understand." You reached across the table and held his hand for a long moment, letting the sun set. Then you stood and walked home to your family, not glancing behind as you desperately wanted to. The tears fell down your cheeks, but as you reached your door, you wiped your face clean and walked in with a big smile.

"Mama! Yay!" The chatter of your children and husband filled your little house with warmth and you let yourself forget the painful conversation with the man that you still loved.

_____________

shoutout to genshin server for thinking this is funny enough to read.

ok anyway im kermitting if anyone i know in real life reads this so

#if you arent in malex's genshin server please DO NOT interact #i am serious this is only meant for friends and i dont want it getting around

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adiwriting · 3 years

Note

Hey there! I saw your reblog of the 2x04 gifset and I noticed you said that season 2 Alex started off strong in the hashtags. Just curious what you think about season 2 Alex overall. I feel like from that point onward everything went downhill, including Malex.

What an excellent question.

I am not sure I can put my thoughts on this clearly into words, but I will try. I will start out by making it clear that I do understand that healing and growth are not linear. I know that there are ups and downs with any healing process. I would expect Alex’s journey to be filled with several bumps in the road.

That being said... S2 wasn’t filled with bumps in the road. It was filled with moments where Alex was there, saying lines, to further along the plot with little regard for his character or characterization.

In most of S1, it is easy to see who Alex is as a character. I don’t like all of his decisions, but I understand them and I vibed with the story they were telling me. Here was a guy that had experienced a lot of trauma in his life and was struggling with how to take what he wanted for himself when his every instinct is to run and protect himself. I loved seeing him stand up to Jesse. I enjoyed having a narrative that was about overcoming abuse and finding inner strength and not about the need to forgive. Then S2 happened and it started out pretty strong for Alex. We saw him coming to terms with his family’s involvement in the torture of Michael’s family. We saw him struggling with the line between how to help and be a friend and how much was too much for Michael. We saw some self awareness that showed he’d been working on himself like we were given the impression in the S1 finale he would do.

And then suddenly, I just lost Alex. The Alex I had fallen in love with. His story became about being whatever the plot needed him to be. My spiteful, angry, paranoid Alex was falling for his dad’s “I’ve changed” act (and yes, I know that is part of a cycle too and perhaps realistic, but it wasn’t a journey I wanted to be on and I still argue not the Alex they introduced us to in S1). They had him taking back the ship piece that he’d given Michael is a true moment of growth and negated the entire beauty of that scene where he said he wouldn’t be another Manes man standing in Michael’s way. And then they just paired him with Forrest as if Forrest was going to be the thing that helped Alex evolve. As if Alex’s issues aren’t internal and his song about needing to fight his battle alone but that he was fighting for Michael was a joke because the real answer here was “get Alex a boyfriend that’s gay yoda.”

I love Alex. S1 Alex was truly amazing. I think if you look back on my fic, one of the first pieces I wrote that had meaning was focused entirely on Alex’s character and his healing. But the longer I sit with S2, the less I recognize the Alex I loved. Is it possible that Alex could “evolve” into the kind of man that hands out forgiveness and redemption arcs to people like it’s candy? Sure. Is that the story I want or signed up for when I started shipping Malex in S1? Nope. I like seeing Alex angry at his family. I liked them allowing him to heal AND be angry at his abuser. I liked the idea of found family for him. That was a story and character I could vibe with and be inspired to write for. S2 Alex just wasn’t for me. And I guess that’s fine. It’s clear S2 Alex vibed with others. But there is a reason most of my creative works focus around S1 timeline or a far distant ambiguous future Malex and avoid S2 like the plague. I don’t understand s2 Alex as a character. I can’t get into his headspace and understand the choices he made. And the only way I can make sense of it is to say “well, he said/did that because the plot demanded it.”

And you know what? I love Alex enough to want more for him than what we got. (And no, that doesn’t mean more screentime or more plots. It means more consistency in his characterization and more care in the words they are putting in his mouth).

#Rambling #I'm 99% sure this doesn't even make sense or have any coherent thoughts #sorry nonnie #you got all my word vomit #Roswell nm #discourse #Alex Manes #Anonymous

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gra-sonas · 3 years

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Am I crazy in being scared that with so many new characters, many of the characters that we love will not get the focus that they should? They already have a big cast and so many of their stories are not told (for example, Alex's past in the military)...I fear that there will be many storylines and all of them will not be well developed (like s2)...I really hope I'm wrong...

Not crazy, nonnie, no.

Let’s break down what we know (hahahahahahahaha 😒) about S3 so far:

There were some S3 interviews with CAM after the S2 finale, but since she’s no longer part of the show, and she herself said that the S3 outline changed “a lot” after her departure, anything she said in those interviews (and that wasn’t all that much to begin with), could no longer be valid information.

Time jump? Will probably happen, but we don’t know for sure.

Forlex? Could happen (for how long/to which extent, who the fuck knows), or maybe not??

Echo? Will definitelylikely get back together (probably in 3x02 or so, can’t keep the straights apart for too long...), we just don’t know when.

Happier times for Malex? HAHAHA, as if Could happen. OR NOT. Who knows. NOT US!

WE ARE JON SNOW! ¯\_(°~°)_/¯

The few things we (kinda) know about S3 so far:

It’s likely the season will start with Liz (still) in LA (where she’ll meet one of the new guys, Heath), but it’s fairly certain she’ll return to Roswell early in S3

It’s likely the Pod Squad will have to deal with Mr. Jones.

we know a few things about 4 new guest characters - 3 of them white, and at least Jordan Bernhardt (mayor’s son) and the new Sheriff, Brooke Taylor (WHAT ABOUT MICHELLE VALENTI?????) seem kinda shady. Edgar/Eduardo sounds like he could be a link to Deep Sky or maybe the Alighting?

going by Dylan’s extended stay in Santa Fe, it seems like Wyatt Long could have a larger arc this season

we know that Christian(Forrest) filmed at least one episode (could be more but we don’t know for certain)

Tanner(Gregory) is currently/was recently in Santa Fe to film a second episode.

It doesn’t look like Justina (Steph)’s been in Santa Fe yet, since they’re already filming 3x04 or 3x05 (we don’t even know that for sure), it’s possible she won’t return for S3 at all.

We don’t know whether Riley(Jenna)'s been in Santa Fe yet (production of Hightown S2 recently started, maybe she’s already been in Santa Fe and filmed some scenes, but we have no confirmation about that, it’s just as likely that she hasn’t been there yet)

Jamie Clayton(Charlie)’s currently filming something else.

Kiowa(Flint)’s also not been confirmed to have filmed any S3 scenes yet (doesn’t mean he hasn’t, the entire cast is notoriously bad at keeping us in the loop about stuff like that 😩)

So that’s what we “know”. In addition:

It could be, that Tyler(Alex) won’t be in 3x01 and/or 3x02 (it’s super hard to tell bc those eps were directed by the same director, maybe they just shifted things around and cleared his schedule for an extended period so he could go home???).

The actor who played young Max in S2 is listed for S3, that probably means Max flashbacks

They’ve released 3 episode (incl. 2 directors) titles so far + we know Dr. Rachel Raimist will direct 3x05

Other than that we have this vague af S3 synopsis that doesn’t tell us anything substantial about S3:

In season three, still reeling from the events of last year, the Roswell aliens and their allies are drawn back together through a threat from a familiar stranger and a murder that has not yet happened.

From near and from far, amidst breakups, reunions, scientific advancements and the impending death of someone they hold dear, our heroes must grapple with two central questions: Who enters our lives and defines who we are?

And what power do we really have over our own futures?

In conclusion:

We actually don’t know ANYTHING about Liz, Alex, Michael, Rosa, Isobel, Kyle, Maria or Max and their S3 arcs!

And I think that’s the main problem here. We know more about four guest characters, their motivations and what they’ll be up to in S3, than we know about the core 8.

And that’s probably what makes so many people anxious. We have no idea how these guest characters fit into S3 because we don’t know anything about S3.

There’s only guessing and assuming and speculating.

Oh, there’s also S2, where so much (too much) focus was put on a million different storylines and side characters, where a main plot was missing for most of the season, where core 8 characters were sidelined and/or had little to no character development, where seemingly important scenes were cut, and so on. And the way S2 ended, doesn’t exactly spark joy and excitement for S3...

It’s no surprise that we’re fucking anxious and worried S3′s gonna serve more of the same.

With new characters (that are not even new characters we’d probably be interested in meeting, like Clay and Mindy Manes, Jim Valenti (yay, flashbacks) or perhaps Maria’s dad) being announced, and no S3 info for reference, how are we supposed to be excited? How are we supposed to not worry S3 will be a repeat of S2.

I don’t think that’s going to be the case (esp. not with Chris having taken over as show runner, I still believe that with him helming the show things will be better), but I get why so many people are worried (to the point of being utterly annoyed and ready to quit the fandom).

One way to fix at least some of this mess (and ease some of the anxiety) would be an interview with Chris Hollier, or at least an article that provides us with UPDATED information about S3, especially details about the core 8.

Because that’s what most of us want to know. What's in store for the characters we love and care about? What about the ships (Malex and Echo in particular)? WHAT ABOUT THE FRIENDSHIPS??? What about the individual characters and their specific journeys?

As long as we don’t know more about S3 at large, and the main characters in particular, any new characters that will be announced, will cause people to worry and/or get annoyed.

#rnm speculation #rnm spoilers #s3 forlex discourse #nonnie asks

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captainsassmanes · 4 years

Note

Trissshhhhh I have a dialogue prompt for you from that list, and bc you know I freaking love angst. “Take me instead” for Malex

Warnings: This one is heavy. Tw: violence, descriptions of injuries, torture, cursing, Jesse Fucking Manes.

Alex’s vision blurred and he realized, slower than he would have liked, that he could see nothing out of his left eye. He sent out a quick prayer that it was just swelling, nothing permanent.

What that meant, either way, was that he couldn’t clearly see the blows before they came anymore. Maybe a small blessing. Maybe really shitty luck.

“Did Max Evans heal Elizabeth Ortecho from a bullet wound?”

The voice of who he’d learned was Staff Sargent Mitchell menaced in his ear.

Alex was in agony. He’d barely eaten in what he figured was weeks, his stomach twisting in a hunger so severe it ached. He’d been beaten everyday, his injuries never having the chance to begin healing. There was a cut on his arm he was sure had become infected and it sat in the perfect spot to send shooting pains straight up his dominant arm every few seconds.

The first few days, maybe a little longer, of his captivity, he’d fought back: pulled against his restraints, spit in Mitchell’s face, laughed in his father’s. He could still remember reasons to be free again and to keep his mouth shut.

Michael. Kyle. Isobel. Michael. Max. Liz. Michael. Arturo. Mimi. Maria. Michael.

He’d repeat their names when he was alone in his cell, pitch black with the smell of dampness and mold filling his nostrils. He’d pull up memories of them, his brain filtering through them all to feature only the best ones.

Getting high with Maria and laughing for hours. Study sessions with Liz that were more milkshakes and gossip than anything else. Sparing with Isobel, watching confidence radiate off her. Waking up next to Michael, watching the sun light up his tan skin, watching his chest rise and fall, the feel of his chest hair, wiry and thick. The little snores he let out when he slept on his back. The way Michael’s hands felt on his own skin, callused and so full of love.

He never cried from the pain, from the fear, from the threats.

But he’d cried when he thought of Michael.

Eventually, unable to deny it, the reality of the situation set in. Alex figured he’d been held for about two weeks. The meetings with his father, demented, psychological warfare, evolved to insure Alex knew no one was looking for him. No one gave a shit. No one missed him.

Kyle continued to go to work, date his precious, new co-worker. Liz and Max were rekindling their romance while Rosa, who they’d discovered almost instantly, continued to dance in the shadows. Isobel was event planning during the day and, according to sources, blowing up bigger and bigger things in the middle of the night.

And then there were Michael and Maria.

Jesse never hesitated to keep Alex well informed with that relationship. The dates they went on. The visits to see Mimi. The hand holding. The love making. The laughter and the smiles.

It had been just a couple of evenings ago, Alex lying on his back, arm on fire and bleeding from his head, when the tears finally stopped. He pictured Michael and Maria, arms wrapped around one another, eyes locked with wide smiles painted across their beautiful faces. He imagined ease and comfort and simplicity. Kindness and consideration, dedication and loyalty.

“Keep them safe...happy,” Alex whispered to no one.

From that moment on, he tucked it all away; his emotions, his pain, his reactions. He had nothing to give them and refused to yield even an inch.

His eyes met Mitchell’s and Alex made no effort to move. He didn’t shrug or smirk or blink an eye. He would give them nothing.

“What exactly can Isobel Evans do?”

Alex was unmoved. He took the next hit, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth.

“Can Michael Guerin move objects with his mind?”

Alex felt a small wave of pride as he remained stoic at the mention of Michael’s name.

The next hit knocked him to the ground, the chair he was tied to coming right down with him. The military issues boots hurt like a son of a bitch, Alex feeling his insides bruising with each kick, until he couldn’t help but let out the vomit he’d been trying to hold back.

“Enough, Mitchell. Stand down.”

The kicking stopped as Mitchell took a few steps back and stood at attention. Jesse came to stand before him, feet still and silence filling the room.

“Pick him up.”

When they came face to face, Alex searched. He searched his father’s features for any indication that Jesse felt something, anything.

It was fruitless.

“This is all you’re gonna give us, son?”

Alex raised an eyebrow, not at the question but at the term of endearment.

With a shallow breath, ribs screaming in protest, he mumbled, “you’ve already taken everything. I’m not giving you shit. Dad.”

Jesse nodded, a familiar look of disappointment in his eyes. “Very well.”

The walk down the long hall felt surprisingly freeing. Alex knew this was it, the end of his journey. Jesse and whoever else was working for him had done what they could to get any information out of him. They must have realized he wouldn’t speak and no one cared enough to try to save him.

So it was time.

He wondered briefly if the stories his mom used to tell him as a boy were true. A great warrior may be able to rest in a peaceful, safe afterlife, or maybe reincarnate as human again to try once more, to live another noble life. Or, perhaps, his sins were too great. He’d end up falling into an abyss for eternity or come back but as a roach or something.

Truthfully, he’d never given much thought to death. Losing his leg had changed that a bit but he still did what he could to focus on the present, moment to moment. Maybe that helped him now. He still felt more curious than afraid.

Alex just hoped for peace.

As the small group turned the final corner, he was pushed back as the sound of guns cocking echoed through the space.

He craned his neck, trying to see what had happened, but couldn’t see past the mammoth solider in front of him.

“Stand down. Now. Hands up.”

“Aw, c’mon now, boys. No way to greet a visitor, is it?”

Alex stumbled a bit, head spinning and heart racing. It wasn’t possible. Not now when he was ready.

If he was being honest, there were nights, bitter, lonely, angry nights when he hated his friends, hated Michael for leaving him, abandoning him completely when he needed them most. He wasn’t the best friend but he did what they needed, helped where he could, took the blows he was dealt. And it got him what? Kidnapped. Left to be tortured and die. Alone.

But once he’d rested, once the blood stopped pulsing so loudly in his ears, he knew it was best. It was what he truly wanted. He’d never want Michael or the Evans’ to risk their safety, their secret, for him. And his other friends, they wouldn’t stand a chance against these fucking sadists.

It was best for all of this to end with him.

But now, as Michael stood in the space that was meant for Alex’s last moments, he couldn’t think.

“You’re nothing in here, Mr. Guerin.” His father’s voice was laced with condescension and excitement.

“Take me instead.”

Alex stopped breathing. Michael’s voice sounded calm and even, bordering on arrogant if that was possible with at least six guns pointed at him. Alex tried to speak but Mitchell beat him.

“If you haven’t noticed, asshole, you’re already taken.”

The sound of Michael’s laugh hit Alex’s ears and, beyond all reason, he smiled. That sound was so rare Alex couldn’t help but treasure it every time, even in the most dire of circumstances.

“Am I?” He felt the soldiers in front of him shift, a sudden change in the air. “Tell me, Master Sargent, why are you under the impression that I’m nothing?”

Alex grit his teeth and grimaced with the pain as he stretched as tall as he could. His eyes locked with Michael’s and Alex knew. There had been a plan. Thank fuck Michael had a plan.

The urge to sob and be held against Michael’s chest, wrapped in his strong arms was overwhelming.

“This place is so loaded with powder you won’t be able to shift a paper clip you fucking freak.”

Alex watched as Michael’s curls danced, moving with the nodding of his head.

“Yikes. I guess I didn’t realize. But I do have one more question.” He pointed to himself as he added, “curious by nature.”

He watched the hands of the soldier in front of him begin to shake, fingers gripping his weapon a bit too tightly. Alex smirked. Maybe they were starting to put it together.

With a voice suddenly full of anger and vitrol, Michael asked the room, “how the fuck do you think I got in here?”

In the blink of an eye, a force Alex couldn’t see pushed him against the wall, air leaving him with the strength of it. He gazed in wonderment, as if watching a movie or a perfect moment of a play, as the soldiers firearms all turned to white doves, flying confused and frightened around the space.

Each soldier died without Michael needing to move a muscle, his face unchanged, although his eyes had shifted from a stunning hazel to completely black. Alex thought he’d never looked better.

When the final man fell to the floor in a bloody pile, Michael turned that black, empty gaze to Alex. Jesse floated out of the room, chin lifted and struggling for air, and into the hall, toes barely touching the now stained linoleum.

Alex understood Michael’s silent question.

With difficulty, Alex stood, discovering his restraints had literally vanished. He met his father’s glare, searching one, last time for some semblance of shame, regret, sadness. He found nothing but disgust and hatred.

Cradling his core, Alex stood straight, the Manes man his father had always wanted him to be. He didn’t remove his eyes from his fathers and his voice didn’t waiver as he said, “lock him in and blow it up.”

Jesse’s body flew backward and into the room with his ever-obedient team. He landed on the floor, on his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air.

Michael had moved to stand beside Alex, eyes now the stunning gold he normally wore, and took Alex’s bloody, broken hand in his.

“Don’t worry, Jesse.” Michael brought Alex’s hand up to his mouth and placed a delicate, gentle kiss to the back of it, mouth coming away scarlet with blood. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Jesse snarled and moved to stand before the door slammed shut and locked, Jesse’s screams slipping under the space of the door.

Alex stood, stunned, that it was finally over, that Michael was here, that Jesse would be gone, that he would live.

“We’ve gotta go.”

Alex nodded but didn’t move.

“Will you, Michael?”

“Will I what, Alex?”

He was too exhausted to keep the break from his voice. “Take care of me.”

Michael smiled as Alex felt his body become immeasurably lighter, moving without making any effort at all. Michael wrapped an arm around Alex and pulled him into his side.

“Forever if you’ll let me.”

Alex never imagined his happy ending would begin with an explosion.

#Roswell New Mexico #Malex #Malex fic #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: torture #tw: cursing #angst #angst with a hopeful ending #my fic #fic for Denver #barely edited

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neeterloveschenford · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on RNM 2x08

Another episode down. There was some good stuff in this one. There was also some not so good stuff. (I think I’m seeing a trend here.) Anyhoo, let’s dive right in, shall we?!?

Things I Liked:

First things first, was anyone really surprised that Sanders was Walt? Or how about Agent Grace Powell being Charlie? Nice try Carina.

Rosa and the girls playing dress up was great. Loved her hair! Also loved that she picked the worst possible outfit. That’s my girl!

Loved her whole arc this episode. Her imagining her new friend and then realizing that that is how she could have turned out if only she hadn’t died was heartbreaking. I truly hope she is able to figure things out in rehab this time and become that person.

I liked Charlie. When she was talking to Liz and totally dragging Max, she won my heart forever. I mean, I think she’s wrong and Liz is right for wanting both science and love, but haha she called Max stupid! Also, she totally designed that smart bomb. Hope we haven’t seen the last of her.

I want to know more about Tripp. Who killed him? Was it Nora? The alien that could give tumors? Flamethrower guy? Louise? I need to know. I’d like to see that and young Jesse. I think it’d be cool to see how he turned into who he is now.

Isobel and Maria snarking at each other is always worth the price of admission. I still think Isobel is too good for Maria, but I would not be opposed to them eventually getting together. I mean, Maria has a lot of work to do to redeem herself in my eyes. But come on, “Hey Girlfriend!” Foreshadowing much?

I can’t wait to hear what Sanders has to say about what happened when he was a little boy. I truly think he has spent all these years trying to look out for Michael without getting too attached. Obviously, he’s failed miserably. How could you not get attached to Michael?

So Deep Sky is behind the abductions. I need to know more about them. Also, did Jesse once work for them? Is that how he knows so much about them? Or maybe they were part of a rival government agency? Perhaps they took over Project Shepherd when it was “shut down” back in 2010.

Jenna going into “cop” mode when she was talking about her abduction, then breaking down when talking about a tox screen and rape kit just broke my heart. She deserves the world.

So Forrest. He made my baby Alex smile real big. He’s ok in my book. Interesting that he was in the military though. Don’t think that’s a coincidence. It may be that he has something to do with Deep Sky. Hopefully not. Alex deserves to have his own simple uncomplicated relationship. Either way, if he helps Alex come into his own, I am down for it.

Things I Didn’t Like:

Enthusiastic consent has always been a huge thing on this show. Where the heck was it two episodes ago? Hmmmm? (Still salty, I admit it.)

They talked about him, but it sure would have been nice to see Kyle at the hospital supporting his sister. Lame.

So Maria’s intuition was through the roof last season. Mayhaps you should have listened to it? I’m just saying……

Why didn’t Max just pull the lever on the circuit box? Wouldn’t that have been easier and faster? Also, less stress on your heart dude.

Why can’t we see Alex interact with his supposed best friend Liz? We hardly ever see him with her. I think the last time we actually saw and in person conversation with them was the whole left nice in the middle east speech from last season.

I need to see Rosa and Alex together. That would be fantastic.

Does Jesse think he’s fooling anyone other than, apparently, Max?

No jealous Michael yet.

Speaking of, no Malex this episode. (BOO!)

Miluca just annoys me. No chemistry. At all. And I don’t like how desperate Michael is to be the perfect boyfriend. Ugh. They just suck so bad. Will this nightmare ever end?!?

Random Thoughts and Speculations:

I need Maria to see a vision of Michael and Alex happy together in the future. Maybe then she would understand their cosmic connection.

Still think we’ll get some kind of “Dark Maria.” I think the necklace keeps them from losing control of their powers. I think she also has the ability to influence emotions. That’s how she was able to manipulate them in episode 6.

Wonder if Charlie is trans too? Would be really interesting if she was.

Once again we are down an episode. I’m kinda excited since it is believed Maria won’t be in the next ep. I need a break. Also, jealous Michael. I need this with every fiber of my being and I need Alex to call him out on it. I hope everyone is doing great and staying safe. Take it from an essential employee, socially distance yourselves! Take care of yourselves my lovelies! Till next time!

#roswell new mexico #season 2 episode 8 #spoilers #speculation #it's only my opinion #anti miluca #just in case

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soberqueerinthewild · 5 years

Text

We both carry a switchblade in our sleeves

{AO3 Link}

An Isobel & Alex friendship fic, inspired by @acomebackstory‘s desire for more Isobel content. Introspective Isobel POV, with mentions of Michael/Maria, hints of Malex, and a lot of Isobel and Alex sassing each other. Thanks to @ubiestcaelum and @seeaddywrite for listening to me complain endlessly as I struggled to write this, reading bits over the last few weeks, and offering encouragement. This fic would not exist without you both.

****

It turns out there’s not really a dignified way to fall on your ass. Disgruntled, Isobel scowls as she reaches out for the proffered hand. As soon as she’s upright, she locks her arm, shoving forward, while sweeping her leg behind her opponents ankle like she’d learned, using his momentum against him. She lets out a satisfied ‘ha’ as her partner lands on the mat in a similarly unceremonious fashion.

“You don’t feel even a little bit bad about aiming for my prosthetic with that leg sweep?”

Isobel smirks down at Alex Manes as he moves himself into a sitting position on the mat, looking far too relaxed and not nearly disheveled enough for the end of an hour-long self defense class. Though Isobel hasn’t glanced lately at the mirrored wall at the front of the studio, she knows that while her lululemon leggings and bright turquoise lycra workout top are the same ones she used to wear to yoga and Pilates a lifetime ago, her hair matted to her neck with sweat, her face free of makeup, and the dark circles under her eyes, would make her practically unrecognizable to her former social set.

“As the teacher of this class, you don’t feel a little embarrassed that one of your students laid you out?”

Alex regards her with something akin to pride. In her accomplishments or his own teaching skills, she’s not sure. “Either I’m getting slow or you’re getting good at this. Kind of a toss up.”

He gets to his feet and does a quick wrap up, dismissing the other eight members of the class. As he gathers his things, he looks back at Isobel over his shoulder. “You look a little beat. You sure you’re up for it today?” She shoots him a withering glare and he raises his hands in capitulation. “Right, of course, shouldn’t have even asked.” She follows him past the front desk and out the door, zigzagging through the other cars in the parking lot until she reaches her own. She rolls her eyes as she notices how Alex stops next to his own car, waiting to step in until she’s safely ensconced in the driver’s seat of her Rav4. She’s hardly likely to get jumped at 5 pm in broad daylight, even if the Y is located in a slightly sketchier part of Roswell than she typically frequents. Besides, hadn’t she just demonstrated she was more than capable of taking care of herself? She supposes the ingrained vigilance and chivalry are hard habits to break. She idles in her car until he pulls out of his space, following close behind on the winding back roads that will take them back to his cabin.

A month ago, Isobel never would’ve imagined she’d be willingly be following Alex Manes anywhere. Isobel’s always kept her distance from Alex. It might have been a little unfair, but Isobel has always had an instinctive distrust of anyone her brothers appear to love and holds a protective grudge against anyone that she suspects has hurt them. Given that Michael described their relationship as feeling like a “crash landing,” Alex certainly fits into both those categories. Then, of course, there’s the innate fear of anyone who knows their secret, especially if their family seems to have some kind of fucked up alien hunting gene. The distrust remained even since Alex has taken steps to help them since Max’s death, by combing through data from Project Shepherd, and researching on the dark web to assist Kyle, Liz, and Michael in modifying the serum to strengthen her and Michael’s powers. But Alex is still one of the few people she can’t quite get a read on. She tried to get into his head once, and though it wasn’t painful the way it was when she tried to get into Maria’s head, she hit a smooth and slippery wall when she tried. His mental control was stronger than most she’d encountered, which raised her suspicions, wondering what secrets he was protecting so closely. Because of all these things, she’s always kept her guard up with Alex.

So, when she’d realized Alex was subbing for the planned teacher of the self defense class she’d dragged herself to she’d nearly walked out three times. She’d been searching desperately to find some outlet that would exhaust her body sufficiently to let her sleep through the night, and thought this class might be it. The ice cold feeling that seeped through her veins the moment Max drained his life force being a fucking martyr had made it almost impossible for her to ever get comfortable enough to sleep. At least that’s what she told herself as she stared at the ceiling each night, unwilling to admit that at least part of her restlessness might be that she still unconsciously reaches for her husband when on the verge of sleep. Finding the empty space instead of a warm body jolts her into wakefulness.

The lack of sleep was making it nearly impossible to focus on what she needed to be doing, working to expand her powers so she could bring Max back. The only times she’d managed to sleep through the night were the times she’d exhausted herself practicing telekinesis to the point of passing out, which came with the fantastic side effects of vomiting, hangovers, and an inability to wake up from her nightmares. Every other night she’d toss and turn for hours before falling into a fitful sleep, only to be jerked awake after another dream where Noah oscillated between loving husband to killer, and back again. Sometimes she saw him killing her, other times using her own body to kill Rosa, some nights she imagined him torturing Max or Michael, killing them and making her watch helpless. In every version of every dream that’s the feeling she wakes up with… helplessness.

She tried everything she could think of to tire out her body and mind enough that she’d succumb to slumber without making herself sick. But she was too high strung right now for yoga and Pilates, her typical exercises of choice. Besides, walking into a firing squad would be preferable to stepping foot into the health club she and her mother typically frequent, where the whispers of speculation about Noah’s whereabouts run the gamut from mundane (he left her for his secretary) to laughable (she’s been cheating on him with Michael for years) to fanciful (he’s in witness protection). She opted instead for the dingy YMCA on the edge of town, where she doubted she’d run into anyone she knew. Her feet pounding on the treadmill felt good when she set a punishing pace, but she got winded quickly and was still left with the overwhelming urge to pummel something. She had tried the heavy bag before the treadmill, but with no idea what she was doing, she succeeded only in hurting her hand. The flyer caught her eye as she bent to get a sip of water from the fountain: An 8 week self defense class, meeting every Wednesday, starting the following day. Though Isobel’s only experience with hand to hand combat had been slapping Kate Long across the face junior year, she decided perhaps it was just what she needed.

Of course, when Alex Manes sauntered through the door of the small studio next to the gymnasium where the class was scheduled to meet, she’d internally cursed the desperate impulse that brought her to the class. She noticed the second he clocked her because his his eyes widened a few millimeters, but beyond that, he gave no indication of shock or surprise at seeing her here. Even when they partnered to practice the moves he taught the class, as the other students had arrived in pairs, he seemed content to let her decide whether to acknowledge that they frequented the same bunkers around town researching alien resurrection. That first day she chose not to, instead focusing on his calm, clear instructions, a welcome relief from the rest of her life where she felt uncertain and unanchored without Max’s steadying presence. The night after the first class, Isobel slept for four hours straight. The nightmare that woke her ended as it often did, with Noah’s hand clapped around her mouth, but this time at least, blood was gushing from his nose as Isobel had gotten in a sharp elbow strike to his face before his powers overwhelmed her.

The second class went much like the first: Isobel enjoying the chance to shutting off her mind and focus only on Alex’s steady voice. When they practiced hand-to-hand, she’d been surprised but pleased that he didn’t hold back, didn’t treat her like a delicate victim, and instead struck sure and strong, which forced her to be vigilant and think quickly and creatively to use the moves Alex had taught so far. After class, she still felt restless and sought out the heavy bag, hoping she’d learned enough this far that she wouldn’t hurt herself this time. She never made it past a few experimental punches, as a parade of men approached attempting to grope her under the guise of “instruction.” After the fourth one, Alex approached tentatively and offered her an alternative. That’s how she first ended up out behind Alex’s cabin wailing on a punching bag while he remained blessedly quiet apart from offering a few suggestions to ensure she protected her hands. She slept five hours that night, and when she'd jolted awake from the nightmare, sun was already gleaming through the windows. She recalled that she’d gotten four good hits in against dream Noah before she was taken down. After the third class plus more post-class instruction on a heavy bag and this time a speed bag at Alex’s, she slept six hours.

So now, for the third week in a row, she’s following behind Alex’s SUV the 20 minutes to his place. He’s waiting for her when she pulls up, leading her back to the shed behind his cabin where he’s set up the workout space. Alex settles himself on the mat, starting the careful stretches he does religiously after class, while she gets to work on the heavy bag channeling her frustrations: that she still hasn’t made much progress, still can’t heal anything more complex than a bruise, and though she’s sleeping more, still wakes up with nightmares. She focuses on keeping a steady rhythm like Alex showed her, and loses herself in the exercise until she sees Alex move to the corner of the shed and start fiddling with a locked case. She immediately recognizes that it must be a weapons case. Her pulse quickens and her breath goes shallow.

He sees her staring and quickly assures her, “I’m just changing the combination, not taking them out. I’m sorry if that freaked you out.”

Isobel barely hears him as a memory flashes through her mind: Noah, hands shaking, nervously waving a gun at her, in what she now realizes was an elaborate act to distract her from his true nature. Unbidden, she sees another flash, this one unfamiliar, of herself, expertly wielding a gun pointed straight at her brother’s heart. Her punches, measured before, rain down wildly on the bag, her breathing erratic. She punches and kicks, berating herself internally, wondering why she’s even bothering. No elbow to the nose, kick to the knee, or leg sweep would’ve protected her against what Noah did to her. How he used her, violated her. He’s dead and still haunting her dreams, preventing her from feeling strong enough to save her brother. She feels Alex’s presence beside her, watching her cautiously, but not touching to intervene. She knows his instinct is to stop her, her form is all wrong and she’ll have bruises on her knuckles, but he never touches without consent, which she doesn’t offer. So he lets her punch herself out, finally collapsing on the mat, and pulling her knees to her chest. Alex eases himself down next to her, still silent.

She looks over at him, expecting to see pity in his eyes, but all she sees is understanding. “My abuser is dead, my brother killed him. He can’t hurt me or anyone else again. I don’t know why the fuck I’m still scared of him. I guess that makes me pretty pathetic.” It’s more truth than she planned to spill, and as soon as it’s out of her mouth she wants to yank it back, bury it back down deep where her fear has always lived, beneath her confidence and polished facade. But here, she can’t seem to find it. She feels beaten down and exposed.

“My best friend put mine in a coma and I’m still scared of him, so I might have you beat there.” Alex responds with quiet truth of his own. The intimacy of the moment makes Isobel feels off-balance and she seeks to right herself, the only way she knows how.

“Wait, Valenti is your best friend? Ok, I concede then. That does make you the most pathetic. “

Instead of the offended sputter or subject change she’s expecting, Alex just smirks and shoots back, “At least I have friends. Do you even have any, other than your brother?”

Well, who knew he had it in him. Fine. He wants to play it like that. Isobel has far more where that came from. She can admit her opening jab was a little weak, but she’s sure this one will do the trick, and Alex will walk out and leave her alone with her anger. “Maybe not, but I’d think having no friends might be preferable to friends that either once tried to hate crime you, or that steal your boyfriend.”

It hits just how she intended it to, but the flash of sharp pain in his eyes doesn’t bring the satisfaction she thinks it will. She’s been alone with her anger for weeks, and it hasn’t helped any. If she’s honest with herself the only true respite she’s found has been with Alex, who doesn’t ever push, but offers quiet support and space for her to work things out for herself. She looks down ashamed for a minute, but when she looks back up she’s surprised to see he’s made no moves to leave. He’s sitting back and studying her with a curiosity, no trace of the hurt she saw just a minute before. “No wonder you’re such a natural in class. That instinct can’t be taught.”

“What instinct?” Isobel’s not sure if she should be offended or not.

“When you’re attacked, you go straight for the jugular. Lots of people hesitate and it gets them hurt. You don’t. That’s good.” He grins suddenly like he can’t quite stop himself. “I mean, for self defense it is. Maybe not so much for making friends.”

Almost against her will, Isobel finds herself smiling back.

****

The following Monday, Isobel pushes open the door of the Crashdown and nearly collides with Kyle Valenti as he exits, speaking urgently into his phone in a hushed tone. She’s on a mission to find Michael, who has been AWOL from their last two planned practice sessions. He does spend some time researching with Liz, and attending group meetings with Isobel, Alex and Kyle where they discuss any new developments in the plan to resurrect Max, but he avoids visiting Max’s pod, and grows easily frustrated when Isobel pressures him to work on expanding his powers. He seems to take any opportunity to duck out, single minded in his efforts to try to live a “normal life.” It’s so diametrically opposed from his former stance, its dizzying. Out of the three of them, Michael’s the one that embraced his alien side, seemed to relish his powers. His avoidance of Max’s pod, his disinterest in practicing his powers, and his desperation to escape into his relationship with Maria, is worrying. She needs him to pull himself together and help her. She can’t bring Max back alone, so when she spots his truck outside the Crashdown, she is determined to drag him by the ear to the pods and make him tell her what is going on with him.

Yet, when she steps into the diner and spots Michael stretched across a booth, his arm around Maria’s shoulders, she hesitates. She can’t speak freely in front of Maria, and she’s suddenly exhausted contemplating fighting with Michael. As she lingers undecided, she spots Alex in a booth on the other side of the diner, sitting alone, idly dipping fries into his milkshake. Though he’s staring straight ahead, she sees his eyes flicker slightly to Michael and Maria’s booth. Before she takes time to think about it, she slides into the booth across from Alex and snags a fry from his plate popping it in her mouth.

Alex gives her a bemused look and speaks with an exaggerated politeness. “Hi Isobel, how are you? Why don’t you sit down.”

Isobel waves him off. “Please, I think we’re past the pleasantries at this point. Plus, it’s kind of tragic for you to be sitting here all alone. I’m saving you.”

“I wasn’t alone; you just missed Kyle. He was called back to the hospital.”

“I thought we already established that you hanging with Valenti, also tragic.”

“Whereas you stealing my fries and sitting down uninvited is...”

“Me being charitable, I told you. Keep up.”

Alex huffs out a laugh as he runs a hand through his hair, which, Isobel notices, is carefully styled and several rings adorn his fingers. She takes in his mint green sweater and leather jacket. “Wait,” she starts, her tone accusatory, “you look nice.”

“Ok, those words seem to form a compliment, but yet coming out of your mouth it sounds like a condemnation somehow?”

“You’re not like… dating Valenti are you?” Isobel’s not sure who looks more appalled by the idea, her or Alex.

“God no. Kyle is so straight. In every sense of the word. Plus, I got over any interest in him when I was 13. That’s definitely not happening…”

He trails off and Isobel feels his concentration is divided. She knows before she looks that Alex’s focus is drawn to Michael. When she does glance over she sees what caught Alex’s attention. Michael is staring, brow furrowed in confusion likely bewildered by Isobel’s presence at Alex’s table. Beyond that, Isobel sees the flash of something else in his gaze, something that looks a little bit like longing with just a touch of lust. Apparently she’s not the only one who noticed that Alex looks good.

Isobel rolls her eyes internally. How these boys ever thought they were subtle she’ll never know. As starts to make a crack to that effect, she hears a prim voice greet her.

“Isobel, sweetie, it’s so good to see you out and about!” Isobel barely contains a groan as she looks up and sees Celeste Mccormick has stopped at their table. Isobel hadn’t liked her much when they’d been planning the last veterans benefit fundraiser, and since Noah’s death, her tolerance for putting up with superficial bullshit has plummeted. She tries to match Celeste’s fake smile and returns the greeting through gritted teeth. Celeste continues, voice lowered now, “We were all so sorry to hear, about, well… what happened. I hope you don’t blame yourself. Men just can’t help themselves sometimes, always chasing after younger models…”

Isobel sees red, but before she can open her mouth to eviscerate the woman for daring to speak to her, much less comment on her former husband, Alex stands up and interrupts before Isobel can say a word. “Mrs. Mccormick, so nice to see you again.”

Celeste turns her attention to Alex, her face still a mask of cordiality. “Captain Manes, how are you? You’re approaching the end of your enlistment period, right? I’m sure the Air Force is sorry to see you go. My husband always spoke so highly of you when you served together before his retirement.”

“I guess retirement is one word for it,” Alex responds, matching her fake tone of civility. “We were all so shocked that he managed to get an honorable discharge, what with the trouble he had keeping his hands to himself around his subordinates. I guess he knew it was best to take it and run, even just three years shy of his twenty. Better than the alternative, I guess. Certainly give him my best.”

Celeste stutters for a moment, seemingly rendered speechless, before she spins on her heel and exits the diner with a huff, food apparently forgotten. When the door slams behind her, Isobel sighs in relief, the tension leaving her body. As Alex slides back into the booth, Isobel crosses her arms, studying him with a new appreciation. “That was spectacularly bitchy, Manes. I’m impressed. What was that?”

“Me being charitable.” Alex imitates Isobel’s earlier tone. Isobel chucks a fry at him, and he laughs. “Plus maybe she’ll think twice before she opens her mouth to spout more rumors. That whole family is awful. Ten to one, the only thing her husband’s ever said about me at home is that he doesn’t understand how a fag got promoted over him, and then she comes in here talking all polite to me. I hate all that fake bullshit.”

Well fuck, Isobel guesses she has to like Alex Manes now. “Ok, that performance earns you a few points in my book. I guess you’re not as boring as you seem.”

“Oh good, your approval is everything I’ve ever strived for,” Alex quips sarcastically.

“But, don’t think that’s going to distract me. If you’re not trying to look good for Valenti, why do you look so nice today?”

“Ok, I’m not really dressed up!” Alex’s frustration with her inability to let anything go is clear. Isobel just holds his gaze. It is subtle, but after seeing him somewhat regularly since Max’s death, she’s familiar enough with his look to tell this outfit is just a little sharper and better put together than his typical daily wear. “Fine,” Alex relents. “If you must know, I slept badly last night, woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep for a while. This morning, I felt like absolute shit. Sometimes looking good can help combat that feeling a little. The rings are a little fuck you to my dad. He hated them: too gay. It’s the kind of thing I’d imagine he could sense even in his coma.”

Armor, yeah that’s something Isobel understands. A rush of empathy for him sweeps through her. It feels a little unfamiliar. For months she’s been too wrapped up in her own trauma to have much space for anyone else. Somehow Alex has sneaked in as someone she cares about. His unassuming support, and the way he just seems to understand makes him easier to be around than basically anyone else right now. She guesses she shouldn’t be surprised that Alex gets nightmares too. They’ve never spoken directly about hers, but Isobel is pretty sure he knows the reason she strives so hard to exhaust herself in their workout sessions. Alex is carefully controlled regarding his personal information, so she knows that referencing his nightmares, even abstractly, was intentional, and likely partly for her benefit.

Isobel hasn’t talked to anyone about her nightmares, but Alex exhibiting a little vulnerability makes her feel like opening herself up a bit too. “After yours, you can go back to sleep eventually?” The worst thing about her nightmares is that no matter when they come, she can’t get back to sleep after. Tiring herself out with self defense workouts or other means tends to get the best results, in that she can fall into a dreamless sleep for a few hours at least, but once she’s up, she’s up. If she’s not worn out enough, she can end up awake at 2 A.M. with no hope of rest until morning.

Alex looks up at her with soft eyes. “Now I can, usually. I have a few tricks I use that help with the bad ones. I could...teach you them, sometime.”

“Yeah, some time maybe that would be good.” Isobel responds, voice barely audible. She's embarrassed at the way tears prick behind her eyes at the small kindness. It overwhelms her and feels like too much for public. She senses Alex feels the same, neither of them particularly outwardly emotive if they can help it. Isobel clears her throat and flips her hair in an effort to regain her composure. She tosses off lightly, “Maybe after the next time I take you down.”

Alex takes the subject change in stride and volleys back, “You can certainly try.”

They settle into lighter topics, their banter fractured only when Alex loses the thread of the conversation when Michael and Maria exit the diner. Isobel feels another flash of empathy for Alex and annoyance at Michael. She wants Michael to be happy, and if she thought he was, she’d try to get on board with this relationship, even if she and Maria don’t much care for each other. But it seems less like a blossoming love story, and more like an escape; a place for Michael to hide out. He’s been closed off from her since Max’s death, trying hard to pretend things are normal, so she’s walked through his mindscape here and there, trying to find a way to reach him. It was chaotic; it always was, but lately it felt more twisted than usual. There was more pain, rage, and anger than ever before, but it’s like he’s tried to box it all up and shove it in a corner. The box rattles, strains, and howls, fighting against the effort Michael exerts to tamp it down. It fights for control against his desperation to feel normal. It pushes and pulls him in every direction until he doesn’t know which way is up.

Michael just can’t seem to find peace, though he tries so desperately. When he’s with Maria, Isobel sees the effort he exerts with her. He has affection for her, that’s evident, but he acts like she did in the early days with Noah. It’s like he’s imitating what he thinks a boyfriend should do, what a normal relationship should be like. He hides in her, hides from his trauma, his anger, his grief. He hides from Isobel there, too. Isobel knows the danger in that. She hid in Noah for so long. From her true nature, from her fear, her trauma. It didn’t work for her, and though the circumstances are different, in that Maria genuinely cares for Michael and isn’t a serial killer, she fears it won’t work for him either. Especially not when he burns brighter making eye contact with Alex than he does when he kisses Maria.

Isobel understands needing a respite from the intensity, needing a break from reality, but in Isobel’s estimation, break time is just about over. Because as much as she is trying to be self reliant, she needs Michael to bring back Max. But Isobel knows she can’t bend him to her will. Michael will only dig his heels in deeper. Patience doesn’t come naturally to her, but she’s trying to fight her instincts and focus on what she can control, which is making herself as strong as she can be so she’s as prepared as possible to bring Max back. She can wait to pull Michael back to her, back to reality, when the time is right.

She breaks out of her reverie, and sees Alex’s eyes are clouded over, fixed still on the door where Maria and Michael recently exited. She figures he could use a bit of distraction too, a project. Maybe they can help each other yet again. “Alex,” she ventures, leaning in towards him. He snaps his attention back to her. “Do you think you could teach me some ways to combine my self defense skills with telekinesis?” Isobel smirks as Alex’s eyes light up.

****

Two weeks later, she collapses at home, exhausted by another afternoon out at Alex’s. They’ve been meeting three times a week, and she’s seeing real progress. Alex has designed some ingenious workouts for her to merge her new hand-to-hand skills with her telekinesis. He’s been a remarkably good sport about letting Isobel toss him around, both with her powers and even a few times with a kick or flipping him over her hip. Isobel finds her control over her powers has tightened since she started self defense with Alex. She is able to use them longer now, without as much of an aftereffect. She’s finally starting to gain a little traction with healing too. She’s not sure if it’s a result in practice, an increase in her physical stamina, or about her feeling safer and more confident in herself. Tonight she’s feeling good, thinking she might get a good night’s sleep, when she catches sight of the date on her phone, and realizes with a start that tomorrow is her and Noah’s anniversary. She’s not sure how she forgot about it, but her life is so different now than it once was, and days bleed into each other. She tries to shake off the realization, tell herself it doesn’t matter, it’s just another day. The relationship was fake, so the anniversary should be meaningless.

She occupies herself with a few evening chores, before getting in bed early, hoping to capitalize on her fatigue and get in as many hours of sleep as she can. Hours later, she jolts awake, shaking, a scream on her lips, as she manages to wrench herself free of her nightmare. When she’s finally fully awake, she flicks the light on, unable to stop shaking. She’s gotten used to the nightmares of Noah in his last days on earth, even some where he morphs from the sweet, kind man she thought she knew into the monster, but this one was different. It was just her loving husband, all the sweet, tender moments they shared, playing on a never ending loop: him smiling at her after their first date, his proposal where he told her he never wanted to face a day without her, their wedding day, where he vowed to protect her, to never let anyone hurt her, him looking at her with such affection, reminding her that he was her person, begging her to let him in, let him make her happy. She was forced to watch herself let his sweet words chip away at her defenses, bit by bit. Watch the way the guilt tore through her each time she couldn’t reciprocate his love in the same way, watch the way she always tried so hard, to be what he wanted, to be worthy of him, to feel what she felt like she should feel, but never quite did. She was forced to remember the way she always felt a little broken with him because she couldn’t.

Her breath comes faster now and the shaking intensifies. It’s only 1:30 am and she knows trying to go back to sleep is futile. The idea of being alone with her thoughts in the dark for the next five or six hours, and having to function tomorrow on two-and-a-half hours of sleep only increases her panic. She’s about to press Michael’s name on her phone when she hesitates. She knows if she calls, Michael will come over. He’ll wrap her in a blanket, berate himself for not protecting her from Noah, and make false promises that he’ll never let anyone hurt her ever again. And she’d feel protected and safe for a while, but when he left, she’d feel helpless again. Michael loves her, but he treats her like she’s fragile, and she feels that way plenty all by herself. It’s not what she needs tonight. Before she can stop herself, she’s pressing on a different name. As the phone rings, she realizes this might be a little inappropriate, given the time of night, but before she has a chance to change her mind, Alex answers the phone, his voice rough with sleep.

“Isobel? It’s the middle of the night…are you ok?”

Just hearing a comforting voice is enough for the frustrated tears to spill over. She tries to hide it best she can as she chokes out, “Umm...I’ve been better…” She’s not sure exactly what she needs from him or how to ask for it.

“Do you want me to come over?” he asks gently.

“Yeah...umm. Ok. That would be good.”

A half-hour later she hears a quiet knock on the door, and drags herself and her blanket to get it. She lets him in without a word, and he follows her back to the couch and sits beside her.

They sit in silence for a while before he ventures, “So, did you have a nightmare?”

Isobel nods. “I thought I was getting better. Stronger. But now I feel like I’m just back where I started.”

“Recovery’s not a straight line, Isobel. You’ll have hard days, and better days, and then tough days again, but there is a time in the future it will be consistently better.”

Isobel interrupts to scoff, “Ok, that sounds like some shrink mumbo-jumbo if I ever heard it.”

“It might be something an Airforce shrink said to me once,” Alex admits, an edge of amusement to his voice, “but it also happens to be true. You have made strides, you’ve taken control of your life, of your safety.” His tone turns lighter now, “You’re a badass, Isobel. You could take down half the guys in my squadron now, even without your powers.”

“Then why can’t I beat a fucking nightmare, where I just see my whole sham of a marriage on a loop over and over again?”

“Because your subconscious is a bitch. It’s harder to control. You know I still get nightmares too sometimes. But less now, and usually only when some new shit triggers old trauma.”

“But you can go back to sleep after? You said that right? How? Cause I really fucking need some sleep.” Fatigue brings Isobel close to tears for what feels like the hundredth time that night.

“I have some strategies I use. Some of them might work for you. We can try one of them now if you want. Why don’t you lie down and get comfortable.” If Alex is surprised that when Isobel settles a pillow into his lap and lays her head down there, he doesn’t show it.

“So one strategy I use is reciting boring things in my mind until I drift off. Sometimes I use a section from the first coding textbook I got in one of my Air Force classes. Focusing my whole brain on remembering that, kept me from perseverating over my flashbacks, but was so dull I’d eventually drift off.”

“I’m sure this will shock you, but I haven’t exactly memorized any coding textbooks…”

“You can use anything, even going through the scenes of a movie you like, or through song lyrics.”

“How far through the Panic! at the Disco discography have you gotten?” Isobel interrupts with a playful smirk.

Alex grins back at her, taking the jab in stride. “My music taste, no matter how amusing to you, is not the point. You can use whatever banal pop you listen to, if that works for you. The other thing I do sometimes, if I’m feeling more...vulnerable, I guess is the right word...is go through all the steps in a martial arts routine. Remembering all the skills I have now to protect myself can help sometimes. Maybe that could work for you. You can imagine all the steps to one of the ten minute warm-up routines I’ve taught you. Maybe going through all the kicks and jabs will give you something to focus on, remind you of all the ways you are strong, and keep the intrusive thoughts out.”

Isobel doubts it will work, but she’s willing to try anything at this point. “Alright, I can try that, I guess. You can go if you need to.”

“How about I stay here and show you. I can describe the moves out loud for you, so you can do it yourself next time.” Isobel nods gratefully. Alex starts to recite the moves in a low, calming voice.

Isobel closes her eyes, and has just begun to drift off when she hears her front door slam open, and Michael’s voice echoes through the hall, “Isobel, Iz!” He comes barreling into the living room, stopping short when he catches a glimpse of Isobel on the couch with her head in Alex’s lap. He pauses, just staring at Alex for a beat, before he regains his voice and seems to remember what he’s doing here. “What the hell, Iz! I thought you were in trouble!”

Isobel sits halfway up and turns to face Michael. “Umm, why?”

“I felt it. You called to me. You screamed!”

Oh shit, Isobel supposes maybe when she was first waking up, in her distress, she’d called out to Michael. She had been poking around in his head a bit lately, trying to find the best time to push a little, which must have strengthened the connection.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I didn’t realize I did that.” Suddenly a thought occurs to her. “Wait… that must’ve been almost 45 minutes ago.”

Michael has the grace to look a little abashed. “I felt it, but I was really asleep,” Isobel snorts, knowing that’s a euphemism for passed out drunk, “and I thought it was just part of a nightmare, so I fell back asleep. When I woke up again, I got worried that it might’ve been real, so I reached out to you and could feel that you were in distress still. I tried calling and when I couldn’t get you, I drove over here.”

A rush of affection courses through Isobel. Michael might be a mess right now, but he always does his best to come through for her. “I’m sorry for waking you. I just...it’s my wedding anniversary tomorrow, or today I guess? I had a nightmare and it freaked me out.”

“And you didn’t call me?” His attention shifts again to Alex, who is fingering the pillow nervously while avoiding looking at either of them. “But you called Alex?”

Isobel isn’t sure how to respond in a way that won’t hurt Michael. It would break his heart if she told him that sometimes he makes her feel weak, like she can’t care for herself. Not when he tries so hard to be everything she needs. “We’ve become...I don’t know, friends?” At that, Alex looks up finally from the pillow and arches an eyebrow at her. “He’s helped me with some self defense stuff, and I just called him before I thought much of it. Once he said he was coming over, I figured I didn’t have to bother you.” She settles her head back down on Alex’s lap.

Michael’s face softens, and he walks over, shifting her legs and placing them on his lap as he sits at the opposite end of the couch from Alex. “I want you to bother me.”

“Ok,” Isobel agrees, fatigue beginning to pull at her eyelids. “I will next time if I need to. Right now, though, Alex was helping me get back to sleep and it was kind of working so if you’re going to stay, I’ll need you to pipe down.” Michael shoots her a look that’s half adoration, half exasperation but doesn’t get up to leave. Alex, whose whole body has been tense since Michael sat down, relaxes a bit and resumes his quiet recitation until she doses off.

She’s not sure if it’s a few minutes or an hour before she stirs, still on the couch between Michael and Alex, who are talking in hushed tones. “Look, she is just trying to get back some parts of herself that were taken from her. She wants to feel strong,” Alex pauses and his tone turns rueful, “like the kind of person who wins battles.” Michael’s intake of breath at that statement indicates to Isobel that there is some deeper meaning to those words to them than she understands. “We...I don’t know...we understand each other.”

Michael’s anger, so close to the surface these days, flickers to life. “You’re saying I don’t understand her? I’m not there for her?”

“No, Guerin. That’s not what I’m saying.” Alex placates. “She knows you’d do anything to protect her, keep anyone from hurting her. You and Max. But she lost Max, and she needs to know she can protect herself too. I get that instinct. I thought maybe I could help her avoid the pitfalls I fell into. Make sure she knows she can rely on herself and other people, too. That she doesn’t have to push everyone away and wait to let them back in until she feels whole again.” Through slotted eyes, Isobel sees Alex is looking fixedly at a point on the wall straight ahead, while Michael can’t seem to tear his gaze away from Alex.

When Michael speaks, his voice is quiet, but heavy with the weight of all the things they aren’t saying. “Thank you. For being there for her. If I couldn’t be… what she needed.”

“I meant what I said.” Alex‘s tone is barely above a whisper, “You are my family, no matter what is or isn’t happening between us. That makes her my family too.”

The silence stretches between them. Isobel can feel Michael vibrating with the need to reach out to Alex, to say or do something. She hears his hand slide across the top of the couch until it settles on top of Alex’s, which is still resting between the couch and Isobel’s side. “Alex…” Michael’s voice cracks with emotion before he trails off. In this moment, Michael, who usually spits truth like fire, can’t seem to find the words. She doesn’t need to venture into his mindscape to tell that there are things he doesn’t feel free to vocalize, not with Isobel here, and not when he was in Maria’s bed an hour ago.

Alex rescues them both, cutting the tension with a joke, though he makes no move to shift his hand out from under Michael’s. “It’s not a hardship or anything. Spending time with Isobel. I hadn’t realized I was desperately missing a bitchy energy in my life, and turns out she felt the same.”

Michael barks out a laugh, “God, that's the last thing either of you need. The two of you together is honestly a frightening prospect.” It’s meant to continue the banter, but Isobel senses a wistfulness, like he’s imagining another lifetime where Alex and Isobel would’ve already spent years snarking together at family gatherings.

“We’re delightful,” Isobel interjects sleepily, putting on a show of blinking her eyes and stretching to indicate she is just now waking up. Alex and Michael hastily disentangle their hands, Michael folding his behind his head, and Alex pulling both his back to his lap. “Just because Valenti refuses to hang out with us after that one time, because he’s worried about his karma or some shit, doesn’t mean anything. He’s so sensitive.”

“Yeah, Kyle’s a delicate flower.” Alex smiles down at her. “Probably, you should try moving to your bed and seeing if you can get back to sleep now that we know that works. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, stay.” Isobel and Michael speak at the same time. Michael continues, “It’s after 2 am, man. Your cabin’s a bit of a drive from here. Isobel has like a million guest rooms, just crash.” Alex agrees, and Isobel shows him where to find the toiletries he needs, and when she comes back into the living room, she finds Michael fast asleep on the couch. She shakes her head, and covers him with a blanket, before heading to bed herself. She only gets two minutes into the ten minute warmup routine Alex brings the class through every week before she’s dead to the world.

She nearly whoops with joy when she wakes up and the clock reads 8:12 am. It’s not the longest she’s slept since Noah, but it is the latest she’s managed to sleep in the morning. She walks into the kitchen to find Michael still asleep on her couch, and a note from Alex that simply says, “Crashdown, noon?”

Michael stumbles in bleary eyed as she’s studying the note. “That from Alex?” He asks gruffly, feigning disinterest.

“Uhuh, we’re gonna meet for lunch. I’m sure you’d be welcome to join us, but you have to promise to keep the eye fucking to a minimum. I have delicate sensibilities.”

“Ha.Ha.Yeah, that’s you Iz, so easily scandalized.” He replies sarcastically before continuing evasively, “Can’t do it anyways, I have something I need to take care of today.” He kisses her cheek, then collects his things, and heads out the door, shouting back over his shoulder, “I love you. Call me if you need me today, seriously.”

When she shows up to the Crashdown for lunch, Isobel isn’t particularly shocked to overhear Liz on the phone consoling Maria over her breakup. Maybe Michael is finally ready to stop hiding.

****

A week after her anniversary, Isobel drives up to Alex’s cabin after their final self defense class. She’s ebullient after a week of pretty consistent sleep, and the fact that she was able to heal a fracture in Liz’s arm yesterday after she tumbled off the ladder of one of their many bunkers.

Alex is waiting on the porch when she arrives, and walks down the steps to meet her. “I thought you were right behind me? What took so long?”

Isobel smiles sheepishly at him. “I had to stop off to pick something up.” Alex’s eyes widen in understanding as Michael walks around the car and stands uncertainly, hands in pockets. “He’s been moping for the past week since the inevitable crash and burn of his relationship. I dragged him over here so I could knock some sense into him, literally and figuratively. Thought maybe you’d be up for helping.”

Alex’s face, incalculable at first, breaks into a slow teasing smile. “If you think you can handle it, Guerin.”

Michael grins in a way Isobel can only describe as borderline filthy. “You really think you can take me, Private?”

“Oh, I know I can. But I’m not going to. I’m just going to sit back and watch your sister show you the 14 different ways she can take you down.” Michael’s eyes widen as Isobel and Alex smirk at each other.

Ten minutes later, when Michael hits the mat after a well-placed oblique kick and grins up at her with a mix of annoyance and pride, while Alex watches on with amusement, Isobel feels a sense of hope wash over her for the first time since Max died. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be alright.

#roswell new mexico fic #isobel & alex friendship fic #malex fic #kind of #hints of it anyways #soberqueerinthewildfic #isobel evans #alex manes #michael guerin

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eveningspirit · 5 years

Text

It's Been a Long, Slow Collision (malex fanfic)

It was time. Shit happened, there was nothing left to lose anymore and, looking at the piece of shimmering glass Alex realized, that holding on to it no longer made sense. He figured it wouldn't be easy, so he made sure to take care of himself and took one of those extra anti-anxiety pills he was prescribed. Those he was supposed to take when his nerves were more rattled than usual after a nightmare or a flashback. Or before an event that might set him on edge. As for things difficult to face sober, confronting Michael Guerin with a piece of his alien spaceship scored right there at the top.

When he drove up to the airstream Alex was cool as a cucumber. The funny comparison didn't even make him quirk a corner of his lips. Emotions were all gone, save for maybe determination. He approached the trailer in a perfectly even step and knocked.

Guerin opened, disheveled as always, curls wild, tee crooked on his shoulders and torn in places. Alex wondered why he catalogued the elements of his appearance and stopped himself. Looked straight into Guerin's eyes.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," Guerin replied, somewhat surprised. They haven't seen each other for at least a week. Since Max's welcome-back party at the Crashdown. "What are you doing here?"

Alex probed his mind and found no traces of apprehension there.

"I have something to give you," he reached into the backpack, then paused. Perhaps Guerin deserved some explanation? "I should have brought it sooner, but... I don't know if you care about excuses. I can say them... or not." He pulled the thing into the daylight.

It simmered violet and vibrant green and golden.

Guerin's eyes grew wide and he reached for it with pious adoration.

"This..." he whispered, darted his eyes at Alex. "It's a... How? Where did you find it?" He finally laid his hands on the thing and lifted it to inspect closer. "This must be one of the largest intact pieces I've seen!"

"It was at the cabin. Valenti found it. I guess."

"Wow." Guerin was watching the ins and outs of the piece, tracing the golden sigils with his fingers, overwhelmed. Alex was about to leave him to it, when Guerin asked, "How long did you say you had it?"

"I didn't." Alex met his eyes head on. "I didn't say. I had it with me the day I came to talk. The day you showed me the bunker and that you were,” he made a vague, meaningless gesture, "trying to rebuild the ship down there. I was going to show this to you, but when I found out how you wanted to use it, I freaked out."

"Freaked out? Why?"

"You wanted to leave. And I didn't want you to leave."

Guerin snorted. "Ironic, huh?"

"Considering how it all turned out? Yeah."

"No. I mean, considering that you were always the one to leave. And then," Guerin chuckled mirthlessly, "you got afraid what it would feel like to be the one that's left behind, for once in your life."

A pang of anger and choking raw pain tore, for a blink of an eye, through the fog layer provided by the medications and vanished back, deep within Alex's scrunched stomach.

"For once?..." he breathed out. "This, you saying something like this, is a proof enough that we didn't know each other at all."

Guerin had the decency to cast his eyes down. He nodded, then looked back up and smiled, more with challenge than with the apparent reconciliation offer his words might suggest.

"You want to come down there?" he asked. "See how this fits?" The second sentence sounded more genuine. Then he reinforced it with, "I owe you that at least," and a flicker of tongue over his lower lip.

Alex blinked the image away.

Then he went.

The ship's console looked different without sunlight, but it was still beautiful. More pale maybe, not so lively, but the moment Guerin came in contact with it, ripples of something unearthy spread through the surface. Guerin tried to position the new piece here and there, furrowing his brow and biting his lips. Then he pulled it away, tucked against his side and scratched his head.

"Do it again," Alex whispered.

"Do what?"

"Hover it above the console."

Guerin did as he was told.

"Look."

The console all shifted. Like waves went through it, not just under the surface, but the solid glass morphed and moved. It wasn't glass, not really, the substance the console was made of resembled glass, but it was made of something else entirely, something undefinable on Earth.

Guerin turned to look at Alex, eyes bright and shining, opened his mouth to say something, but never did. Instead he furrowed his brow, his gaze focusing in the distance behind Alex's back. Somewhere far behind the wall of the bunker. Alex felt, before he heard, a distant deep rumble. Like a wave approaching, it got louder and louder and within a couple of seconds the bunker begun to shake, tools rattling, fans of the ventilation system grinding with an ear splitting noise, then the wave moved away and the rumble of the ground passed by along with it.

"What?--" Guerin gasped, wide-eyed, leaning against the table.

"Earthquake," Alex whispered, also breathing fast, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He didn't feel any agitation though, only a vague, empty tickling at the back of his head, strange and familiar at the same time. The drugs in his system taking care of excess neurotransmitters before they could flood his brain.

Guerin left the artifact where it lay on the table and jumped to the ladder to glare up the shaft. Made a face, then quickly clambered to the top, banged in the hatch several times, then cursed. Alex neared the ladder too.

"We're stuck." Guerin jumped back to floor level and marched toward the side wall with purpose, then halted as if he forgot what the purpose was. Turned to Alex, ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. "Something must have fallen on the hatch. I can't see it so I can't lift it."

"Your airstream?"

"Most likely."

They were silent for a moment, then Alex pulled out his phone.

"There's no reception here," Guerin provided, but that had no effect on Alex.

"Military issue," he muttered as an explanation, then stared blankly at signal bars indicating 'zero'. Well, that had an effect. "We have no reception."

"I literally just said that."

"No. This one should work. It has extra boost and connects not only with civilian antennas. Underground, extra mile, what have you." He walked around the bunker lifting and lowering his cell, but the bars didn't budge.

"We just had an earthquake," Guerin gave an obvious explanation, his impatience palpable. "Maybe something, you know, broke."

So they were stuck. Guerin was right, they were stuck until someone would get them out. It wasn't... scary. Or even disturbing. Not to Alex anyway, because Guerin tried his trick with the hatch one more time, then stuck some rod into one of the fans that had stopped spinning. The rod didn't make it move. Guerin cursed.

"It's gonna be okay," Alex attempted to reason. "Someone will come looking for us."

"Yeah? Like who?" Guerin snapped at him. "Did you tell anyone you were coming here? Didn't think so. Do you have an appointment with anyone in, oh, fifteen minutes maybe? To which you'd be late? No? Well, me neither." He started to pace up and down the room, tugging at his curls. Alex still didn't share in his agitation, but he was beginning to get worried.

"Won't Max or Isobel call, just to check if you're okay?"

"If I had a working phone, it would maybe give us some bonus points." His snark was cutting. Alex didn't want to fight.

"If you don't pick up, won't they get worried? Maybe come here? They know about this bunker, don't they?"

"I hope they are both okay," Guerin's attitude suddenly deflated.

He looked young, much younger than a moment before and Alex felt the urge to come over and comfort him. Hug him maybe, press their foreheads together and whisper it was all going to be alright. They were getting out of here and Max and Isobel were fine, everybody was fine and in the evening they would all laugh about it in the Pony.

But he didn't. He couldn't. Because of the Pony and Maria and everything. Guerin and Maria weren't even together anymore, but those two weeks while they had been... A lot had changed in those two weeks.

Alex didn't want to think about that time and those things. That's why he'd taken his pills earlier.

"We could try to find some other way," he looked around the bunker and spotted an old radio transmitter, "to communicate with the outside world." Picked it up, attempting to appear triumphant.

Guerin shrugged. "We could try," he didn't sound convinced.

But at least it gave them something to do for the next few minutes, as they moved Guerin's papers out of the way, set the transmitter on the big table in the middle of the room and tried to connect it with the source of energy. When it finally lit up though, all they got was static, on all frequencies.

"Shit!" Guerin threw a piece of junk against the wall.

"We need a better antenna." Alex was more in his element though. His brain had switched to a different mode as they worked and now he zoomed in on the mission. He had been in a similar situation, besides. Under fire, with far less of suitable plates, slabs, tubes, wires, scraps and junk made of metal and plastic. This was going to be a piece of cake. "Give me that," he ordered Guerin around in his own bunker.

He was so focused on his task, he barely registered what was happening around. The ability to tune out his surroundings was a blessed gift on more than one occasion and not just in the combat zone. Working on lyrics or a sweet melody while being sore from the beatings had been a perk too, long ago. Not during the beatings; indifference might just piss off Sergeant Manes more. Ancient history, Alex snorted to himself.

"See you're having a good time," Guerin spat with more anger than Alex would find justifiable.

He straightened up, screwdriver in hand. Guerin stood on the other side of the table, merely five feet away. His face was unreadable. Eyes sparkling with what they always had, fondness and longing, like nothing ever happened. And yet, his lips were twisted, nostrils wide, like in a charging bull. Posture challenging. Accusatory.

There was no love left between them.

"Yeah," Alex said, skin on his arms and back crawling. "I actually like to assemble stuff, so that it does something."

"This doesn't seem to do something, though, does it?" Guerin gestured at the dismantled radio and a net of amplifiers and conductors attached to it.

Alex gasped, the tingling in his back intensified, climbing up his spine and neck. True, the radio wasn't working. Yet. But it was going to. It had to.

"All I hear is still static," Guerin added with a hint of malice, then, "Sorry," he said in a low voice and, again with anger, "How are you so calm?"

"I'm not," Alex mouthed.

He was, he knew he appeared calm on the outside still, but inside his stomach scrunched again, with more gusto this time. Right, it was what? over an hour since he took the pills and the situation got far more aggravating than what he'd initially anticipated. He'd anticipated some confrontation about their feelings, their not-relationship or the hideous follow-up, maybe about his pettiness with the console piece. Instead they got locked up in a bunker. With no way out. And a possibly failing ventilation system. Still. It was. Actually it was less troubling than the alternative. At least they weren't talking like... talking. Alex wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous in a way, the two of them stuck here for who knew how much longer. They'd been doing a pretty good job so far, ignoring the elephant in the room.

Guerin must have read his mind.

"Isn't it the first time we're alone together since..."

"I know!" Alex cut in and glared at Guerin. Since then, since before everything changed, before Maria.

They'd even approached him together to tell him they were a couple now. Then. No face-to-face with either his best friend or his – whatever-it-was. That had been for the better actually, Alex didn't know what he would do or say if he had been alone with either of them, when they'd told him. Or after.

Or now.

"I don't..." he shook his head.

"Yeah." Guerin muttered from five feet away. "Me neither."

Ignoring. That's what they were going to do. Just keep ignoring.

Guerin climbed up the shaft again and banged in the cover. Then he came down. Paced for a couple of minutes muttering something, tried to focus on contacting his siblings through the mental link they shared, helped Alex find something that might serve as additional capacitor, then climbed back up again. Then again. And again. He tried to fight the peace of metal keeping them inside, but it wouldn't budge. At the beginning Alex assumed Guerin tried to maybe sense the layout of what was beyond and make his powers work that way. He didn't know how they worked exactly. When there was no noticeable effect though, he started to think it was pointless. He should have thought that it at least gave Guerin something to do, something to have control over.

"You really think banging it will help?" he voiced his doubts after the seventh time, but tried to say it without annoyance.

"If nothing else will!" Guerin blew up. He leaned over the table, closer to Alex this time, on the side. “What is the matter with you?” he seethed, like he was offended by something.

Alex looked up, taken-aback.

"You didn't even bat an eyelash when the earthquake hit," Guerin accused, leaning away. "You just took to fixing the radio, like it was a lazy Sunday afternoon. Even the fucking fucked ventilators do not phase you."

Oh. That. The fake calm. How was he supposed to explain that to Guerin? He wasn’t calm, not at all. He could feel emotions in his mind shift and change by the minute. His breathing became strained for a couple of seconds and he had to put effort into stabilizing it. The ventilators? Yeah, they actually did worry Alex. A little. Two of them were more-or-less working, with an occasional hiccup. One had tried to screech for a while, on-and-off, but seemed to have stopped for good now. The last one was definitely busted. It's not like the air wasn't coming through and they might suffocate, but it was getting somewhat stuffy. Like in a room with closed windows.

Except it wasn’t that. His trouble breathing wasn’t about busted ventilators. Shit. Soon he might have to tell Guerin the truth. If they were going to remain in here longer than four hours, Guerin might have a mess of a panicked Alex on his hands.

Not yet though.

"Maybe you should try to fix them," he pushed back as soon as he gained back a semblance of control. "Make yourself useful, for a change?"

"It's the worst thing that could happen to you," Guerin spat, "isn't it? Being stuck here, with me, of all people. Oh, how you hate it!"

Alex met Guerin’s eyes. Molten gold. He could drown in their deepness, he wanted to.

Hate it.

He didn’t hate it. Guerin though... Guerin wasn't afraid of the tight space, Alex realized, or the inability to get out of here; he wasn’t worried about his siblings. That was not why he was restless all this time. It was because of this – them being stuck here together. It was so obvious. Alex was shocked he hadn't seen it before.

"So that's what this is about," he whispered. "You hate being here with me."

"That's not what I said," Guerin protested.

"You didn't have to. You hate this, so you think I hate it too." Alex watched the network of cables on the table, suddenly not understanding their purpose. Only hearing ‘hate-hate-hate’ to the rhythm of his own heart. "I don't," he forced out.

"Me neither." Guerin sounded almost offended by the accusation. Surprised and wounded for certain.

"Good," Alex mouthed, just as Guerin muttered, "I just..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Nothing. Right, nothing. Alex breathed in and out. Shook his head like it could help clear his mind. Cables in front of his still mocked him with their mysterious configuration. If he concentrated though... Some screws needed fitting.

"You need any help with that?" Guerin asked.

"Actually, yeah.” Alex pointed at a bundle of wires. “Can you hold it in place, while I... No, like this.” He reached to correct the placement of Guerin’s hand and at the skin-on-skin contact he shivered.

He heard Guerin’s breath, only inches away now, hitch-up too. He turned to the side, afraid of what he’d find there and sure enough, Guerin’s eyes, Guerin’s crooked nose, Guerin’s mouth, parted slightly, were right there. His tongue left a wet trail on his lower lip and Alex had to bite on his own, not to...

And then Michael’s mouth were on his, but his hand was on Michael’s arm and it pushed, even though, when the warmth of Michael’s breath moved away, he chased after it like a parched plant, mindless and blind.

The moment was gone, though. Alex couldn’t look at Michael, he couldn’t breathe. He was dizzy and tired and his knees were weak, so he leaned on the table and wanted to let himself cry. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until they were out of here.

“Shit!” Michael’s reaction was entirely different. Again he threw something against the wall, he screamed and gestured wildly. “Will you ever let me live it down?” He spread his arms, opening up his chest to Alex. Showing his vulnerable underbelly as if saying, you can kill me, if you want.

Alex shook his head. “What do you want from me?”

“What is it you want?” Michael shot right back. “I told you what I wanted. I’ve always told you, straight up, what I wanted. I wanted to be with you,” he screamed, making the last three words each their own sentence. “Did I ever not make it clear? But you always left. Always, Alex. Ten years ago. Three times in between, without so much as a word and three times after an argument. And then, when you were apparently back in Roswell for good and I thought... I thought it was finally getting real...” Michael shook his head, unable to find words.

Alex lowered his head. Michael was right. He was leaving, time and again. He remembered very well the last time, the evening at the drive-in, and what he’d told Guerin. He was so... So confused that day. First because of Isobel almost discovering them, then because Michael obviously didn’t share his conviction that they should hide their relationship – in fact he seemed hurt by Alex expressing his desire to keep it from the world. Then, because his fears came true right as he decided he would not hide, that he would make the effort for Michael, because Michael was worth it. But his father saw them and made some comments Alex couldn’t even remember later, no matter how hard he tried. All he knew was that it made his mood plummet and then he found the first best excuse to break things off completely.

He was weak. He wasn’t worth it.

“And then you change your mind,” Guerin started talking again, when Alex didn’t respond. “Was that it? You coming to me and telling me that you shouldn’t have left, but you wanted to leave and all that nonsense, was that it? Was it supposed to mean that you wanted to stay, this time?”

Alex looked up. He nodded. He wanted to say, yes, he wanted to say something more, but words were, as usual, elusive. So he just nodded.

“And because you wanted to not-leave, I was supposed to come at your every beck and call, huh?”

“No,” this time Alex managed to utter. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It wasn’t? Then what was it? Your behavior later? Angry and jealous and pissed because I needed something else? Damn it, what if I did? I thought I needed something else, Alex. At the very least I needed to find out what the fuck I needed!”

Maria. Alex couldn’t say her name. Not in this context.

“I wanted you to be happy,” he uttered under his breath, just as Michael added, “Even if it turned out to be someone else.”

They looked at each other and before Alex managed to understand the implication of Guerin’s words, Guerin blurted, incredulous, “You what? You sure as hell weren’t showing it.”

He stood in front of Alex, his arms slack at his sides, brow furrowed, head shaking like he heard something that completely blew him out of the water.

“You acted like you were jealous and pissed off and you didn’t want to talk to anyone, not just me and Maria, but any-freakin’-one. And all you would do was lock yourself up with all the Project Shepherd stuff and sacrifice yourself for everyone by finding the way to save Max!”

“That’s not what I...” Alex shook his head. “I just needed time. And distance to process this. I... Michael, I know it was a terrible time for you,” he didn’t dare bring back the memories of Caulfield and Max’s death by saying the names out loud, “but you made it obvious I was not... Not what you needed, so research was all I could do to make it up to you somehow and you don’t even know what it was all like for me.”

“Then tell me. That’s just what I’m asking, Alex. Tell me. What do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Bullshit!”

The word reverberated in the silence that fell, like a slap to the face or a hit to the stomach. Or maybe Michael’s powers made everything inside the bunker rattle with his fury.

Bullshit.

Alex found himself fighting for breath. He was leaning on the table and forcing each inhale, trying to count to five, to four, to three at least, but his lungs weren’t cooperative, pushing the air faster than he could take another breath.

He was shaking.

“Alex.”

He was dizzy and he was shaking and he couldn’t stand, because his knees buckled and he was going down like a stone.

“Alex!”

Something caught him and slowed his descent, but he was still dizzy and floating and Michael’s face over his was a blur. Two hot streams of something hot rolled down his temples when he blinked and his vision became clearer. His breathing was coming back to normal, but his head felt empty, like a barrel. Light like a barrel too when he moved it from right to left and back again.

“Alex?”

“I’m fine,” he replied automatically.

“Like hell you are,” Michael breathed out. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore. Alex closed his eyes. Maybe he would be able to sleep now that all went quiet.

Just for a moment.

Just for a breath.

He turned his face into Michael’s warmth, burrowed it in Michael’s shirt and dug his fingers into the fabric trying to pull him closer, closer, so close they would become one. Michael’s arms wrapped him in tight and it felt so good, so good.

Just one more second.

Even if it’s all a lie.

“Come on, man,” Michael said, too soon.

Alex pushed himself away and sat straight on the ground.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he tried to scramble to his feet.

“It’s alright,” Michael’s arms were around him again and Alex found himself wanting them to stay like this, but at the same time not wanting Michael to touch him, because it made him weak, unable to resist this pull, and at the same time still needing him for support, because his legs were made of gel-o and he hated this weakness, emotional and physical alike, hated his body, hated his mind, hated himself so much he wanted to vanish into thin air. To never have existed.

“Sorry,” he muttered again, biting back a sob and making himself, forcing himself with everything he had, to push this weakness deep, deep down, where it couldn’t reach him. He knew how to be strong. He had been strong all his life. He was strong, until he wasn’t and he needed those damn pills to stay strong, but even they were failing him now.

“Alex, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Michael whispered, his hand still on Alex’s back, its warmth reminding him of his weakness and his worthlessness and he straightened his shoulders, because he had control over his body once more.

“Yes, I do,” he huffed out a slow exhale. “And it’s gonna get worse.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Panic attacks. They’re gonna get worse if we don’t get out of here soon. I’m not calm, Michael, not at all. I’ve taken pills and they have been taking care of most of it, but I think I’m all out now. Or, on the verge, I don’t know. So it’s gonna get worse.”

“Shit,” Michael said and tried to turn on the radio, but it still didn’t emit anything other than white noise. “What do you need me to do?” he asked.

Alex looked at the tangled wires and pieces of metal, but figuring it all out required too much effort and he was spent. It was so hard to gather thoughts and complete ideas. He picked the piece he’d been working on before this argument started, but he couldn’t remember what he’d intended to do with it. “We could,” he started, uncertain, but Michael interrupted him.

“No. Not that.” He pushed his hand down and took it in his own. “What do you need me to do when you... When you feel worse?”

“I, no, I don’t.” Alex glared at him and shook his head. “I’ll fight it. I know how to fight it.”

“You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you.”

“No. No, I don’t want you to put up with this. I don’t want you to have to...”

“Listen to me, you moron.” Michael grabbed his face between both his palms. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to. Geez, me and Maria didn’t last two weeks, because... Because simple and quiet was not what I wanted. It doesn’t mean I want hurt and pain either, it’s not like that, I don’t want you to be in pain and I don’t want to suffer either, but. But I want you. You and everything that entails. All of it. So. I’ll rephrase my question now. Do you want me?”

“Yes,” Alex’s mouth responded before his mind caught up. It was like instinct, one obvious answer in his life. He wanted Michael.

“But.” It was complicated. “I’m.” He was complicated. "How can you want me?”

“Shut up,” Michael replied and placed a soft, delicate kiss on his lips. A kiss that was warm and safe and good.

He was wanted. Unbelievable as it was.

He was wanted...

#alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell nm #malex fic #sorry about this #i don't know what i'm doing #evening stories #long slow collision

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malexfan10 · 5 years

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Vlamis, Malex & Roswell drama

Hope everyone in California is doing OK after the earthquake and aftershocks.

This is kind of long. Sorry in advance!

So yesterday was one of those days. I was disappointed like many others but now a day has passed. Let’s just step back and take a deep breath. If we get ourselves completely torn up every time something new like this podcast comes out, we won’t last the month let alone the next 6 or through next season!

M&M is happening. I don’t like it. You don’t like it. None of us likes it. But it’s happening & there’s nothing we can do but suffer through. Some may choose to step away, others may choose to brave it out. Understandable either way.

Regarding the latest podcast, Vlamis called Alex a dick and thinks we’ll all fall in love with Candy.

OK, first point. We will not fall in love with Candy. Sorry, Vlamis, but no matter how hard you or Carina try, we’re not getting on the bitter Candy bandwagon and here’s why:

- the buildup/foundation simply sucked

- the deep feelings sprang out of nowhere

- the story in general was a mess

- no one in their late twenties/early thirties indulges in love triangles (it’s not Gossip Girl or OTH for God’s sake)

- they’re dragging Alex under the bus to let M&M shine

Those above, plus others, are all reasons why we don’t support M&M and won’t fall in love with them either. We’re in too deep with Malex at this point. They’re permanently cemented in our hearts and there’s no going back (unless there’s some major character assassination of Guerin next year where we just won’t want Alex with him anymore). But we’re not there yet! Malex all the way!

Him calling Alex a dick was sad to hear. All of these characters have suffered in their own ways on the show. Isobel’s very foundation was rocked by Noah. She was violated and used. Kyle discovered his father not only had another child but was involved in the alien conspiracies as well. Liz discovered why her sister really died and who was involved covering it up. What she and her father endured in the wake of Rosa’s death was heartbreaking. Michael felt abandoned his whole life, first through foster care and then by the one person he truly loved. Alex having reasons to leave are a separate point – it doesn’t negate the fact that Michael was still left heartbroken. Let’s not forget Caulfield. Finally, there’s Alex. The boy who was bullied, suffered through parental abuse, homophobia, ultimately forced into choosing a life in the military as his only escape, experienced years of war, became disabled and most likely has PTSD only to come back to his hometown and discover the man he loved was not human at all. Ran out of breath just writing that!

To say that Alex has suffered greatly on this show is an understatement and to label the way he works through his trauma as dickish behavior is grating. People deal with trauma in different ways. Some shut down, detach themselves from anything remotely emotional in an effort to cope. Others talk through their problems with people they trust or professionals. Some lash out, others swallow their pain. We can’t blame someone for the way they handle and react to trauma as everyone experiences it differently. For Vlamis to call Alex a dick…I really wish he hadn’t said that. Words can be hurtful and leave bad impressions and both of his comments have done that (toxic is the other).

But do I think Vlamis should be “cancelled” or ostracized by the fandom because of a few choice words? No, I don’t. Sometimes our words run away from us. Calling the Malex relationship “toxic” and Alex a “dick” were both regrettable and insensitive. But should the man be dragged over hot coals because of it? I don’t think so.

We have to remember that M&M is happening whether we like it or not. It’s the showrunner’s choice. We don’t agree with it. In fact, we actively dislike it but it’s happening none the less. Carina has shown us that this is her show (which I can understand, to a degree) and that her opinion is the only one that counts (I vehemently disagree). He has to promote what’s happening with his character. That part’s understandable as much as I detest the storyline. I just wish he would use a bit more tact when he speaks next time.

But I do think it comes down to not realizing what he says may leave a bad impression. I don’t think he’s a bad person. In fact, I think he’s rather lovely. Remember, he’s still that same adorable curly haired guy who keeps giving us these amazing Vlamburn moments. Just a few days ago, we had that “date” and “Tyler, will you hold my hand”. He’s loveable. Just perhaps someone should advise him to consider his words before he speaks and maybe sometimes put a cork in it! Do I agree with him labeling Alex as a dick? No, nope, nada. Do I think the Malex relationship was toxic? I hate that word because of the negative connotations connected with it. But in the end, he’s still one half of a pairing I love with all my heart. I may not agree with some things he’s said or some of the character’s actions, but no one’s perfect, him included.

Can I just add, it’s uncool to attack an actor on Twitter or some other platform. We can disagree with things people say, have mature discussions and provide criticism without swearing them out. We’ve been burnt before and don’t appreciate the run around, being lied to or having a carrot dangled in front of us. But we can also express our opinions in a more eloquent manner because ultimately, that’s how we want Malex and the Malex fandom to be seen.

They can keep trying to paint Alex as the bad guy to prop Candy but look out, writers! It’s having the exact opposite effect! We’re standing even more united for Alex Manes and yes, Malex as well.

So try to hang in there! Don’t let this show stress you out. We fell in love with Malex for many reasons. Let’s keep remembering what those reasons are. Let’s remember all the amazing Vlamburn content we’ve had. Let’s continue to use social media to show our dislike for this narrative, for M&M, for our irritation of Alex shouldering the blame. Hopefully, the more we discuss it, the more the writers will finally understand. Let’s also hope that Vlamis, as loveable as he is, takes a step back and realizes that words can have consequences and alienating the majority of the fandom to promote his latest storyline can be hurtful to his fans and ultimately not the best move.

Finally, one other thing that’s really annoying me is all the Malex moments going to M&M. Vlamis said something about him wanting to “play guitar for this woman” or some other nonsense. What happened to that moment being for Michael only? You can’t see me, but I’m rolling my eyes so hard right now!

UFO Emporium, guitar...all these moments going to M&M and he thinks we’re going to fall in love with Candy? Buddy, love you, but what kind of Kool-Aid are you drinking? You guys are just giving us more reasons NOT to like them!

Fingers crossed these next few months go smoother than the ones we’ve had since April. I keep thinking that once Tyler starts interviewing and promoting, we’ll feel more at ease. Also, what is this, the Guerin & Candy show? Why is no one else interviewing, like let’s say Jeanine? Is she not the main character? Didn’t Max die? LOL

P.S. On a totally different note, I recently started watching Shameless. 9 seasons have aired and season 10 is coming soon. Let me just say that I fell in love with Mickey Milkovich and Gallavich (Mickey & Ian). Not sure if anyone has watched the show but man, was I blown away. One of the best character arcs I have honestly ever seen was crafted for Mickey. Hate the showrunners for the terrible writing towards the end (what else is new) but at least the characters had a mini reunion last season & both are coming back next year. If you haven’t watched it, I highly recommend it!

#malex #Roswell Nm #roswell new mexico #michael vlamis #michael guerin #roswell alex and michael #roswell nm season 2 #alex manes

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notsowrites · 3 years

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to stay here forever

this is a prompt from @dreamthingpdf “if Alex goes undercover into deep sky Michael will be worried about him and possibly move his airstream onto Alex’s lot”

(and i apologize because i think this only fills like half the prompt, but it’s 1200 words of michael missing alex, and malex being... malex)

----------

Moving his trailer in front of Alex's house was an easy decision. He'd made a similar choice all those months ago for Maria, when she'd been sleeping at the Pony, waiting for Mimi to come home. Now though, Michael had a vague idea of where Alex was - he just didn't have specifics. There were no details to be shared, because Alex was off the grid.

And Michael hated it.

It reminded him too much of the days, nights, months, and years he'd spent worrying about Alex while he was active combat. Though these days, it wasn't a secret no one talked about, he could share his frustrations with Isobel, or let Maria tease him about missing Alex. Even if right now, he and Alex weren't anything - friends, maybe - there was still a stubborn part of him that remained hopeful. That perhaps one day the two of them could find their way back to each other.

Alex leaving on his crusade to clean up his father's messes had aggravated Michael, that even in death, Alex couldn't be completely free of the man. And he'd seen the determination in Alex's eyes, the chance one-up his father and do better, to learn more. And Michael knew there was no stopping him - Alex was going to do what he felt was right.

But it'd been months, and the radio silence was starting to wane on him. Michael found that immersing himself in Alex's life, staying outside his house, watering his plants and maintaining the yard while he was gone only made him miss Alex more. Having a key tested his restraint with each passing day as he resisted making himself at home in Alex's space.

"Doesn't Maria usually do this for you?"

"I don't want to add to the things she has to worry about - she's already dealing with her mom, and controlling her visions."

For weeks, Michael has clocked the guitar propped up against the wall in Alex's office, the soft black case and it's I'M WITH THE BAND sticker all too familiar. But he leaves it alone, doesn't give in to the itch to pick it up and play. After all, he made the decision to give it back to Alex. To tell him be didn't want it, even when Alex thought he'd want to play again.

And Michael hates that he was right. He misses music, he misses playing. He misses the low vibration in the tips of his fingers as he played the chords. But it's been too long, and he's here, surrounded by Alex's life, and he picks up the guitar case, gently placing it on the desk to unzip it.

The guitar, of course, looks exactly how Michael remembers, and a quick run of his fingers across the strings confirms it's been well cared for over the years. The strings are in tune, nothing needs to be tightened or adjusted, and Michael lifts it out to hold in his hands, to remember the feeling of playing, to allow himself to get lost in the melody of the music.

He hums a song, fragments of a tune he doesn't know the full words to. But that's okay, he doesn't need them. It's enough to close his eyes and remember that day, and how far he's come since then.

"Did you memorize the part you heard?"

Alex's voice startles him, and Michael realizes how distracted he'd allowed himself to become as he played, internally cursing how dangerous such an action could be, and he moves to slide the guitar back in it's case.

"Shit," Alex says, stepping towards him. "You didn't have to stop."

Michael shrugs. "I never heard the whole thing."

Alex looks good - his hair is longer than Michael remembers, but its disheveled like Alex's been running his fingers through it without a care in the world for appearances. He's wearing a black leather jacket, and a grey knit sweater underneath, and Michael can't help but wonder if it feels as soft as it looks, if he reached out and touched it, if Alex would let him. If it wasn't constantly playing on repeat in his head that they aren't anything at the moment, Michael would kiss him.

Instead he zips up the guitar case, and returns it to it's place.

"You moved your trailer?"

"It was easier."

Alex hums, glancing outside the window before looking back at him. "The couch there is a fold-out, you know. You didn't have to go through that trouble for me."

"It wasn't - I wanted to." He stands up, his gaze shifting past Alex. He'll leave, get out of Alex's way. Surely he's tired and wants to rest after whatever he was dealing with for so long, and Michael won't be in his way. Alex can decide what to share with him, whatever he's learned. "I'll just get out of your way."

Alex is quiet as he grabs his hat from the kitchen counter and makes a beeline for the front door, nearly tripping on the duffle bag on the floor in the hallway. It's his own fault really, he's not looking where he's going, and he doesn't belong here in Alex's space, when Alex is here. He's overstepped his welcome because he wasn't meant to do more than water the plants.

"Michael," Alex calls out just as he's pulling the door open, appearing in the hallway. "Don't you want to hear what I found?"

"I - yeah, but - you just got back. Don't you want some time alone?"

He watches Alex shake his head, and take a step towards him.

"I've been alone for months now." Michael hadn't considered the idea that Alex was tired of being alone. "And-"

Alex pauses abruptly, as though he had second thoughts about what he wanted to say. But the action only made Michael more curious.

"Alex?"

He watches as Alex fidgets for a moment, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, shifting on his good foot.

"The house smells like you. When I walked in, it was like-" Alex pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "It made me happy to be home."

He has to leave. He needs to walk out that door, because Alex can't just say things like that and think it's okay. That it doesn't hit Michael straight in the heart to know that Alex associates that with him, and something good. He can't do that - because it's hope, and hoping for anything has never led to a good result for him.

But fuck, does he want.

"What are we doing, Alex?"

Unconsciously, they drift together in the space of the hallway, until they're close enough for Alex to take the hat off Michael's head and drop it on the table next to them.

"I did a lot of thinking these last couple months, and I want to tell you about it. And I want us to-" Alex stops, a hand reaching forward, fingers gently pressed against his chest near his heart, the uncertainty evident, as though he's not certain he's allowed to touch. "It's still you I want to be with, Michael."

Caution be damned, Michael leans forward and kisses Alex, pressing their lips together and remembering how perfect it feels to do so. His arms snake around Alex's waist holding onto him, pulling him close, as he feels Alex's hands slide up his neck into his hair. It's perfect, it's everything, and he doesn't want it to stop. But he has to, they have to, because he knows that as nice and easy as it would be to fall into bed together, to strip themselves of their clothes and feel skin against skin - they need to take this slow. They need to talk.

No more old patterns to fall into.

Michael pulls his lips away from Alex's, but keeps their foreheads pressed tight.

"Tell me what you've been up to."

He sees the upturn of Alex's mouth in the corner of his eye. "Will you stay the night?"

His reply is easy. "Yes."

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #notso writes fanfic

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lambourngb · 3 years

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a skeleton of something more [3/7]

previously here. malex wip based on the trailer for season 3, some spoilers and my own speculation. I’m failing at the daily serial because keeping to 2K is impossible, but hoping to have it finished by next week.

Warnings: NSFW content, not forrest long friendly

*** NOW ****

Alex shut off the streaming hot water reluctantly, and shifted back on the new shower bench to lean his head against the tile.

His fingertips were pruned from the long shower, his attempt at using the scalding water to try to wash away the dirt he felt covered in after being away from Roswell for so long. Pointless endeavour, when he knew the filth was more than skin deep at this point. It was in his bones. It was in his blood, the way the Manes name still opened the worst doors. Alex touched the corners of his smile with his hands, looking for the edge of the mask he wore around Deep Sky and finding only the bristle of his beard growing in, a very late five o’clock shadow.

The steam of the shower was slowly fading, bringing back the visual details of his naked body. His stump was slightly swollen, the marks of wearing his prosthesis for too long, but it was hard to feel safe without it on, doing the work he was doing around even more paranoid men than he was. Three years past his injury, the scars were still ugly to his eyes as he cupped his fingers over the end of his right leg, but time had faded the lines from an angry red to a wizened white.

Alex hoped that time would do the same to his soul.

He moved his hand from his stump, over to his thighs to stretch the lingering soreness from his legs. He ignored where his cock laid, half-full of blood from the simple pleasure of a hot shower; the desire to let himself feel good was far from his mind. Instead he focused on returning functionality to his body after the long, cramped ride on that bus. That was the physical challenge, the emotional one would be trickier.

It helped that he knew Michael was still there, in his house, probably fixing something else that had been neglected during Alex’s time away. Finding something that was broken or damaged, and then making it whole just with his touch, that was what Michael did naturally. Alex was no exception to that.

Every muscle was loose finally, thanks to the improved water pressure beating on the knots of tension until they turned into putty. Beyond the simple improvement of the plumbing, Michael had also relocated the shower taps to the wall next to the bench, so he could sit safely and turn on the water without balancing on one foot in the front of the stall.

New grab bars lined the bathroom walls as well. Alex had worried about the expense until he recognized the chrome and black rails from the boxes he had bought a while ago, before shuttling them off to the garage. Michael had apparently found the abandoned project and had finished it for him. The longer the trips he made away from Roswell were, the more involved the upgrades Michael made in his absence. He would need to prepare a cover story in case Forrest noticed the changes, a renovated bathroom went far beyond changing out bulbs in a light fixture.

He was getting closer to ending the sham relationship with Forrest, but he wasn’t there quite yet. His first night back in Roswell he had managed to steer Forrest away from his house and more importantly, his bed, but that was only a temporary reprieve. Tomorrow it would all begin again, playing the role of a grieving son looking to ‘understand’ his father, docilely following Forrest’s lead in ‘discovering’ the alien threat, letting the other man comfort him, but this time, that would all happen in front of Michael.

Michael knocked on the half-open bathroom door to get his attention, before stepping inside carrying a bath towel. “Are you still alive in there?”

“I am, but I want to marry this shower,” and you, he finished silently. Michael looked pleased by the comment as he stood outside the glass doors, waiting patiently as Alex pulled himself up from the bench and carefully hopped toward him. As he drew closer, the proud expression changed to one of open hunger as Michael took in his nakedness, cataloging the changes on his body. Downtime while he had been away from Roswell had often been filled with trips to the gym, exercising to work through his frustration at the slow pace of developments regarding Deep Sky. Weight lifting and core training had kept his hands away from his phone when the desire to check in with Michael took hold.

There was only so many times he could pass off a call to Michael about his mail or paying a bill for his house.

Alex held out his hand for the towel, while Michael stared at him, his gaze almost physical as he lingered over the swells of muscle. He snapped his fingers at Michael to break the hypnosis.

At the sound, Michael blinked, but then avoided his hand to wrap the towel around Alex himself. Warmth from the soft linen enveloped Alex, a sign the towel was fresh from the drier. He closed his eyes under Michael’s safe hold, enjoying the blatant pampering as Michael gently patted Alex’s wet skin dry. “I don’t mind sharing you with the shower, especially if it means you’re not wearing clothes,” he murmured in Alex’s ear, nosing the lock of wet hair away.

Shivering under the ghost of Michael’s lips, Alex felt something start to knit and heal inside him, blanketed by more than just the towel. Love. Feeling more like himself, Alex teased Michael back, “You could have joined me.”

“It was tempting, very tempting, but then who would have made dinner if I had taken you up on that offer?” Michael tucked the towel around Alex, and then offered his arm as a support while Alex hopped toward the pile of folded sweats to wear.

“I have a lot of appetites, Michael, food is barely in the top five. And I can eat later, after you leave,-” Alex held his clothes in his hand, not moving to get dressed just yet.

“You can, but you won’t eat. As soon as I walk out that door, I know you’re going to park yourself in front of your computer and spend the rest of the night hacking, just like you’ve done nearly every night since this started.” Michael waited with a raised eyebrow for Alex to deny it.

Caught by both the frustration that Michael was right and by the ticking clock in his head that counted down the end of this precious time together, Alex conceded. He pulled his sweatshirt down over his head grumpily, “I didn’t spend every night hacking.”

“Just the nights when you weren’t with Forrest Long.” Michael said it quietly, turning away to hang up the wet towel.

Alex tucked his crutches under his arms, before reaching out to catch Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything, you know that, right? It’s just…friction.” He studied Michael’s face, worried that perhaps his patience with everything was wearing thin.

Over the last year, as he moved deeper and deeper into the circle of men that made up Deep Sky, Michael had been his lifeline to his real identity. A voice on the line, late at night, warm and beloved, reminding Alex what was important and keeping him grounded. During the day, his resolve had felt less certain. He had forced himself to echo the words of Jesse Manes to curry favor, ducking his reflection in the mirror when the hateful words started to come easier and easier to him. Then there was the feeling he had, when he had to accept Forrest’s offers to visit him in Los Alamos, the way he had felt weirdly relieved to see a familiar face, even if it was someone he couldn’t trust.

Hearing Michael’s voice led him back to himself, and then little by little, the updates were less mission-related and more personal. It had led them back to each other. By the second month, Michael had stopped dancing around things, admitting to Alex just how much he missed him and by the third month, Alex was slipping away to meet with him at half-way destinations to seal his words with actions.

It was reminiscent of his early days in the Air Force, finding Michael in out-of-the-way places where no one knew them. Back then, Alex had DADT and military physicals to dodge. Michael had to take care in leaving no marks on Alex’s body, while Alex had had no such restriction. Michael would leave those encounters, mauled with love bites and fucked thoroughly, while Alex stayed as pristine as his neatly pressed uniform. Eleven, twelve years on, the need for discretion had changed, from the military to Forrest Long.

That was the elephant in the room. Alex was still having sex with Forrest, mostly when he couldn’t avoid it with a trip out of town, like when he accompanied Forrest to Deep Sky owned properties. It was just friction, putting his body in motion to do a job, much like he had when he had deployed abroad. He had lost any amount of shame for what he was doing to the other man after the first time, when he had found a detailed write-up about his own visit to the Long Farm that Forrest had filed and sent to the mysterious leader of Deep Sky.

“I know.” Michael replied, his smile weak but real as Alex brought him closer for a slow, thorough kiss.

Alex inhaled the scent of rain into his nose as Michael melted in his arms and the kiss deepened between them. This was the opposite of friction, as they slid easily together in the doorway of the bathroom, until Alex’s stomach betrayed him thoroughly and growled. Michael broke away with a laugh, and Alex noted with relief that his earlier fragility had completely vanished from his eyes, as he headed toward the kitchen, “Come on, I made you your favorite for dinner, spicy tomato soup.”

“With strips of cheese toast?”

Michael looked offended at the question. “Of course.”

That was proof that Michael had been listening to him closely during their late night conversations, the way the subject migrated from business to the personal, until Alex had flat out whined over how terrible the food was at one of the Deep Sky outfits. “Forget looking for aliens, they should look for a new chef.” And then they were off and running about comfort food, with Michael sharing his fondness for canned spaghettios, they tasted fine cold. Sharing his own fond memory from childhood of his mother making soup as a rare show of maternal care. Melted cheese dripped over cut up toast, then dipped in the tomato soup.

The clock was still ticking in his head, counting down the end of this brief interlude of happiness. Alex laid back on his couch with a tray of soup on his lap and tried to soak in every minute. The thrill of sharing a meal together, sitting side by side on his couch with the evening news droning on in the background. It was a type of domesticity that he never thought he had wanted until Michael. His thoughts turned away from the wholesome toward the carnal as he watched Michael pucker his lips together to blow on the steaming bowl.

The food was delicious, but that was a distracting sight for anyone, let alone someone who knew just what Michael’s mouth was capable of doing.

Michael flashed a wicked smile when he caught Alex staring, picking up his strip of toast to dip in his soup and then licked it indecently clean. The perfect bow of his mouth around his food, his tongue chasing his lips for every drop of spilled soup had Alex shifting on the couch. The production lasted until Michael hit a hot place in his bowl, squeaking in shock, sending Alex into a peal of laughter at the affronted look on his face.

“Fuck, that’s hot!”

“Yes it was.”

“Asshole, I meant the soup!”

Alex laughed long and hard, his head tipped back against the couch, and after a moment, Michael joined him. Tears came to his eyes, the laughter set off each time they looked at each other. There was a point, where Alex realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that, at least not in the last year outside of talking to Michael on the phone.

It was worth it. All of it. Infiltrating Deep Sky, spending half of his time around people who would cheerfully murder an alien, even using sex to get information, the price was not too steep to pay if it meant he could protect this moment, preserve it and repeat it forever. To see laugh lines around Michael’s mouth, instead of the press of fear, he would fuck the Devil himself if it meant Michael was safe.

He slowly sobered on the couch, his laughter gone at the thought of losing this. Michael placed their empty dishes in the kitchen and then drew Alex’s foot into his lap to rub. “I can practically see the gears turning now. Relax, okay? Watching the clock doesn’t help.”

“I know,” Alex agreed quietly, pressing his foot into Michael’s grip. “I’m feeling a little guilty here, with all this pampering.”

Michael dug his thumbs into Alex’s instep, drawing a loud groan of appreciation as he worked on releasing the knots of stress. Too much time in combat boots, the calluses were thick and tough under Michael’s hands but he kept rubbing regardless.

“If that guilt motivates you into taking better care of yourself-”

“I know, I am trying. But what about you?” Alex gestured toward Michael’s face with his own look of judgment, “are you sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

“I’m also trying. It will be better once this is over. Once you get to meet the head of Deep Sky, and hack him, we’ll both sleep better.”

“If it’s ever over. I’m starting to think the leader of Deep Sky is like the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Instead of pulling on the threads of pessimism, Michael tugged on Alex’s ankle as he crawled closer to him on the couch. As a subject change, it was a welcome one to Alex. Why dwell on the future, it was better to enjoy the present. Michael’s hands smoothed over the soft fleece of the sweatpants, sending a thrill of excitement through Alex. He slipped down on the seat to allow Michael room.

“Is it okay to pamper you a little more?” Michael asked, his eyes dark as his fingers slipped inside the waistband of Alex’s sweats. He teased at the taut muscles, stroking his fingers over the soft rasp of hair trailing downward.

“What did you have in mind?”

“When’s the last time someone’s sucked this big dick of yours?”

There was a dark hint of teasing in Michael’s voice, he was daring Alex to say a name. Forrest’s name. It was the type of playful provocation they could use with each other now, safely, the result of their late night phone calls to each other. When time was valued, what was the point of secrets between them?

Alex licked his lips absently, giving Michael a thorough head to toe look of consideration, before answering honestly, “It was in Santa Fe. At the Silver Saddle Motel. A very hot cowboy sucked me until I was hard, and then rode my dick all night long.”

Michael blinked, not expecting that answer, but pinked in pleasure. “Oh…well then, you’ve been deprived because that was months ago.” He pulled down on Alex’s sweats, letting the band of elastic tuck neatly under his balls and sat back to admire the view. Alex shifted under his eyes, his cock straining upward as Michael bent his head down. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s a short guy, all of this probably doesn’t fit in his mouth,” Michael commented, wrapping his palm around Alex’s cock firmly.

“Yeah,” Alex gasped, hitching up into Michael’s grip, “small mouth, it’s hard to even kiss, impossible to fuck-” His voice gave out as Michael licked the bead of pre-cum with tip of his tongue before stretching his mouth wide. There was a way that Michael approached cock-sucking that Alex could never get over. The look of hunger and that deep breath he always took, as if he had to hold himself back to keep from gorging himself on Alex’s cock.

Alex had been deprived. Very deprived.

Slowly Michael slid his lips down on Alex’s cock, taking him deep into his mouth. His tongue, warm and firm, dragged downward. Alex cried out in pleasure, it felt so good, his hips rocking upward imperceptibly as his iron-strong control was rocked by Michael. He kept his eyes trained on Michael’s mouth, the reddening stretch of his lips wrapped tightly around his cock. Michael looked up, catching his eye and then bobbed his mouth downward.

Reaching downward, Alex placed his hand against Michael’s jaw and traced his thumb around the edge of his mouth. “So good, you take me so well, Michael.”

The praise had Michael blinking in pleasure before he redoubled his efforts in sucking. Alex gasped again, sinking deeper into Michael’s throat until his lips were kissing the sparse hair, down to the root. Fuck. He was ready to come already. Worse than the clock sweeping toward the end of the evening, was his body ready to end it now.

“Close, I’m gonna-” Alex warned, his hands going to Michael’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Michael off of him, or keep Michael in place to feed him his cock in case he backed away as Alex teetered on the edge of orgasm. His grip clutched uselessly on him, but Michael showed no signs of stopping his efforts.

Kicking at the couch cushion, he lost the fight to hold back, as he felt his cock hit the back of Michael’s throat. There was a tightening around him, throat muscles working hard to swallow, and then Michael wrapped his hand back around the base of Alex’s cock to stroke him in time with his sucking. His free hand gently squeezed Alex, before rubbing a knuckle along the seam of his balls to his perineum. The outside touch against his prostate was enough to have Alex coming hard down Michael’s throat.

God it was so good. Michael knew every place to touch him. He knew to keep his mouth on Alex as he came, swallowing his release sloppily, until come and saliva leaked from his lips. It was over far too fast, but Michael held on until Alex felt the tears of overstimulation burn in his eyes. Slowly Michael softened his lips, letting Alex’s spent cock slip lazily from his messy mouth and then met Alex’s gaze with a knowing glint.

Michael knew exactly how depraved he looked.

It was too soon to get hard again, but Alex felt the twinge of it as he stared at Michael. His hands were greedy, cupping Michael’s face between them before wiping up the spill from Michael’s lips with his thumb. Two could play at that game, he thought as he brought it to his mouth.

“Fuck,” Michael swore softly, “Look at you, tasting yourself.”

“I’d rather taste you,” Alex patted the couch he was laying down on and straightened his disheveled sweatpants. “Take off those jeans and wrap those great thighs of yours around my head and let me suck you.”

“Actually, I’d rather take you to bed.”

Alex glanced at the clock behind Michael. It was close to midnight. He knew based on experience that Forrest would be by in the morning with coffee, before Alex was fully awake. It was a transparent way of trying to catch him off guard, to see if Alex would slip up with news about Michael, or any other alien. After every short trip back to Roswell, the other man had made sure to find an excuse to be in Alex’s house.

“I know I can’t stay, but I don’t want to leave.”

“I never want you to leave either.” Alex chewed on his lower lip, as Michael waited. Sensing his advantage, he tilted his head seductively, spilling his curls over one eye and then made a transparent pleading face at Alex. Laughing, Alex conceded, “Okay, okay, you can stay for a little while. Help me to bed, and set an alarm.”

***

#malex fic #roswell new mexico #not forrest long friendly #alex goes undercover #season 3 spoilers

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