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jule1122 · 1 year

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Malex Fic - Just cut me down the middle and count my rings

This is my Malex Secret Santa gift for @winged-fool who asked for Dark Malex. I hope you enjoy my take on just how far Alex will go for love. Happy Holidays.

Fic is canon divergent from 3x11 and features descriptions of murder (including a different death for Jones) and also sex.

I was lucky enough to have a wonderful beta in @burntotears.

Title is from Keepin’ It Real by Barenaked Ladies.

Just cut me down the middle and count my rings on AO3

Summary: “I’ve killed for you, Michael, more than once. And I’ll do it again without hesitation. As long as you come back to me, I don’t care who you kill to get here.”

Alex reveals this simply, easily, like it’s something Michael already knows, like it’s part of who they are. It’s not a confession, but it should be, and all Michael can do is stand there and stare at Alex with his mouth open.

NOW

“So that’s the plan,” Michael zooms in on the map on the tablet, their staging positions and approach marked in red. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Alex replies with a frown, “the plan would be better if I was a part of it.”

“Alex,” Michael starts to protest with a sigh; they’ve been over this.

“I know,” Alex interrupts. “Aliens only. I understand, but I don’t like it. But other than that, you need to change your approach. Come from this direction instead.” Alex points to the opposite side of the map from where Michael had marked.

Michael hands him a stylus and watches as Alex makes the adjustments he wants. “I’ll let Max and Isobel know.” He forwards them the updated map.

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” Alex takes Michael’s hands and squeezes them gently. “Jones underestimates you−all of you−but especially you, Michael. Use that to your advantage.”

“Yeah,” Michael nods, but his head is already spinning, thinking ahead to all the things that can go wrong, or right, depending on how you look at it.

“Hey,” Alex drops one of Michael’s hands to cup his face. “You’re coming home to me when this is all over. We defeated one evil father; we can do it again.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Michael admits. Alex frowns, but doesn’t say anything so he tries to explain. “We’re starting something good here, finally after all these years, but it’s just the beginning. I don’t want to lose it before we get to see what it becomes, before we even get to have our first date. I’m afraid beating Jones will end us before we get more than this, before I really get to love you like I want to.”

Alex’s frown deepens. “Why would it? I love you, Michael. Nothing is going to change that.”

“Jones fights dirty. Max can’t; he’ll probably challenge Jones to an honorable duel and be shocked when Jones double-crosses him. Dallas is a preacher, and Isobel is just learning to fight. If we get backed into a corner, I’ll have to be the one to take him out,” Michael explains. “How are you going to look at me if I have to kill my own father? Will you still love me then?”

“Of course I will,” Alex steps closer to Michael, still gripping one of his hands and stroking Michael’s cheek with his thumb, “I’ve killed for you, Michael, more than once. And I’ll do it again without hesitation. As long as you come back to me, I don’t care who you kill to get here.”

THEN

Greg stays as long as he can, but after the funeral he has to go back to the reservation, to his work and his life. So in the end, with Flint still in the hospital and Clay absent as always, Alex is left handling the aftermath of Jesse’s death. He throws out the uneaten casseroles, deals with the lawyer, puts the house on the market and tries to move on. Condolence cards keep coming, but he tosses them in a pile, unread, not interested in sympathy for a man who should have been killed years ago.

After a few weeks, Alex decides to just throw them out−fuck etiquette. But he notices one of the envelopes is sealed with a symbol he’s only seen in Project Shepherd files. He goes through the pile and finds another eight marked with the same symbol. All the cards are similar − condolences on Jesse’s death and an invitation to discuss the future of Project Shepherd. It’s not worded quite so obviously, but Alex knows how to read between the lines and recognizes the email addresses left as contacts as being part of the restricted server his father used.

He’s sure the cards are meant for Flint, but Flint is out of commission and Alex recognizes an opportunity when he sees one. He takes a few days to consider his options then sets up his own email address that looks like it comes from inside Project Shepherd, but it is more secure and completely untraceable. Alex sends the same email to all nine contacts:

Thank you for your condolences during this difficult time. The loss of our leader is disheartening, but our work is too important to abandon. With the advanced threats against us, modernization is our only hope. We should meet soon so all physical and digital files you possess can be turned over for security purposes. Centralization of data is imperative for your safety and the future of this project. If there is anyone else I should contact regarding our path forward, please include their contact information in your reply.

The responses are swift and tellingly similar. Everyone seems eager to hand their part in Project Shepherd over, and they universally state that while they know others are involved, their only contact has been with members of the Manes family. Alex breathes a sigh of relief knowing he can take his time, both developing his plan and carrying it out. His contacts’ ignorance of each other means word of what he is doing won’t reach any of them before he does.

Within two days, Alex has the name and address of every one of his anonymous contacts. He researches them while simultaneously setting up a series of untraceable emails and offshore bank accounts as well as purchasing several burner phones. After determining the most convoluted route between his destinations, he arranges for a series of cars with fake license plates he can pick up and drop off at off the grid locations. Hotel rooms with outdoor entrances conveniently outside surveillance range are secured. Everything is prepaid and able to be accessed electronically so he never has to interact with anyone who might have been able to identify him.

Based on his research, he arranges for the supplies he anticipates using, along with a few backup options, to be delivered to an anonymous drop off point near each destination. Two weeks after discovering Project Shepherd was less of a family business than he’d been led to believe, Alex boards a bus out of Roswell. He calls Greg to let him know he’ll be out of touch while taking care of the last of Jesse’s affairs. Once he’s out of Roswell, he sends a message to the alien group chat before turning off his phone. “Permanently shutting down Project Shepherd. Will be out of town and unreachable until it’s done.” It’s the last message he sends for almost a year.

Alex’s first stop is in Texas. Hal Stevenson is cold and brusque. They meet in a diner during the lunch rush so no one has time to give them more than a passing glance. He hands Alex a small stack of files and tells him to let him know when the “scourge” has finally been wiped out. They part ways with nothing more than a nod, and Stevenson leaves completely unaware of the undetectable drug he ingested designed to induce a fatal heart attack within twelve hours.

Back in his hotel room, Alex monitors local dispatch radio traffic while tying up any loose ends. He was careful not to leave any fingerprints behind, and his hat and sunglasses would make it difficult for anyone at the diner to identify him. The diner itself doesn’t have any security cameras, but Alex confirms all security cameras in the immediate area are playing a loop that began three days before the meeting and will continue for another three days after. An older man dying of a heart attack shouldn’t warrant an investigation, but Alex can’t take any chances.

Eight hours later, an ambulance is called to Stevenson’s residence. He listens long enough to hear confirmation that the victim was unable to be resuscitated before packing up his room. Alex heads to Michigan, changing cars and picking up supplies three times along the way.

With his first successful mission behind him, Alex develops a routine. He arrives a few days before the scheduled meeting to conduct surveillance on both his contact and the meeting place. Public security cameras are put on a one week loop, and if the meeting will be a residence, home security systems are even easier to hack. Alex just redirects the cameras enough to make sure he won’t be captured on film. While he waits for confirmation of death or discovery of the body depending on his method, he reviews the information he gathers from each victim. Any medical files are sent to Kyle from one of his secure email addresses with multiple encryptions on the attachments. Anything nonmedical, he flags for further review so he can do a thorough analysis once he has all the files. Once this is all over, and he knows the full scope of Project Shepherd, he can share the information with everyone else.

By the time he returns to Roswell, he leaves two more heart attacks and a stroke in his wake. Delayed medical deaths through undetectable drugs are the easiest and cleanest methods of killing, but sometimes a more personal touch is needed.

Anthony Warrick is an idiot. Despite his well known, deadly bee allergy, he sets up his meeting with Alex in a deserted area of a nature preserve. The day before their meeting, Alex swaps his EpiPen with a defective one. Then he sits on a bench and nods along while Warrick rambles about the merits of extermination. He never notices Alex carefully disrupting the ground in front of him just enough to cause him to stumble when he stands up to leave.

Alex catches his arm to steady him, using a needle too small for him to feel to inject him with bee venom. The venom is encapsulated in a benign substance engineered to dissolve in approximately two minutes. That gives Alex enough time to depart and watch from a discreet distance as the venom takes effect and Warrick tries to use the defective EpiPen. He doesn’t even have time to call for help, not that there is anyone to hear him thanks to the secluded location he chose.

Warrick provided Alex with a crate full of files he spends two days reading through before leaving for his next destination. Marcus Hodge is a pompous ass. Alex meets him at his house where he promptly insists Alex follow him to the pool. He hands Alex a drink he didn’t ask for and has no intention of drinking while he struts around the pool chomping on a cigar. Hodge wants to know what Alex’s plans are in regards to studying alien powers.

“We need to find a way to weaponize them,” he proposes. “Take advantage of their powers and finally make our own super soldiers.”

Alex rolls his eyes as he knocks him unconscious. He takes his time studying the pool area, deciding he might as well have that drink after all, dumping the drink Warrick poured for him and replacing it with something more to his taste. Eventually he determines the best place to stage an accident. He slams Warrick’s head against the pool deck and rolls his body, cigar and all, into the water. Alex watches him sink and then drown before departing, glass in hand to be sanitized and disposed of at his next location.

After Warrick, Alex decides to take a few months off. He meets up with Forrest in Nebraska and then again in Connecticut. In between he finds three abandoned Project Shepherd locations and clears them out. He takes another two months to go through all the information he collects, although he never stays in the same location for more than a week. Kyle receives several more emails with medical information and Alex can’t help but wonder how frustrated he is by his inability to reply to the emails. He’s sure Kyle has questions−he knows they all do−but Alex needs to stay focused on the mission and not what is happening in Roswell.

He regrets the break once he arrives in Maryland and meets with Chester Mayfield. Alex makes his first and only mistake, and he blames it on the time he took to focus on gathering information rather than eliminating threats.

Mayfield isn’t old enough to have been around at the start of Project Shepherd, but he’s quite a bit older than Jesse. He’s not content to hand over his files to Alex, instead insisting on reviewing them in his study, reminiscing about his role as a supervisor of the team carrying out experiments. Despite everything he’s seen so far, Alex finds his pictures particularly nauseating, and he’s already on edge by the time Mayfield starts asking about Alex’s plans for a new facility.

“Your grandfather kept a special room, you can see it here,” he points to a series of photographs Alex plans to burn as soon as possible. There’s nothing to be gained from studying them, and he can only be grateful Nora doesn’t appear in any of them.

“Jesse shut down, said it was beneath us to be consorting with their kind, but I just think he didn’t have the stomach for it,” he laughs like it’s a joke. “You, on the other hand, look like a Manes after your grandfather’s heart. You capture any females, give me a call and I’ll come and test them out. Hell, if I get the right drugs from the doc, I’ll take your males for a ride, too.”

Alex snaps his neck without even thinking about it. He lets go, takes in Mayfield’s still open eyes and wishes he’d taken the time to make him suffer. Still, this is one of the few scenarios Alex didn’t plan for. He doesn’t allow himself to panic, just gathers up all of Mayfield’s files and wipes down the study.

Research settles Alex’s nerves, and it doesn’t take long on the dark web to determine exactly what injuries he needs to inflict to make it look like Mayfield was still alive when he fell down the stairs. Alex knocks his head and hip against a series of steps and scrapes the nails of his right hand down the banister. He takes particular satisfaction in breaking his wrist−the crunch of bones still satisfying even though Mayfield can’t feel it.

He waits four days for someone to discover the body. He’s glad there was no one in Mayfield’s life to miss him, hopes he was lonely. Alex leaves Maryland with files he’ll never share, a bag of ash to dispose of later and no regrets.

Alex isn’t without compassion. When Allen Lude looks at him with tired eyes and asks if the aliens Alex is hunting have hurt anyone, Alex shakes his head.

“Then can’t we just let it go?” Allen asks. “Do they need to suffer just for existing?”

Alex’s smile is genuine for the first time since he left Roswell. He slips a drug into Allen’s drink that will erase his memories of the last two days and thanks him for his time and the records he turned over to Alex. When he gets back to his hotel, Alex sends him a backdated email that will appear in his inbox marked as read along with a confirmation of delivery from a courier service. Alex confirms he received the files and tells him since they both agree Project Shepherd has outlived its usefulness there is no reason for them to meet in person.

Victoria Reyes reminds Alex of his father. She has the same fanatical superiority complex, the same drive to prove that a lack of humanity makes aliens monsters. Like Jesse, she also chafes at the continued secrecy. She demands Alex expose aliens for the danger they pose.

“There must be a public reckoning,” Reyes insists. “Find them all, their descendants, their descendants’ descendants and eliminate them without compassion. Anyone with a drop of alien blood must be purged without exception. Then make sure the world understands what horrors we saved them from through our decades of hard work and sacrifice.”

Alex knows she had a family once before her cruelty and alcoholism drove them away. She downs three drinks in the ten minutes he spends with her, making subduing her easy. Alex arranges Reyes’ body on the couch, half-filled glass and phone within arm’s reach. An injection increases her blood alcohol content to a level that would leave her unconscious for hours. He opens a few windows in the house which causes a curtain to blow into a candle, starting a fire. The control he has over her security system allows him to prevent the fire alarm from triggering until he can be sure smoke inhalation will kill her before the fire can be put out.

He drives off with her two dogs before allowing the fire department to be alerted. By the time the fire is extinguished, he’s deactivated their microchips. As tempted as he is to keep them, Alex knows it’s not worth the risk−no matter how small−so he drops them off at a no-kill shelter five states away. Mission finally complete, almost eleven months after he left, Alex criss-crosses the country again, taking three weeks to make it back to Roswell, Michael’s safety assured.

NOW

Michael stares at Alex, trying to process what he said. Alex has killed for him. He can’t mean the Air Force so what is he referring to?

“When?” he finally croaks out.

Alex looks confused, dropping Michael’s hand and taking a few steps back. “What did you think I meant when I said I spent the last year cleaning up my father’s mess?”

“The files you sent Kyle, the information you went over with all of us, the spreadsheets,” Michael throws his hands in the air. Alex had been very thorough when reviewing all the information he found; Michael never imagined there could be more to it than that.

“That was part of it, but not the most important part. There were still people out there who knew about Project Shepherd that were threats to you, to your family. I couldn’t leave them out there.”

“How many?” Michael asks.

“Eight.” Alex stands up straighter, hands clasped behind his back, and meets Michael’s eyes. Michael knows that posture, knows Alex is bracing himself for a blow. “Does that change anything for you?” Alex asks.

Michael doesn’t answer right away. He knows if he answers too quickly, Alex won’t believe him, so he lets what Alex told him sink in. Alex spent a year hunting down people who threatened Michael, killing them before he could be hurt. Maybe that discovery shouldn’t fill him with warmth, but it does. No one has ever made his safety and future a priority. No one but Alex.

“I love you.” It comes out raw. It’s not enough, but he doesn’t know what else to say. “I love you so fucking much.” Michael pushes Alex up against the wall and kisses him. He bites at Alex’s lip, the kiss hard and bruising.

“Deep Sky?” Michael asks when they pull apart, suddenly remembering what Alex said about joining Deep Sky to protect him.

Alex shakes his head. “There’s no threat to you at Deep Sky. I made sure of it. If one develops, I will take care of it.” It’s a vow and a promise. Alex cradles Michael’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. “No one will hunt you again. You will never be captured, never be an experiment. Not as long as I live.”

“Alex,” Michael breathes, stunned by the conviction in Alex’s voice. Michael knows he doesn’t deserve the naked devotion in Alex’s eyes, but now that he has it, he’ll never be able to live without it. It fills the holes in his soul he swore were permanent, heals them in ways he never dreamed possible. He drops to his knees, the only way he knows to show Alex what his protection means to him.

He undoes Alex’s pants, pulling them along with his underwear down past his knees. Alex isn’t hard, but Michael takes him into his mouth, holding him on his tongue, sucking gently. He strokes Alex’s thighs before cupping his balls and squeezing lightly.

Alex starts to harden in his mouth. Michael takes a deep breath and tilts his head up so he can see Alex’s face. He taps Alex’s hip to get his attention, to make him watch as Michael’s mouth stretches around his cock. Michael brings Alex’s hand to his face, guiding his fingers to trace over his lips so Alex can feel how wet they are against the heat of his cock, can feel how they tighten when Michael swallows.

When Alex grips his hair and starts to fuck into Michael’s mouth, he wants to close his eyes and lose himself in the feeling of being filled, of breathing around Alex’s cock. But he forces his eyes to remain open so Alex can see the tears in them as he takes Alex as deep as he can, so Alex can see his own devotion reflected in Michael’s eyes.

Alex’s hand tightens in his hair and his thrusts become quicker and more erratic, letting Michael know he’s close. Michael fumbles with his pants and barely gets his own cock out before Alex comes down his throat. Michael comes with a high pitched whine as he swallows the last of Alex’s release.

Michael stands on unsteady legs, buttoning his own pants before gently tucking Alex back into his underwear and refastening his pants. Alex pulls him in for a kiss, greedily licking his come from Michael’s mouth.

#malexsanta #malexsanta22 #malex fic #rnm fic #my fic #established malex #Alex will do anything for Michael #including murder #Michael learns to appreciate it #murder as a love language #smut

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burntotears · 1 year

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Title: The Answer is Always "Okay." Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Teen Malex, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jesse Manes' A+ Parenting, Aftermath of Abuse, Handprint Fic, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Getting Together, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, No Toolshed Incident, Hopeful Ending W/C: 6,079 Summary: After Alex's fight with Kyle at prom, he knows that there will be consequences at home. He runs into Michael in the toolshed, who's so out of sorts from his resulting injury that he accidentally heals him, revealing himself as an alien and connecting their emotions. The course of their future changes irrevocably. (Canon Divergent after Prom—No Toolshed Incident)

Happy Christmas @bloggingbisexually ! This is for the @malexsanta exchange. I subbed in at the last second, so I hope it's still enjoyable for you 💕

Thank you so much to my beta @im-the-punk-who for your amazing help making this story better and for brainstorming with me so I didn't get in over my head. You're the best!

“Alex, wait up!”

Alex could hear Liz’s hurried footsteps behind him and all he really wanted to do was run so that she couldn’t catch up in her high heels, but even now he couldn’t bring himself to be that much of a dick to her. He slowed and turned around, clutching at his face.

She gasped. “You’re bleeding!”

“That’ll happen when someone punches you,” he replied dryly.

“I’m so sorry, Alex, I had no idea–” she cut short at the intensity of his glare.

“Let’s be honest with each other, Liz. You knew. You wanted to focus on how he acted around you and turn a blind eye to what he was doing with his buddies, but you knew.” Not even Alex could say Kyle was all bad—four years ago Kyle had been his best friend, after all. There was a different person in there and he had a feeling that was the one Liz saw the most.

“Alex, I…” she trailed off, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Strangely enough, Alex knew what she was feeling; he’d gone through the same amalgamation of emotions before high school when Kyle decided he was more of a liability than a friend.

“I’d really just like to be alone right now,” he said, glad to have an out of this conversation.

“But you’re hurt,” she protested weakly.

He chuckled derisively. “I’ve had worse than a few punches from Kyle Valenti.”

[ Read on AO3 ]

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manesalex · 1 year

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nothing starts without you (we become the stories we’ve always wanted): chapter 3/3

When Alex’s former bandmate, Rosa Ortecho, asks him to write a song to help kickstart her solo career, Alex finds himself struggling to write anything at all. Until, that is, he meets Michael Guerin. Or, a loose Music and Lyrics AU. for @alex-guerin @malexsanta

Warnings for suggestive comments, references to past abuse, and references to addiction. Not Maria Deluca friendly.

***

“I love it!” Rosa responds immediately after hearing the part of the song that Michael and Alex have finished. She turns to Michael, “You’re sure you’re okay with me singing it? I mean, you’ll be getting royalties and everything for it, but I know that some writers can have an issue with someone else being the face of their material.”

Alex is so grateful Rosa understands without him having had to say anything about it. He had always been relieved to have her be the face of his songs, to be able to distance himself publicly from his own experiences, but he’s so glad she realizes that Michael may not feel the same way.

“No one wants to hear me sing,” Michael laughs. “As long as you’re crediting me, I’d love to get my work out there.”

“I think a lot of artists will be calling you up and asking you to write for them once this one gets out,” Rosa grins. “Thank you.”

Michael is about to speak when his phone rings. He quickly excuses himself.

And Alex really shouldn’t be surprised with how quickly Rosa takes advantage of the opening, like she’s been itching for the opportunity to interfere in his personal life. “He’s hot,” she says, elbowing Alex.

“I didn’t think he was your type,” Alex replies, being deliberately obtuse. He knows she can read his feelings all over his face. He may be able to hide them from Michael, but Rosa has known him since he was a child and has witnessed every crush he’s ever had.

“You should ask him out,” Rosa ignores the comment.

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight,” Alex admits. “And he used to date Maria Deluca. I’m pretty sure that, even if he were into guys, she put him off of musicians.”

Rosa frowns, takes a moment before saying, “You deserve to be happy, Alex. If anyone deserves to be loved, it’s you. I think you should see if he’d be interested. But, even if he isn’t, I really wish you’d let someone in.”

Alex is about to object when Michael returns. He turns to Alex immediately, saying, “My sister wanted me to invite you to dinner. Tonight. Assuming you’re free?” He almost sounds hopeful.

“I’ve got plans with Kyle,” Alex responds, tone apologetic. “Or I would.” He may have spent the entire day with Michael, but that isn’t nearly enough. Not for him. Alex may have just met him, but he’s pretty sure he’d happily spend the rest of his life with Michael.

“I’m sure Isobel would be happy to have him join us too,” Michael replies. He looks down before meeting Alex’s eyes, “She’s kind of been a fan since your first album. I’m pretty sure she won’t forgive me if she misses her chance to meet you.”

And that explains it. Michael is just a good brother who is trying to make his sister happy. Of course that’s all this is. “Yeah, I think I can talk Kyle into that.”

“Good,” Michael grins at him. Alex feels his heart swell in spite of himself. He’s so screwed.

***

Michael isn’t sure whether his sister was flirting more with Alex or Kyle during dinner. So, when he gets her alone in the kitchen, he says, “You know he’s gay, right?”

“Kyle too?” Isobel sounds disappointed. “I mean, I’d be happy to think about those two hooking up because, wow. There has to be something in the water in this town. They’re both way too hot. And those cheekbones!”

“No, Alex. I’ve known Kyle about as long as you have.”

“Of course I know Alex is gay. And I wouldn’t pursue someone you’re making actual hearteyes at anyway.”

“I’m not-”

Isobel cuts him off, “Michael, I’ve known you my whole life. And I’ve never seen you look at someone like that. Like you’re imagining your wedding to him.”

“He’s way out of my league, Isobel,” Michael argues.

“Did he say that?” Isobel asks, sounding like she already knows the answer. “Look, I know Maria did a number on you, but that man has been returning your adoring looks all night and it would actually be kinda sickening if I didn’t have Kyle here to look at instead.”

“You really think he’d be interested in me?” Michael asks. He knows it’s not a good idea and is sure he wouldn’t survive Alex realizing that Michael isn’t good enough for him, but he can’t help but want it anyway.

“Yes, Michael. He’s obviously interested in you. And I think you should go for it. Tonight, ideally. Leave me alone with the sexy doctor.” Isobel’s grin is positively evil. And, in spite of himself, Michael really wants to take her advice.

***

“Drive you home?” Michael offers in little over a whisper. And Alex wants this to be more than it is, just the friendly offer from the man who drove them both here.

“You do know I’ve been staying with Kyle, right?” Alex asks, giving Michael the option to rescind the polite offer.

“Yeah, I know,” Michael replies, perfectly calmly. “Did you want to wait to get a ride home with him or would you rather let me drive you home?”

Alex is pretty sure he takes far too long to respond. “Let me get my jacket.”

Michael just holds it out to him and waits as Alex puts it on, offering his hand to Alex to help him up.

Alex considers for a moment, but takes it. And then, to his surprise, Michael doesn’t let go, simply leads him toward the front door, shouting, “See you tomorrow, Is!”

“Have fun!” she shouts back. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” Michael shouts at her.

They’re out the door before Isobel can reply.

Before they reach his truck, Michael stops them in the middle of the sidewalk, hand still holding Alex’s. He looks like he’s about to speak and Alex is absolutely certain that, whatever he says, it will kill the fragile bit of hope that’s building inside of him. The hope that, just maybe, Michael might want him after all.

And, suddenly, Michael’s lips are pressed against his and it feels like time stops, like nothing exists outside of the man in front of him, the way his lips are parting, the way his free hand presses against Alex’s lower back, pulling him closer, kissing Alex like he’s precious, like he cares about him more than anyone ever has.

Michael pulls away a couple of inches and Alex opens his eyes to see Michael’s already focused on his own eyes.

And then Michael smiles at him like he’s feeling everything Alex is feeling, like he’s jumped off the edge of a cliff only to start to fly.

***

The last week has been the best week of Michael’s life, waking up next to Alex, getting to kiss him awake, to spend hours in bed, kissing and talking and exploring each others’ bodies. They’ve been taking time to write together as well and, really, every moment Michael spends with Alex, no matter what they’re doing, makes Michael feel happier than he’s ever felt before.

Sadly, he hasn’t been working on Alex’s cabin, but he spends every hour he’s at work counting down to the moment he can be with Alex again.

Tonight, however, he’s going to Rosa’s concert. Alex has some kind of surprise for him and he can’t wait to see whatever it is. Some small part of him hopes he’s going to see Alex get onstage with Rosa to play their song.

He and Isobel get to their seats in the front row, but, to his surprise, Isobel isn’t even looking up from her phone to tease him about how he’d disappeared for the last week.

“Who’s got you so distracted?” he finally asks.

“Kyle,” Isobel admits. Michael is pretty sure she’s actually blushing. “He’s really hot. And a surprisingly generous lover. He went down on me for-”

“Isobel! I don’t want to hear about your sex life!” he objects quickly.

“Your loss,” she shrugs. “You could learn some things.”

“Nothing I’d want to learn,” he replies.

“What about you?” she asks. “Been too busy in Alex Manes’s bed to give me the details?”

“He’s amazing,” Michael smiles. “He’s so kind and smart and-”

“Those aren’t the details I’m looking for,” Isobel tells him.

“I’m not describing his dick to you,” Michael shakes his head.

“You’re no fun!” she pouts for a moment before breaking into a smile. “Seriously though. I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve someone who treats you well.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

He’s incredibly grateful that the house lights lower, preventing Isobel from sharing more unsolicited details about her sex life.

Rosa walks out onstage, grabbing the mic, waiting until the cheers die down. And then she speaks. “I know you were expecting to just see me tonight, but I have a friend here and he’s going to sing a song he wrote first, if you’re all okay with that.”

The crowd cheers, but Michael’s heart drops. A song Alex wrote. Not that they wrote together. He had really thought Alex was so much better than that, so much kinder, that he could trust him. He can’t believe he opened his heart up, that he finally took a chance on someone, only for this to happen again.

He stumbles up the aisle, desperate to get out, to get away from the crowd.

Everything sounds like he’s underwater and he’s pretty sure he’s crying. Until Alex’s voice breaks through all of it.

It’s not the song they’d written. He stops still, turns around to see Alex sitting with his guitar, strumming it and singing into the mic. Singing something Michael has never heard before.

It’s raw and lovely and more vulnerable than anything Michael had heard from him or Rosa before. It’s the most beautiful song Michael has ever heard in his life.

He’s still crying, but no longer tears from a broken heart. The crowd fades away and it’s like it’s just Alex singing directly to him, letting him know about all of his insecurities and fears and hopes.

And, yeah, Michael is definitely in love with this man.

Alex’s eyes find him and he smiles hopefully at Michael and all Michael can do is nod in response.

Alex’s responding grin is brighter than the sun.

Michael’s eyes don’t leave Alex until he’s done with the song and off the stage entirely. And then Michael rushes toward the door, flashing the backstage pass Alex had given him at the guard, desperate to see Alex.

He finds Alex standing backstage in a dressing room, looking like he’s worrying about something.

Michael wants to reassure him, to let him know that there’s no reason for concern. “That was amazing.”

“You really think so?” Alex asks. “It wasn’t too much?” It almost sounds to Michael like he’s asking if he’s too much, if all the vulnerabilities he shared in his song are too much for Michael.

“Yeah. You’re amazing.” He wishes he could show Alex what he sees when he looks at him, how truly gorgeous he is, how amazed Michael is that his heart is still so beautiful after everything he’s gone through. “When did you find the time to write that?”

Alex blushes, looking at the floor, “When you were working.”

Michael steps right in front of him, hand on his jaw, tilting it up so he’s looking Michael in the eye. And all he can do is tell Alex exactly how he feels, even if it’s too soon. “I love you.”

Alex takes a moment to respond, looks like he can’t quite believe his ears. And then he’s smiling and saying, “I love you too.”

They’re both quiet for a moment before Alex realizes, “You’re going to miss Rosa singing your song.”

Michael just shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. I’d rather be here with you.” And it’s true. Before he met Alex, Michael had so desperately wanted to hear his songs sung for crowds of people who all knew he wrote them. But now he’s happy just to be here with Alex.

Alex grabs his hand and Michael smiles in response, intertwining their fingers and squeezing Alex’s hand. And then Alex leads Michael to the stage, right outside of the audience’s view. “Now you can have both,” he says so quietly that only Michael can hear his voice. “You shouldn’t miss this.”

Rosa is standing there in front of the crowd, “This next song was written by Alex and a man named Michael Guerin. I think you’re going to hear a lot of his work in the years to come. Maybe you’re already familiar with some of his stuff.”

Alex seems to anticipate Michael’s question, because, when Michael turns to him for answers, he says, “You’re talented. And you have a very distinctive voice. Rosa figured it out on her own.” And Michael finds himself relieved by that answer, by the knowledge that maybe Maria hasn’t fully gotten away with stealing his work, that maybe people will figure out the truth on their own, without him needing to prove a thing.

Alex gave him that. And so much more than he ever knew he wanted.

Michael turns back toward the stage, watching Rosa sing the song he wrote with Alex, the song that brought the man beside him into his life. He’s not sure if he’s ready for the attention that Rosa implied he’ll be receiving soon, but he knows he’ll be able to handle it, as long as Alex is here at his side.

#malexsanta #malex fic #malex fanfiction #malex #roswell fic #roswell nm fic #rnm fic #roswell new mexico fic #roswell new mexico #michael guerin #i love (1) actual disaster #alex manes #actual cinnamon roll #protect him at all costs #michael x alex #otp: home can be a person #*myfic

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andrea-lyn · 1 year

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The concierge of a hotel experiences thousands of guests, but then a honeymooning couple arrives and ends up making him both believe in love again and end up fiercely jealous of what he's missing.

@pendragonsandbuckleys, I hope you enjoy! I really loved the idea about them having a cute honeymoon adventure as seen through the eyes of an outsider who gets to witness the ridiculousness of these honeymooners. Happy holidays!

#malexsanta #malexsanta2022 #malex #michael/alex #outsider pov #post-canon

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bloggingbisexually · 1 year

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Happy Holidays y'all! This year I wrote a (super adorable) fic for @dankmalexmemes for the Malex Secret Santa exchange (@malexsanta) I hope you enjoy your gift as much as I enjoyed making it!

Huge, massive, gift-basket thanks to @burntotears and @im-the-punk-who for being the best betas ❤️

Title: we're made up of a thousand scars

Summary: “What are you worried about?” Alex interrupted Michael’s thoughts. “Are you sure about this?” “Isobel and I are more than capable of planning a holiday party together. Yes I’m sure.” -- Alex and Isobel plan the group's holiday party together. Michael has many feelings about it.

#malexsanta #malexsanta2022 #michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #secret santa

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malexsanta · 2 years

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Ho Ho Ho, fellow Malex fans! 🎄

We hope to find you happy and in good spirits after our beloved boys tied the knot in last night's Roswell New Mexico finale. ❤️

Considering Alex and Michael said "I do" (respectively), we (the mods) decided to say "we do" one more time, and we are absolutely delighted to announce, that

12 Days of Malex 2022 will return this December! 🫶

Posting Dates: December (Thu) 1 - (Mon) 12 Sign-ups: will open on October 7th and close on October 21 Assignments: will be sent on October 23, with two more check-ins following (in November) before posting begins on December 1

As always, you can check the timetable on our blog for the exact dates, and for any further questions, please drop us an ask (no Tumblr message, please, those are not monitored!) or an email.

We are so excited to bring this fest back one more time, and we hope you are too!

Much love, the mods 👽🤠🎅🏻🎄

#malexsanta2022 #malexsanta #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex fic #malex fanart #malexedit #roswell new mexico #roswell new mexico spoilers

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changingthingslikeleaves · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes Characters: Michael Guerin, Isabel Evans | Isobel Evans, Alex Manes Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Malex Secret Santa 2022, adventures in the mindscape, Humor, 12 Days of Malex 2022 Summary:

"We both agree that this is not the place we belong, right? Please say yes."

Michael tossed his hat on the coffee table and dropped onto the couch. "If you mean that your dad's been dead since CrashCon and some kind of crazy shit is going on, then yeah, I agree."

For @andrea-lyn. @malexsanta

#roswell new mexico #malexsanta #malexsanta2022 #michael guerin #alex manes #isobel evans #Hallmark gone wrong

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alex-guerin · 1 year

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Rating: General

Pairing: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Isobel Evans/Kyle Valenti

Summary: Michael had never really had much experience with Christmas, not in any good ways, at least -- and he especially had never experienced a Christmas party. Still, Alex wanted to host Christmas at their house, their first as a married couple, and there was no way Michael was going to disappoint him. So of course, things don't exactly go the way he'd hoped they would.

Happy Holidays to my giftee, Phoenix @moderngenius94 Hope you enjoy what I did with your prompt.

@malexsanta

#malexsanta #malexsanta2022 #@malexsecretsanta #michael guerin #Alex Manes #my fic

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pendragonsandbuckleys · 1 year

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Sunshine and Roses

My @malexsanta fic for @changingthingslikeleaves, Merry Christmas Nestra!! ✨

I have gone with two of your prompts:

#1 Michael and Alex having an unexpected argument, because marriage isn't always sunshine and roses.

#2 Michael teaches Alex something.

[Also on AO3]

Summary: They lay there silently, enjoying each other’s warmth and company, the last remnants of fear fading away. Michael watched with a smile as Alex pulled the blanket up closer around his face, his nose scrunching as the soft material tickled it. The pad of his thumb was running back and forth along Alex’s wrist where their hands had found each other under the covers, the repetitive motion helping to calm them both.

He was beginning to think that Alex had drifted off when he broke the silence with a half-muffled whisper. "How did you know how to do that?”

Word Count: 8,426

It was such a fucking cliché.

Like something out of one of those damn YA novels he used to secretly borrow from Isobel.

Snowed in, in some Canadian shack.

“It’s not a shack.” Alex took pleasure in pointing out to him. Again.

Only they weren’t young anymore, they were grown adults — married adults — who were supposed to communicate with each other. It had only been a few months, but it looked like they were already learning that marriage wasn’t always sunshine and roses.

“Sure looks like a shack.” Michael retorted, dumping his bag in the corner of the room.

The place looked sturdy enough to survive the storm they’d been caught out in, but hardly held the luxury of a five-star hotel. The bathroom was half the size of the bedroom (which felt like half the size of his airstream), and the main room was a mismatched amalgamation of a kitchen, a dining area and a couch.

The various heaters appeared to be in competition to radiate as little warmth as possible and the dust coating the windowsills were proof that nobody had been there in a while. Not to mention the many pots scattered around filled with the dried-up corpses of long forgotten plants that were straight up hurting his heart.

Several cardboard boxes had been brought inside with them from the car, stacked high against the wall ready for Alex to rummage through that evening. A sensible use of his time, his husband would argue, because of course he would. Always eager to solve any alien mystery presented to him if it benefited Michael. They’d been inside all of five minutes and already he was digging through one of the boxes, taking chunks of paperwork out to make neat piles on the coffee table.

Unsatisfied with letting the conversation go, Michael chimed in again. “You forget, I’ve seen the cabin that Valenti left you. Even that was nicer than this.”

Alex’s shoulders tensed and Michael could practically see him rolling his eyes as he continued shuffling through the papers. “Well, we were hardly in a position to say no. Besides, I think it was very kind of them to offer it.”

Michael drew a line in the dust, frowning at the mound coating his fingertip. “If you had just told me where you were going…”

“I did tell you.”

“No, you said you were on a work trip. This is not work. This is you feeling obligated to dive back into your father’s mess all over again.”

Alex whipped around, frustration almost morphing into anger as their conversation from the lab was brought up, again. “Under Deep Sky’s orders!”

And well, if he wanted to play that game, then Michael was more than happy to join in. “They didn’t order you to do anything! Valenti said—”

“Ugh, Kyle should have kept his mouth shut.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t or you would be stranded right now.”

Alex looked upwards with a sharp inhale, as if the answer to Michael’s come back was written on the ceiling. Or maybe he was praying for an asteroid to burst through the roof and end the conversation. Either way, Michael had been known to have the same look once or twice.

“I’m pretty sure I would have managed by myself.”

“Oh yes, you would have ended up snowed in inside some crumbling warehouse rather than this lovely little shack.”

“If you don’t want to be here Michael, then just go home.”

“Fine!” Michael shouted. He was so wrapped up in the emotional storm that had brewed between them almost as frosty as the one outside that he didn’t fully think about what he was saying.

He got as far as an outstretched hand reaching for the doorknob when a violent burst of wind outside shook the cabin walls, the glass vibrating in their frames as the snow whipped against them, reminding him exactly why he hadn’t been able to leave yet. A glance back at Alex showed that his husband had been so caught up in the argument that he too had forgotten about the snowstorm stranding them.

They stared at each other for a moment, both confused as to where this stalemate left them, before Michael stormed off to the bedroom, not so subtly slamming the door behind him.

He had no intention of actually leaving. He hadn’t followed Alex all the way from Roswell just to abandon him after a few hours, after all. But a chance to walk around the block and cool off may have helped rid him of this residual anger that seemed to be clinging to him.

It wasn’t even Alex he was angry at. Not really. It was this protective instinct in him that, even now, seemed to warp his judgement and force him to go it alone when facing anything that might hurt Michael. It was Project Shepherd that, to both of their surprise, still had its claws in deep.

No one had known that there was one more base still sitting untouched after Alex’s year long crusade to rid the world of it’s dangerous agenda. It had been pure coincidence that Deep Sky had discovered some vestiges of data that needed processing that soon revealed how Project Shepherd had migrated out of America for a small top secret project.

Alex had volunteered instantly to check it out and, well, Michael could hardly fault his devotion. What he could fault though was that he discovered the true nature of his husband’s work trip through a slip of the tongue from Kyle Valenti.

And he told Alex as much— as soon as he caught up with him halfway to Canada. In fact, he’d spewed a lot of choice words that no doubt had Alex wishing he could strangle Kyle. And maybe he should have cooled it a bit once they reached the base, but his mind was racing with what-ifs and I-told-you-so’s that there wasn’t much room left for civilised thoughts.

He loved Alex’s protective streak, but one of these days he needed to learn that he didn’t have to protect Michael alone.

Sitting on the bed, he inhaled deeply. A calming breath to blow the last cobwebs of frustration away. He hated being angry at Alex, hated how it reminded him of a few years ago when he would use his anger as a reason to push him away. The bed squeaked as he shuffled backwards to lean his head against the cold wall and he rubbed his eyes roughly. A whistle of wind rattled the window, making him jump, his head whipping around as if expecting an intruder to open the latch and crawl inside like some low-rate horror movie. Though if they did, he’d probably give them a round of applause. Anyone out in this weather was incredibly brave — or incredibly stupid.

The snow had only just begun to paint the ground a dusty white when they had arrived at the Project Shepherd base: Canadian edition. It was a small, rundown lab, hidden away from prying eyes, obviously untouched for many years. Security was pretty lax compared to the fortress that Jesse Manes had run the project out of in Roswell, but the entrance had a decent enough system that Alex had to spend a good few minutes trying to hack it.

Michael had offered to just blow the doors off its hinges. Alex had declined.

It was an old base. Two large monitors that wouldn’t turn on, stacks of paperwork collected in binders on shelves or strewn across desks. Vials and beakers adorned the benches alongside dust-coated equipment that held a familiarity from their own time in their makeshift lab. At least they had been experimenting on a dead alien body back then. And for good reason. The Canadian Project Shepherd soldiers of old obviously had different goals.

There was one side room that made Michael feel sick to his stomach. It was completely empty save for a rickety bed in the centre, straps tied to the rails for holding their innocent subject still. Whatever they had been testing was not worth his family’s suffering— he knew that much. He could almost feel the pain they had endured and one look at the guilt swimming in Alex’s eyes was enough to prove why he hadn’t wanted Michael to come. This is what he had wanted to project Michael from, this evidence of the torment that his family had endured.

Alex had gently shepherded him away from the room, closing the door behind them as if that would lock out the horrors that had taken place there. He had handed him one of the cardboard boxes from the car and told him to start collecting the paperwork. His hands appreciated the work and his mind was thankful for the distraction. He tried not to read the reports but sometimes the words couldn’t help but jump out at him from the pages Bone marrow tests, consciousness levels, lifespan statistics all categorised by specimen numbers as if they were fucking lab rats in cages just waiting to be rounded up and dissected.

They got everything packed up much quicker than expected, which was definitely Alex’s doing, making sure he didn’t need to stay there a second longer than necessary. If Alex had been alone, he would have stayed all night. Hell, he would have stayed there all week if it would have allowed him to analyse and categorise every last piece of data found in those reports. He could be quite single-focused when he had a goal in mind.

Though that would explain why he hadn’t booked anywhere to stay the night. Which had been unfortunate when the snow had begun to thicken in the sky and the wind had picked up terribly, leaving the trees threatening to topple where they stood.

Alex had led the way in his car, hoping to find a hotel or motel or something that would get them out of the storm that was very quickly becoming dangerous to be out in. Michael’s windscreen wipers battled against the elements as they fought to clear his view and when Alex showed signs of slowing, Michael feared he may not have been faring well either. But no, through the curtain of white he could see an elderly couple clinging to each other as they struggled up the road, wooly hats and upturned collars doing little to protect them.

They paused in their arduous journey to speak to Alex through his window and seconds later they were climbing into the back seat. Trust his husband with his heart of gold to pick up the strays caught out in the snow. He’d followed Alex for another ten minutes to a small cottage and watched with a sigh of relief as the passengers vacated through the same door that they entered. Just because they were old didn’t mean they weren’t secretly serial killers. You could never be too careful with hitchhikers.

The couple hobbled inside and Michael almost got out to see why Alex hadn’t moved yet when the man reappeared, half-jogging back to the car to pass something through the window. He gave Michael a quick wave as he turned back to the house, clearly eager to get back inside, and Michael returned the gesture despite his confusion at the whole interaction.

A key. That’s what he had given to Alex. A key to a cabin (shack) that they owned a few miles away that was apparently used by their grandson whenever he came to visit from out of town. Alex had mentioned that they needed a place to wait out the storm and they had shown him their gratitude for the lift by returning the favour. Despite the size of the place — and the fact that their grandson clearly needed to visit more — it was a very sweet gesture.

Alex had insisted that they bring the boxes inside and it was as Michael watched him almost slip on the icy ground trying to protect some papers from blowing away did his anger reemerge. Alex shouldn’t still be putting Project Shepherd first. And he should have told Michael where he was going in the first place.

The window rattled again and a full body shiver wracked his frame as it let in an icy draft. He hated that he was mad at Alex. He also hated that he couldn’t sulk in his room all night without looking like a child.

Alex was sitting on the couch, thumbing through some papers when the door creaked open. He glanced up at Michael as if trying to gauge his mood before continuing his reading. Baby steps. They didn’t argue often, but when they did, the aftermath was a quiet period of contemplation before they are able to move past it.

Michael approached the front door and toed off his shoes before moving to curl up on the other end of the couch. I might not be happy with you, but that means I’m staying, he hoped it conveyed and though Alex didn’t look up again, Michael could have sworn he saw the corner of his lips quirk up slightly.

They were quiet for the next hour. The small TV in the corner produced only the buzzing static of a dislodged aerial so Michael had resorted to grabbing a well-thumbed book from the shelf, only half paying attention to the pages filled with the sad romantic tale that had him questioning this grandson’s pastimes. The storm continued to rage outside and the large fluffy blanket he’d found to swaddle himself in did what it could to block out the chill sweeping in from under the door. His eyes darted up periodically as Alex moved around the room, going from one box to the next, mentally cataloguing the mass of information. Occasionally their eyes would meet before they both hastily looked away, neither of them willing to continue their earlier conversation just yet.

The icy chill between them was beginning to thaw, but it would need one of them to apologise first before it melted away entirely.

A small huh noise made him look up again. Alex was perched on the edge of the couch observing a small metal canister, brow furrowed as he ran a finger down the list in one of the binders. Michael could make out a label stuck to the side but the writing was faded. A string of letters and numbers. Some sort of code, maybe?

“What’s the matter?” He asked before he could help himself and Alex’s frown deepened as his eyes skimmed the page, too wrapped up in the mystery to notice that they were speaking to each other again.

“It doesn’t match. All the specim—” He coughed, stumbling over his words. “All the vials and canisters have been logged in here, but this one isn’t mentioned.”

Before Michael could suggest otherwise, Alex’s curious nature got the better of him. The lid clicked as it unlocked, the hinges creaking with age as the cap flipped back. For a second nothing happened, but as Alex’s tipped the canister to peer inside, a cloud of white mist dispersed into his face with a hiss.

He quickly pulled his head away with a groan and he wafted the last of the cloud away, coughing roughly and sticking his tongue out as if trying to rid his mouth of a foul taste. “Ugh that was horrible.”

“Well that was dumb, wasn’t it?” Michael scolded him, grabbing the canister without asking. “What the hell even was that?”

Now empty, it seemed innocuous. Just an old metal cylinder with a tiny contraption at the base responsible for the dispersion. He could read the code clearly now: AN-L48-016. Not that it meant anything.

“No idea.” Alex coughed again, taking the canister back to have another look himself. “Guess we won’t find out either considering that was the only evidence that anything was ever in this one. Let’s just hope—”

Michael’s heart almost stopped at the sound of Alex’s breath hitching painfully. His mouth gaped like a fish plucked from the sea, desperately trying to draw in a breath and his hand pawed uselessly at his chest.

The canister fell to the floor with a clunk and rolled along to wood, coming to a stop against the wall. And Alex followed. He dropped forward onto his hands and knees, one hand still grabbing at his neck as if it was going to be any help against it closing in on itself.

“Alex?” Michael asked frantically, blanket falling from his shoulders as he stumbled down to join him, his hands reaching out with no real way to help him.

“Can’t—” Alex choked, his eyes wide and unseeing as all colour drained from his face in an instant.

And then he screamed.

Well, as much as it was possible to scream when you couldn’t really breathe.

The hand not clawing at his throat gave way from under him and his head bounced painfully against the floor as he lost his balance. Both hands moved up to grab his head, squeezing hard as if that would rid him of the agony that had jolted through his brain.

He writhed against the floor, limbs kicking out, back arching off the ground, the most pitiful pained cry leaving his mouth as tears streamed down his cheeks. Michael felt his blood run cold at the sight of it. He didn’t know how to help. He didn’t even know what was happening. The love of his life was suffering right now and he didn’t know how to help!

Alex’s head cracked violently against the floor once more as he thrashed and Michael was there in an instant, a calloused hand sliding between his head and the wood.

“I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.” He lied.

He looked around the room frantically for something, anything, that could help. He couldn’t call an ambulance— even if they did know how to fix this, he’d already discovered their lack of phone signal earlier, much to his dismay. The only thing they had were the boxes. He trusted Alex’s belief that this canister wasn’t showing up in the logs, but maybe he’d missed something.

Another heart-wrenching scream had Michael’s hairs standing on end and as he looked back down his entire body went numb. The tracks down Alex’s face were stained red as his tears had become blood to match the trail now running from his nose.

“Oh my god.” He breathed as his eyes roamed over every inch of blood coating Alex’s face, his near-hyperventilation a painful contradiction to his husband’s inability to draw in a full breath.

He didn’t have time to wait for some miracle.

He staggered to his feet, his legs feeling like jelly underneath him as he skidded to a halt in front of the box on the table. There was a mess of items inside, vials filled with dull coloured liquids, small metal boxes that needed a code to open, stacks upon stacks of notes that would take far too long to read.

The vials clinked together as he picked up a handful of them. The liquid sloshing around inside each was white and cloudy. DN-PD5-09. CSB4-23. DSX-CRT-0102. Handwritten scribbles of codes that meant absolutely nothing to him.

The log that Alex had been reading from was still open and he scanned the page hoping the word antidote would pop out at him but his eyes were so blurred with unshed tears that he could barely read the faded scrawl. If he had time to think about it, some of the items on the list should have made him feel sick. Harvested body parts and distilled spinal fluid. Proof in black and white of the twisted torture performed on his family of the past.

But right now, his present-day family was his only priority.

The world around him went quiet and it took Michael a painfully long time to realise that Alex had stopped screaming. He looked over sharply in time to watch Alex’s hands slide from where they had been twisted in his hair and fall limply to the sides, his knuckles knocking against the floor as they went still. His skin had turned from a ghastly white to a terrifying grey in a matter of seconds and his hooded eyes blinked slowly as he stared at the ceiling, his tiny, quick breaths barely leaving any life in his chest.

“No. No, no, no, no.” The plea barely left his mouth as dropped back down to his knees beside him. “Alex?”

His hands moved instantly to either side of Alex’s face, his thumbs smudging the blood trails as he tilted Alex’s head to look at him. But whatever Alex was seeing, it wasn’t Michael. His unfocused gaze reached somewhere over Michael’s shoulder, his eyes glazing over as the light was already beginning to leave them.

This couldn’t be it.

He wasn’t about to watch his husband of only six months die in front of him because of a goddamn Project Shepherd experiment.

“Alex please.” Michael begged, his tears finally spilling over and landing in Alex’s hair as he pulled him into his arms.

He couldn’t lose him now. Not after everything. Not when their last conversation had been a fight.

His shoulders shook as pain-filled sobs were wrenched suddenly from the very centre of his being. It was as if his body knew that it could tear him apart right now and it wouldn’t hurt half as much as the fear of his soulmate being ripped from his life. His palm splayed against Alex’s chest was his only remaining lifeline, the minute up and down movement the only proof that Alex was still there.

What will you do when that line gets cut? His brain whispered in his ear and he squeezed his eyes shut, begging it to silence.

A kaleidoscope of colour burst in his mind as a flash of every instance of fear he’d logged away for his nightmares played clearly like his own personal hell-filled cinema screen. Every time he’d almost lost Alex had become a part of him, like scar-tissue embedded in his heart. A reminder of how easy it was to lose something you loved.

Alex’s calm demeanour in Theo’s pocket dimension as thick black veins grew under his skin. The easy acceptance of his death as he begged Michael to leave him behind.

The way Alex had shaken in his arms after almost falling to his death from Deep Sky’s balcony.

The uneasy feeling in his stomach as he discovered Jesse searching Alex’s home. The smirk on Flint’s face as he threatened Alex’s life.

The nightmares his brain conjured every year Alex didn’t come home from war.

Their first kiss in the emporium that made his heart flutter and his knees weak.

Wait.

Alex’s smile as they camped out in Michael’s truck. One headphone each as they listened to music, the stars lighting the desert sky.

The euphoria he’d felt during their first time, safe in the arms of someone he really liked.

Wait, what?

The relief that Alex was back in Roswell after far too many years away.

Alex’s full-belly laugh at some stupid joke Michael had made as they shared a Crashdown milkshake.

The tingle that danced across his skin as they kissed outside The Pony. The relief that after all that had gone before, they could finally start again.

There was this strange energy being pulled from within him and it made him want to scream. His eyes shot open with a gasp, praying that the last few minutes had just a terrible dream, but no, Alex was still pressed against him, his body cold and still. Only, something felt different.

Through his watery eyes he looked down at his hand still pressed against Alex’s chest. His glowing hand.

He’d been dying for Max to teach him how to heal ever since they discovered they had more powers in their arsenal just waiting to be unlocked. Isobel had channeled her telekinesis effortlessly with barely any insight from Michael, but the healing thing? Yeah, that was hard work. Or maybe it just took someone else dying for him to harness it.

If anyone was to ask how he’d managed it, he wouldn’t have an answer for them. After all, how could he explain to them that his heart, without even knowing how, had willed Alex’s back to life. That his soul was so intertwined with the man in his arms that it would draw on every last vestige of power from him, without question, without instruction, just to keep him whole.

This newfound power blazed under skin so hot he was almost worried he was burning Alex. He knew what his hand felt like when on fire, and this, this was close enough. He forced everything left in him into Alex’s chest as he let the last of the happy memories wash over him.

The pure child-like joy on Alex’s face as he asked Michael to move in with him.

The love he felt on their wedding day, surrounded by all of their friends as he placed a ring on his soulmate’s finger.

Their first dance as husbands.

Their first kiss as husbands.

“You know what I just realised? I married my high school sweetheart.”

Until—

Alex shot up so quickly he almost clipped Michael’s chin, his limbs flailing as he tried to scramble backwards away from an invisible monster only he could see. Michael recognised the look in Alex’s eyes from the nights when the bad dreams dug in deep and refused to let go, vacant and confused.

Alex’s eyes roamed around the room as he sucked in a deep, desperate breath, in and out, again and again and again, probably too quick to be healthy but in that moment Michael didn’t care.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He held his hands out in an attempt to sooth the man in front him, speaking slowly like he was trying to calm a spooked animal. Alex’s continued looking around frantically before the haze seemed to lift and he noticed that he wasn’t alone.

Michael moved slowly, making sure Alex could see what he was doing as he leant forward and ran a gentle hand up and down Alex’s shaking arm. The tears running down his cheeks mixed with his insane grin were probably a sight to behold but at that moment, it wasn’t really possible to stop either.

“You’re okay.” He repeated as Alex leaned into his touch.

“What just happened?” Alex whispered, voice trembling as his hand unconsciously came up to press against his chest.

Michael shifted closer, moving his hand to rub reassuring circles against the length of Alex’s back, taking comfort in the continuous rise and fall. His own heart was hammering against his ribcage and showed no signs of slowing.

As Alex’s eyes refused to leave his — and the tears still spilling from them — he noticed with some confusion that his own cheeks were wet. Before Michael could stop him, he wiped the tips of his fingers against his cheek, eyes widening at the sight of red coating them as he drew them back. “Wha—”

“Hey.” Michael enveloped Alex’s hand within his own, clasping tight and drawing his attention away from the blood. “We’ll get you cleaned up, but you’re okay now.”

He watched with a smile as Alex nodded shakily, trusting him so completely in his moment of panic. He pulled Alex into his chest, holding him tight until he was ready to move.

Helping Alex off the floor and to the comfort of the couch was a struggle. After his violent return to the land of the living, Alex’s frame had been wracked with uncontrollable tremors making it rather difficult for him to push himself to his feet. He also hadn’t expected his right leg to almost go out from under him once he’d reached full height, but that was hardly surprising considering the odd angle he’d landed on his prosthetic.

Once resting against the pillows and cocooned nicely in the warm, fluffy blanket, Michael worked on removing the prosthetic. The action was so familiar to him now after months of living together, but the hiss of discomfort that Alex struggled to hold back was new.

“I’m okay.” Alex reassured him instantly, almost as a reflex, as Michael’s wide eyes darted up to meet his. Michael didn’t bother contradicting him. Neither of them had enough energy for that.

He grabbed the washcloth atop the neatly folded pile of towels sitting underneath the bathroom sink and let the water soak into it until it darkened the pale blue material. He kept it running a little longer, waiting for it to warm up, before realising that even if the boiler usually worked on a good day, it had probably frozen over by now.

Gentle fingers wiped away the rivers of red that were starting to dry on Alex’s cheeks until all evidence of the horror movie Michael had been forced to watch was washed away. He patted the skin dry and sealed his work with a soft kiss against Alex’s temple. Alex leaned into the touch, hand reaching for Michael’s once he moved away, wanting him close.

It had happened so quickly, whatever it was, barely lasting a minute, yet it had left Michael feeling cold and numb as if his brain hadn’t quite caught up to what it had witnessed. A strange heaviness sitting on his chest that was clearly weighing on Alex’s too judging by the grip he had on him. The tremors hadn’t stopped, vibrating under Alex’s skin.

As if reading his mind, Alex broke the silence, rolling his head against the back of the couch to face Michael. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “It won’t stop.”

Michael’s thumb drew circles on the back of Alex’s hand, taking comfort from the touch. He’d been on the receiving end of an impromptu Liz science lesson many times but he wasn’t sure she’d covered this in her syllabus. “Maybe you’re in shock.” Almost dying will do that to you, his brain unhelpfully added.

“It can’t be shock if you just healed me. Maybe I’m just cold.”

“Cold, eh?” Michael’s asked with a glint in his eyes, his lips turning upwards into a mischievous smirk. “Maybe you need some body heat…you know, like they do with hypothermia.”

Alex chuckled as Michael lifted the blanket, weakly pushing him away as he tried to snuggle in close. The vice around Michael’s heart lessened as pale pink crept its way up Alex’s cheeks, his feeble protests at Michael getting closer turning into giggles as he got one arm around Alex’s shoulders and drew him nearer, pulling the blanket around them both. He could feel the tremors lessen as Alex relaxed into the hug and he squeezed him close, feeling his own nerves beginning to settle now that his husband was in his embrace.

The door rattled as the wind whipped against it and Michael had to hold back a groan. Max would probably describe the air in the room as glacial or crisp or some other fancy word that he could easily pluck from his thesaurus of a brain. Michael would describe it as fucking freezing. The tip of his nose was no doubt starting to pink as the coolness bit at his cheeks. As Alex nestled in closer, resting his head against Michael’s chest, he could see that the tops of his ears were doing the same.

They lay there silently, enjoying each other’s warmth and company, the last remnants of fear fading away. Michael watched with a smile as Alex pulled the blanket up closer around his face, his nose scrunching as the soft material tickled it. The pad of his thumb was running back and forth along Alex’s wrist where their hands had found each other under the covers, the repetitive motion helping to calm them both.

He was beginning to think that Alex had drifted off when he broke the silence with a half-muffled whisper. "How did you know how to do that?”

Michael inhaled deeply. He was asking himself the same thing. With all the powers the three of them had discovered and honed over the years, healing had always been Max’s thing. It had been hard for him to teach and impossible for them to learn. He’d watched Max do it before— hell, he’d felt Max do it before but he never imagined he would one day be able to add it to his repertoire.

Before he could answer, Alex looked up at him with wide eyes. “Wait…have I got a—”

The blanket was knocked away as he pushed himself upright and Michael instantly missed the warmth. He could see the tiny goosebumps littering Alex’s skin as he lifted his sweater but the glowing handprint clutching Alex’s chest quickly knocked all concerns about the cold away.

Damn.

So focused he had been on the sheer fact that Alex was still alive, his mind had completely erased the alien parting gift that Max always left on those he’d healed.

But there it was, a painted galaxy of purples and oranges, specks of blue shimmering throughout. Real, tangible, glowing proof of Michael’s power imprinted into Alex’s skin. He could feel Alex watching him as his fingers moved to softly graze Alex’s chest, his hand lining up perfectly with the mark he’d left behind. It glimmered as he touched it, the colours shifting with a mind of their own. Just like a piece of his console. Like a piece of home.

It sent a tingle through his spine and left him light-headed. His eyes were watering again but the warmth blossoming in his chest gave such a contrast to the tears that had formed earlier. A splash of water bounced off his arm and a glance upwards reveals that Alex’s eyes are also misting over.

He leaned forward to meet Alex’s lips with his own and as he squeezed his eyes shut, the tears were set free. Desperation poured off them both with their need to be close, the kiss deep and longing as Michael carded his fingers through Alex’s soft locks. It was an I love you, an I’m sorry, a don’t ever leave me all wrapped into one, only broken off with a watery laugh as Michael’s giddiness got the better of him. He thumbed away the remaining tears on Alex’s cheek with a smile, his lower lip pulled between his teeth to halt it turning into a helpless grin before returning his hand to guard over the handprint.

The world around them fell quiet as they were locked in this perfect moment. No snowstorm, no icy shack, just the two of them. Alive. Which is why Michael was perplexed when Alex’s brows furrowed, a quiet sort of concern settling over his features.

"You’re scared.”

“What?” Michael replied, confused. What on earth was he talking about? Couldn’t Alex see how happy he was? He wasn’t scared.

“I thought it was me, but it’s not.” Alex brought a hand up to cover his, their fingers interlocking over his heart. “It’s your fear that I’m feeling.”

Michael swallowed hard, another residue effect of his powers forgotten in all the emotion. Trust Alex to be able to sense the fear still lingering in the back of his mind. Look how close you came to losing him. Look how easily it happened.

But as the pressure from Alex’s touch tightened, a reassuring squeeze with a whispered I’m okay, he forced his treacherous thoughts out, the handprint glowing in agreement as all he felt instead was Alex’s love.

The heat rising from the pan nipped at Michael’s palms as he held his hands out over it. The temperature had dropped yet another few degrees and he was taking any warmth he could get as the soup bubbled away.

The sun had long since set by the time Alex’s exhausted body had worn out, but the second he had drifted off to sleep Michael had disentangled himself from the mess of blankets as carefully as possible to embark on the hunt for food. Neither of them had eaten since lunch and his stomach was starting to remind him of the fact.

“Shh.” He muttered as it growled hungrily for the third time since he had started.

The rich aromas wafted into the air as he gave the mixture a stir, bringing his spoon up for a quick taste. He could kiss the mysterious grandson for the number of canned beans and vegetables that were stored in the back of the cupboard, still in date and ready for pillaging - turns out he wasn’t entirely useless.

Satisfied with his work, he poured it into two bowls, being extra careful not to spill it over the sides. Alex was still asleep as he carried them over to the couch but in that moment, with his hands starting to burn and his stomach threatening to grumble once more, he didn’t want to wake him. The smooth brow that was so constantly furrowed, the soft breaths that were so often tense. It had been too long since he’d witnessed his husband looking so peaceful and he suddenly didn’t want to ruin the perfect picture. His job was to blame — of that much Michael was sure. And okay, yes, this job was much less stressful than the previous one, what with the fancy high-tech equipment, the not having to keep secrets from your loved ones and the general lack of bullets flying towards you on a daily basis.

But this recent work, this Project Shepherd discovery was one hundred percent the reason for Alex’s latest bout of stress. Why Eduardo had even involved Alex, after everything he knew about his relationship with Jesse Manes, Michael had no idea.

Alex had apologised. After his brilliant mind had worked out that Michael’s fear not only stemmed from the terrifying ordeal of having to watch his husband almost take his last breath, but was also rooted in the apprehension of him trying to deal with Project Shepherd alone, he had taken Michael’s hand and apologised, explaining exactly why he had left him behind in Roswell.

Not that it needed explaining. It was Alex’s nature to protect those he loved. He had been given the opportunity to save Michael from the pain of the past, to guard him from the bad memories that were constantly threatening to break through, so of course he had taken it. And Michael loved him for it.

He would love him more though if he stopped playing the knight in shining armour for two minutes. Michael may have the golden princess hair, but that didn’t mean he needed rescuing. What he needed was for Alex to realise that they couldn’t change the past, but they could face the future together. They weren’t two lost children on their own anymore.

And to think, what would have happened if you’d opened that canister alone.

“I know. It was stupid of me to come on my own. I’ve already said I’m sorry.” Alex mumbled from where he was still curled up on the couch. His fringe had fallen into his eyes and he swiped at it clumsily, still half asleep and too cold to fully release his arm from the cocoon.

Michael’s mouth fell open and the bowls almost dropped from his grasp. He couldn’t believe what was happening.

Alex yawned and rubbed at his eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he peered up through bleary eyes. “…What?”

Michael pushed some of the papers aside with his elbow as he cleared a space on the table for the bowls, afraid that his hard work would end up splattered all over the floor. His eyes didn’t leave Alex’s, unsure of whether he should be confused or excited.

Can you hear me?

“Yeah— oh my god. Why did your mouth not move?”

Okay, yep. Excited it was. A bark of a laugh forced its way out of his chest as his bemused smile turned into a cheshire grin. This was incredible. Not to mention totally impossible but who cared about that right now.

Holy shit. He formed the words carefully in his brain before pushing them across the air the way he had done a million times when talking to Max and Isobel. Alex’s eyes widened as it registered in his synapses.

“No. No holy shit. What the hell is happening?”

I have no idea but this is amazing. He joined Alex on the sofa like an excitable puppy, smile still fixed in place while Alex stared at him as if he’d gone raving mad.

“Michael. I can hear you!”

“Yeah, no shit.” He grinned.

“How are you happy about this? This shouldn’t be possible!” Alex waved his hands around as if it would accentuate his point. His hair was still tussled from sleep and the blanket had fallen from his shoulders completely but Michael could tell that the slight paleness of his cheeks wasn’t from the cold.

He was freaking out— and with good reason, to be fair. He was right, it shouldn’t be possible. A human having alien powers? They may not have encountered many other aliens but in little old Roswell, that was definitely unheard of.

Well— not entirely unheard of. Rosa had managed it. Of course it had involved suffering a horrible death followed by a decade long nap in an alien pod. But she had ended up with alien proteins fused to her DNA so who’s to say Alex’s sudden powers hadn’t manifested the same way.

“Maybe it’s because I healed you. Like I gave them to you somehow?”

Alex shook his head. “That’s never happened with Max before and he’s healed a lot of people.”

“Yeah, well I’m not Max, am I?” Michael leant forward to clasp Alex’s hands in his own. He raised his eyebrows encouragingly as he spoke, taking joy in the small smile beginning to grace Alex’s lips. “Before we freak out, can we just admit how cool this is.”

Alex pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as if that would silence the intrigue sparkling in his eyes. He pondered on it for a moment and Michael could practically see the gears whirring away in his head, weighing up his feelings on the matter. Until eventually a path became clear.

“Okay, it’s pretty cool.” He smiled, pausing for a moment before asking, “Will you teach me?”

And Michael tried, he really did, but turns out that teaching someone how to breathe was surprisingly difficult. Because that’s what it was like for him. His telepathy— his powers in general — it was like breathing. No one had taught them how to use them, it had just always been a part of them. No thinking, just instinct.

“I can’t do it.” Alex huffed after multiple attempts, dropping his head to Michael shoulder in his frustration.

Michael placed a gentle kiss to the top of his head with a smile. He loved his husband and his unrelenting dedication. Unfortunately for Alex though, this wasn’t something that he could just hack his way through like the genius he was. Which thinking about it, might actually be the problem.

“It’s because you can’t see it.” Michael mused, eyes darting around the room for inspiration. “You don’t know if you’re doing it right because you can’t see if it’s working.”

Alex’s head rolled off Michael’s shoulder with a groan as he stood up without thinking, moving to the windowsill where the pitiful crumbling twig of a plant had been kept. He caught a glimpse of the outside as he did. The icy wind continuing to rage had covered the window in frost. He could barely see his truck in the dark but he was not looking forward to the amount of snow he was going to have to shovel out of the back come tomorrow.

Dried soil dropped onto the table as he placed the plant pot in front of Alex. He gestured to it pointedly before repositioning himself under the blanket and against his husband’s side. They were going to have to go to move to the bedroom at some point and he was very much not looking forward to having to vacate the warm cocoon for longer than a few seconds at a time.

“You told me you and Sanders grew your sunflowers without any alien help.” Alex’s eyebrow lifted, unimpressed.

Michael spluttered indignantly, hand flying to his chest in mock horror. “We worked very hard on those I’ll have you know.” He paused innocently. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know how to help them along if they’re struggling a bit.”

Alex rolled his eyes with a smile, his view settling on the pot as he wondered how to solve this particular problem. His gaze narrowed as he leant forward to run his finger alongside the remaining evidence that a plant ever lived, not quite meeting it as if his gentle touch would destroy it.

A gust of cold air invaded the cocoon and Michael held back the urge to whine and pull Alex back against him. Instead he watched on, amazed, until Alex was ready. He slipped his hand back into Alex’s, leaning in close, almost whispering in his ear.

“There’s particles of life in everything. Even if it seems beyond reviving, beyond hope, it can always be saved. Focus on the roots, how they stretch out into the soil, searching for something to give them life.”

He paused with a frown, wondering for a moment if this would actually work if the poor plant had nothing to search for. He looked over his shoulder and allowed his powers to take over, water gushing out of the tap as a glass floated underneath, filling halfway before floating over to his patiently waiting hand. The bone dry soil slurped up the offering instantly.

“Now search for it.” Michael continued. “Let the water fill the roots. Feel the earth shift as it travels up the stem into the leaves.”

Alex squeezed his hand as he focused, his steely gaze never wavering, his slow, even breaths grounding him. Michael’s chest was warm, a fuzzy feeling settling there as the lump in his throat grew. He never thought he would be doing this. No matter how open they were with each other, this was the one thing he never thought he’d be able to share.

His powers were more than just a magic trick, they were part of his very being. They were him. And here he was, watching his beautiful, brilliant husband trying so hard to understand them.

“Can you feel it?” He asked quietly, trying not to break the concentration so clearly painted across Alex’s face.

Alex nodded slowly, breath catching in his throat as tears began to collect in the corner of his eyes. The overwhelming feel of life bubbling in his chest leaving him speechless.

The top layer of soil rattled as the dried up stem moved. The brown faded to a vibrant green right in front of his eyes, up, up, up, as shoots sprouted off the sides, the leaves unfurling as they grew. The soft gasp from Alex had Michael’s lips curling upwards, his heart growing three times in size.

From the top of the stem sprouted a bud which opened so delicately to allow the petals to grow. Green turning to red until the sad excuse of a plant had bloomed into a perfect little rose.

“Woah.” Alex breathed, his wide eyes roaming over ever inch of it. “I did that.”

“Yeah you did.” Michael grinned as Alex’s excitement radiated from him.

“I felt it. Exactly how you said. The earth moving, the flower growing.”

“I know.”

“But I can’t explain it. I could just feel it. In here.” He clutched at his chest where the handprint would still be shimming under his sweater.

“I know.”

He covered Alex’s hand with his own in a mirror image of earlier. Alex’s skin was cold under his touch and he resisted the urge to pull the blanket around him tighter.

The second kiss of the evening was unexpected but not unappreciated. Alex’s lips soft against his own as his husband leaned forward, chilled hands cupping his cheeks. It was soft and delicate and far too short for Michael’s liking as Alex broke away with a watery smile.

“Thank you.” He whispered and though his words were almost drowned out from another rattle from the door, Michael heard them echo through his mind anyway - whether Alex realised or not.

I love you; Michael offered back, taking joy in the smile it left on Alex’s face.

Alex returned his head to Michael’s shoulder, both of them snuggling closer, no longer under the pretence of doing so to ward off the cold.

They weren’t finished there, however. Alex had a taste of alien magic and now he wanted more. He was determined to master his newfound gifts and well, who was Michael to refuse? He listened so intently to Michael’s teachings, blooming rose after rose as he brought each abandoned plant back to life. They attempted telekinesis and tried again with telepathy up until the first rays of sunshine drove the shadows of the room away. Alex’s eyes began to droop and he didn’t protest as Michael encouraged him to rest his head back on his new favourite spot on his shoulder.

In a more respectable hour, once it was safe to vacate the cotton cocoon, they would discover a missing manila folder as they packed the boxes back into Alex’s car. The pesky paperwork that had slipped under the seat would detail the fatal experiments from 1984. The late Project Shepherd’s members attempts at extracting and transferring alien powers. The failed attempts that had resulted in the deaths of half a dozen humans, a huge cover-up and the closing of the Canadian base. Not to mention the sealing of canister AN-L48-016 after failing to discover the missing piece that would have saved their lives.

An alien handprint.

But for now, Michael was content to lay there, feeling his husband breathing evenly against him as the light melted away the last vestiges of cold. As he followed Alex to the land of sleep it occurred to him how wrong he had been. Even through angry fights and petty disagreements, he loved his husband, he loved who he was with his husband. And just maybe, marriage could be all sunshine and roses.

the end.

#malexsanta #malexsanta2022 #roswell new mexico #my fic

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