#only holding the chair in place. greg is making himself look smaller than he is like usual

[theoldkyokodied]

Uploading all my Tomgreg art at once from the past few week before season 4 hits, who knows in what kind of mental state i'm gonna be once it does :')

#tomgreg #succession #dont even talk to me i started watching this show when i had nothing to do at work and now i watch it with averiel my good friend averiel #and we are going to watch s4 together and i feel physically ill from bein so excited #so ya thats what ive been up to... anyway. i love these idiots they desever nothing but the worst (affectionate) #im also a tomshiv lover btw. im the one who yells 'THIS IS HOW TOMSHIV CAN STILL WIN' while they are actively losing on screen #thats the kind of person i am #dont look at me (lying on the floor) #okay i was not going to say stuff in the tags and let the art speak for itself but i NEED to point out details in the wine Painting.. #i put a lot of work into that one. thinly veiled metaphors and symbolism yknow.. #greg is gripping the stem of the wine glass with his full fist. tom and greg are dressed in the same outfit (sock garters included) #greg look appalled but he is not doing anything about the spill. tom is fondly pouring greg more and more wine. he is doing him a favor #i colored the red wine the same way i would color blood :) oh and tom is not really touching greg #only holding the chair in place. greg is making himself look smaller than he is like usual #oh and @ the person who said that it's the inverse of the tom and nate scene i love the way you think. i did not think of that before #but god. yeah. i actually thought about the scene change from when roman uhh.. christens his office in s1. the one with the coffee machine #i always go insane at that cut. this is not exactly the same since it's more.. about emotions but yknow.. it can be.. the same...

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Six)

AN- Two chapters in one night... hope you like them! Soft Holmes Brothers scene at the end because, especially after the Eurus situation, the boys truly do love and care for each other! Not proof read either of these yet so apologies if there are mistakes!

Word Count- 4405

The younger brother's eyes had flicked over you both only momentarily, the tiniest flick up of his lips at the side of his mouth that disappeared so quickly it could have been misinterpreted for a twitch.

"Ever the delight, Sherlock." Mycroft spoke, standing straighter, his chin poking up a little higher. Sherlock glanced over his posture and rolled his eyes.

"Oh for God's sake don't start that Mycroft. Had I blamed you for everything I can assure you I wouldn't have bothered opening the door, don't make it so obvious that you care about my opinion of you- it's embarrassing for both of us." And with that he spun around and headed up the stairs to 221B, leaving the door to the flat wide open and disappearing into the bathroom.

"Well that was.."

"Easy? I told you that you shouldn't worry." You nudged Mycroft into the building before ascending the stairs.

"Sherlock Holmes, possibly the only man in the world to forgive somebody for nearly killing him in a heartbeat, but held a 6 month grudge when I took the last custard cream from the biscuit jar when I was 12.." Mycroft muttered, making his way into the flat and sitting beside you on the two seater sofa. John walked into the room from the kitchen shortly after, a tray of tea and biscuits in hand as he said his hellos.

"Figured I'd stick the kettle on when you said you were on your way.. Greg shouldn't be long now." He gave a smile, taking his place in his own armchair. "How have.." He glanced at Mycroft. "How have you been? He won't admit it, but Sherlock's been worried about you." Mycroft took a breath, sending a polite smile in the direction of the army doctor.

"Doctor Watson, I can assure you that I am fine and have been perfectly well looked after." His eyes flickered to you for a moment and then back to the doctor. "I presume the pair of you have held up well as I haven't heard any reports of gunfire towards the wall for a fair bit of time." John grinned, casting his eyes over to the smiley face on the wall that had thankfully been left alone.

"Good. Yeah, uh, things here have been.. good.. too." A blank stare matched with a more thoughtful raise of lips. ".. Very good, actually.."

"Catch." Sherlock came stalking into the room, a damp flannel thrown in Mycroft's general direction which he caught expertly, not allowing a single moist patch to appear on his clothing.

"And this is.."

"A flannel? Christ Mycroft has trauma affected your brain cells that much?" Sherlock quipped, flopping down into his armchair and lazily holding his hand out for his tea that was a mere few inches away from his fingers. John placed the mug in his hand without thought or argument, his fingers brushing over Sherlock's slightly before moving away. A biscuit soon followed, John holding out the digestive while Sherlock partly opened his lips, and shoving the food between them. It was your turn to raise your brow now, but you didn't say anything, instead just nudging Mycroft with your knee to make sure he had seen it too. Of course he had. "It's for your face, Y/N's lip balm is all round your mouth and it's making me feel a bit sick." John's eyes widened as he looked between the pair of you. You shrugged your shoulders and smiled, Mycroft simply sweeping away the slightly pink balm from underneath his lip and folding the wet cloth back up to place on the side. At least he hadn't picked up that you did it on purpose. Before anybody else could speak, the sound of someone bounding up the stairs filled the flat.

"Sorry I'm late, Ms Hudson let me in an- what did I miss?" Greg stood breathless at the door, satchel slung over his shoulder and a carrier bag in his other hand, staring at the apparent awkward glances shared between half the room. You stood from the sofa and headed over towards him, swiftly wrapping your arms around him and placing a small kiss on his cheek to say hello. He made his way into the room and perched on the arm of the sofa closest to Mycroft, casting another look at everybody when his question still hadn't been answered.

"Nothing of importance. Mycroft and Y/N have obviously decided to stop moping around each other like lovesick teenagers and finally admitted they've been infatuated with each other for years.. Now you're all caught up, can we get these papers sorted out so I can be more productive with my time?" Sherlock huffed.

"Nothing of importance? Don't be an arse Sherlock, that's excellent news." Greg clapped Mycroft on his shoulder and shot you a toothy grin. "Declaration in the park was it? Might be a good enough reason for me to not punch you for closing off St James'.." John's eyes widened more, if it were possible.

"You just.. closed off St James'? Can you even do-" The look Mycroft shot John made him cut his sentence short. "Right, yeah. British Government." He nodded, standing to go fetch Greg a coffee (yourself and Mycroft still held a shared judgement against Greg and his hatred for tea) and continuing to ask questions about your newly confirmed relationship. Mycroft sat awkwardly through the encounter- briefly talking about his emotions in front of you was one thing, a whole flat full of people was entirely different- so you gave his knee a quick squeeze and answered for him. "Who bit the bullet then?" John sat down. "Christ I know I mistook the pair of you being together when I met you, so surely these two have been waiting longer for you to get on with it." Greg grinned, nodding in agreement at John's assumption. Sherlock, on the other hand, stay lying on his chair completely unphased by the conversation going on around him.

"To cut a long story short, we were watching telly, I said Stephen Fry was a bit sexy, Mycroft informed me that he used to get told he had a slight resemblance to him, I realised I'd stuck my foot in it and had a ramble.. Went from there. Nothing too exciting, sorry." You left out the parts where the night before you had handled a broken Mycroft to the shower, how he had gripped onto you, how you held him as you slept. You also left out the way he had allowed himself to cry, how you held him while he wept- and, for that, Mycroft was incredibly thankful. Sherlock probably knew though, somehow, in his Sherlock way of knowing things- but he was either too kind to announce it to the room, or didn't care enough to waste his breath.. probably the latter.

"That's disappointing. You've mentioned about fancying Stephen Fry for years, this could have happened ages ago." John teased.

"Nothing compared to Hugh Laurie though. I'm pretty certain that I'm straight but I'd let him-"

"The papers!!" Sherlock's shout cut Greg's ramble off, making the silver haired man jump and grab his satchel, handing out the reports in a way that reminded you of a teacher with test papers.

"Right, yeah. Sorry. Basically the proper forms aren't ready for another week or so so these are just a few basic questions- nothing too in depth yet since I wanted to give you guys time to... yeah just basic for now." Mycroft chose to read through all the questions before answering them, whereas Sherlock  hastily scribbled his response to each question as he went along- the smaller details in the Holmes brothers' differences are always interesting to stumble upon. As he held the page in his hands, you carefully leant over to have a glance at the questions, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder and your cheek resting just against your fingers- blissfully unaware at the 2 sets of eyes openly staring at your movements, and the one set that watched from the side. Greg was right, in a way, the questions definitely weren't as overbearing as they could be- but that doesn't mean it was an easy task. The questions targeted Mycroft a lot more than it did John and Sherlock, asking things about scenarios and situations that had occured before they were taken, how long it had been since they had any contact with Eurus prior to that evening/ what they discussed, and a few basic questions about any incentives Eurus may have had, and anything that aided her into her plan. Of course the papers weren't labelled with the sister's name, they were generically printed and typically handed out to anybody involved in any kind of criminal behaviours, but that didn't make it seem any less like these were questions that targeted Mycroft in particular. Mycroft took a deep breath and laid the papers back onto the coffee table in front of him, pulling a pen out of his pocket and beginning to write. In this moment you had noticed the small bounce of his left leg, a movement only ever shown by him in times where he had a particularly stressful day at work, or a troubling encounter with his brother- it was a movement that let you know his brain was running a mile a minute and he felt a little more overwhelmed that usual. Without making a point of it, you move your right hand to rest on his mid thigh, allowing your thumb to rub small shapes into his leg to show your support.

Turning your gaze to the rest of the room, you noticed Greg's eyes on you, a grin on his face that practically stretched to his ears. You rolled your eyes at him, using your other hand to flip him off and smiled.

It had taken just under two hours in total for the boys to finish completely (well, an hour and twenty minutes for the Holmes siblings, an extra forty minutes for John whose brain simply didn't work as fast as theirs to convey the information on the paper). The time had passed fairly quickly, with yourself and Greg not wanting to disturb the silence and instead just drinking your hot drinks and stealing a couple of biscuits from the tray. You gave Mycroft's leg one last squeeze before sitting back against the sofa, stretching a little after finally getting out of that position.

"Thanks again for getting this done today." Greg spoke, taking the papers in and putting them in a plastic folder. "I'd better be off anyway, get these filed in." He stood, heading for the front door and tripping over the carrier bag he had brought in with him earlier. "Shit, yeah I almost forgot." He picked up the bag and handed it to you. "Got your coat, and I may have accidentally read your mind if you had been talking about Stephen and Hugh.." You dug through the bag and grinned as you pulled out the box at the bottom.

"You, Gregory Lestrade, are a bloody legend. God I could kiss you!" Your boxset of 'A Bit of Fry and Laurie' rested in your hands and you showed it to Mycroft, beaming at him. His lips raised at your reaction, showing a small glint in his eye, as you explained how now the pair of you would have to binge watch it since Mycroft had never got round to watching them before. Greg barked out a laugh.

"I wouldn't. I don't fancy being hunted by Mycroft's secret services." Mycroft let out a small laugh himself. And with that, Greg was gone and left the flat to the four of you once more.

***

You hadn't stayed at the flat long before you all made your way to Angelo's restaurant, even managing to convince Mycroft to just take a cab rather than bothering his chauffeur for a 5 minute journey.

"Ahhh Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson!" Angelo greeted, pulling the aforementioned men into an awkward half embrace, half headlock. "Back again so soon? I shall get your usual table set up, grab some candles. Anything for you!" The pair of men awkwardly shifted out of the hold and Sherlock offered a smile.

"Not today Angelo, we need a table for four if that suits your capacities here?" Sherlock peered round at the tables inside.

"Of course, a double date, very lovely to see! Come, come!" He led the four of you inside, you grinning at Mycroft at Angelo's casual mentionings of Sherlock and John's usual 'romantic' set up. You were all ushered inside of a small booth and handed menus, the benches were small but tolerable, your thigh just brushing against Mycroft's, him offering a shy smile at the close contact. "You stay here, I'll get to work on those candles. Just for you, Mr Holmes." Angelo spoke again, clapping Sherlock on his shoulder and disappearing into the back of the restaurant.

"He's.. uh.. a bit enthusiastic sometimes." John spoke, his cheeks burning a little at the memories of previous encounters here.

"Quite. Seems a pleasurable fellow." Came Mycroft's response, glancing over the menu. It had taken no time at all for the restaurant owner to appear back with a handful of small tealight candles in glass jars, and a single flower resting in a vase to lay on the table, taking everybody's orders and leaving once again. Then as the food turned up, Sherlock began to prod at the chips on his plate with his knife.

"What are you doing? Eat your bloody food, Sherlock." John quipped, elbowing the man to his side.

"Don't want it.. whoever decided that dessert was only customary after a meal? I'd much rather wait." John gave Sherlock a look and he spoke again. "Don't give me that look, this was your idea. Who even suggests 'late lunch' as a valid meal time? It's impractical. I didn't eat breakfast because we didn't get out of bed until well past the respected breakfast hour.." 'We'.. you didn't press. "So I had a sandwich at lunch which has ruined my appetite for this. Then I'll be hungry again later, but later than dinner time because of how late this lunch is." Sherlock childishly squashed his chip with his thumb. "It's just ridiculous.. they keep adding new names for new meals at new hours, I feel like we're becoming Bobbits."

"Hobbits, brother mine." Mycroft corrected, the faintest smile playing at the side of his mouth as Sherlock's words sounded alarmingly like the ones he had told you only this morning- it was nice when they just got along.

"That's what I said."

"No, you said Bobbits."

"Boys!" John warned, and you broke out into a small fit of giggles.

"We really can't take you anywhere, can we?" You chimed in. Sherlock just huffed, stabbing a chip and eating it as John gave him a stern look. It was quite sweet, actually, watching them be all domestic. By the time you'd finished your meals, yours and John's plates were clear, Sherlock's leaving only a few chips and a mouthful of burger as he found, after starting to eat the food, that he really enjoyed it and wanted more. Mycroft, on the other hand, had managed to leave little over half of his spaghetti bolognese, making comments about the pasta being far too rubbery, or the sauce being too thin, crossing the cutlery over in the centre and making a dismissive comment about making something to eat when he got home- you all knew he wouldn't.

Sherlock had practically jumped for joy when Angelo came out with a tray of chocolate fudge cake, offering slices around the table which you all, bar Mycroft, accepted happily.

"I shan't spoil my appetite for when I get home." Was his small excuse, raising a hand to prevent Angelo from spouting his claims that he had the best cake in London and that he must have a piece, and instead asking for a coffee. Without words being spoken, John cast his eyes over to you and you offered a small sad smile. Nobody had told John of Mycroft's past, but he was a doctor and always knew when signs were displayed. You had taken an extra fork from Angelo just in case and took a small bite with your own fork, unable to let out the (embarrassingly erotic) moan that had escaped you.

"Christ he wasn't lying, this is incredible." You praised, taking another small piece on the second fork. "Mycroft please give it a try." You offered your hand out towards him, the sliver of cake resting on the tip of the fork's prongs. He looked over at it, his mind telling him to give it a go, at the very least because it had been offered by you, but the image of himself in the mirror this morning came back to mind. He declined the offer and you sighed. Mycroft truly did love cake, and any sweet things, so it was heartbreaking for you to see him turning it away because of the thoughts that ran through his brain. Sherlock had already cleared his plate by this point and stood up abruptly, hoisting his coat back over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go out for a cigarette, care to join me Mycroft?" He had asked, walking past the table. Mycroft creased his eyebrows into a frown.

"Sherlock, the pact? I haven't smoked for three years."

"Neither have I, let's go." Sherlock spoke back quickly, hoisting his brother from the booth and taking the pair of them outside. You raised a brow at John who simply shrugged his shoulders.

"I stopped questioning the pair of them and their motives a long time ago." He reasoned, the pair of you turning your heads to see the two Holmes boys outside resting against the restaurant's window.

"I try my best to.. they just still fascinate me." You spoke back, your eyes lingering on Mycroft a little longer before turning back to the table.

"So.. you and Mycroft. Going well?" John asked, his mouth raising in that side smile he often displayed when he was teasing somebody. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen Mycroft Holmes smile in a non-threatening way, and over half of those were from since you walked into the flat earlier. I think I can only just about count on two hands times where he's pulled an expression that isn't stoic and emotionless."

"Yeah.. I didn't expect it to happen, if I'm completely honest with you. We've spent so many years just avoiding the subject, but after.. Eurus.. I don't know. It flicked something in Myc that made him regret not doing something about it sooner." John nodded, understanding where you were coming from. "You also don't give him enough credit. Everybody just assumes he's this 'iceman' persona, but it's all a front.. I've watched him laugh so hard that tears fall from his eyes, he's one of those people who throws their heads back and lets out an absolute belter of an infectious laugh. I've seen him get angry at the telly if I came over and some stupid reality show came on the telly.. He shouted at Kim Kardashian once on there for some reason or another. I've stayed up all night with him after he had gruelling days at work, him offering to do the same for me if I had a bad case and couldn't sleep. And then, very recently, I watched him cry." You continued on. "Mycroft Holmes is one of the most emotional, caring people I've ever known, he is just incredibly particular at who gets to see it. You're a doctor, John. You know how experiences in life can shape one's emotional stability, how it alters their mental health. Had you grown up without very many people being kind to you, you'd be scared to let somebody else in too." You finished.

"Sorry.. I didn't mean it to come out in a bad way.. I just meant.. It's nice. Seeing Mycroft acting like that, it's.. nice." He apologised. You waved it off. You knew John didn't mean any harm.

"Mycroft and I are old news anyway.. What about you and Sherlock? When did that surface?" You asked, beaming at the deep red John's face had become as he choked on a sip of his drink. "Oh come on, don't act like that. We've all been waiting for this one to happen since you moved in."

"I.. I don't know what you-" Glaring at him, he stopped himself. "Yeah fine, okay. When we got back to the flat that night we went into the front room and Sherlock lost it. I'd never seen him anything like it before, he just.. he just sobbed into a heap on the floor." He explained, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his glass trying to distract him from his eyes watering. "I didn't know what else to do, so I scooped him up and put him in his bed. He begged me to stay with him and I did. Then he apologised to me, for dragging me in all of that mess, for almost getting me killed and he just wouldn't stop apologising.. So I stole the stereotypical movie move and kissed him. Just kind of went from there. I think that night made us realise that beating around the bush all these years wasn't helping either of us, and the thought that we could have lost the other only a few hours beforehand woke us up." He coughed, his voice breaking slightly.

"God look at us.. All the people in the world and we've landed with the Holmes'" You grabbed John's hand from across the table and laughed. "Makes you feel quite special though, doesn't it? That, equally, there were all the people in the world and they chose us?" John grinned, giving your hand a squeeze.

"Could never tell them that though, their egos would go through the bloody roof."

***

"They're talking about us." Sherlock mused, breathing in the London air.

"It seems people do little else." Mycroft returned, casting his glance to you smiling with John at the table.

"She really does like you. I've spent years deducing everything about her to make sure she wasn't a secret Russian spy sent with the motive to kill you." The younger spoke playfully. "You could have eaten the cake."

"Hmm?"

"The cake. I know you wanted it, but you're going back to how you used to be. Now that you're together, you're nervous." Sherlock's voice was nonchalant, simple observations, which didn't ease his older brother at all. "It's pointless. She's entirely infatuated. I thought the childish doe eyes disappeared after being attracted to somebody for a few weeks, but she still looks at you like I look at a triple homicide."

"Resulting to similes now?"

"You need to stop that too. Dismissing it whenever somebody is trying to be... kind... to you. That's just annoying and not a good defence mechanism for insecurities, like a mask made of clingfilm, it's too obvious." Mycroft didn't speak in turn and Sherlock huffed. "She worries for you, she seeks for you to be comfortable in trialling situations, her eyes do that little light up thing every time you open your bloody mouth. Since standing here she's looked over 3 times and smiled to herself seeing you stand here with me without us arguing. I caught her 4 times on the way to the cab from the flat looking at your arse and your legs in that damned suit. You don't have to worry about anything with her- the way she looks at you is so lovesick it makes me queasy."

"And you know this how, Sherlock? Or is this another one of your cruel schemes to embarrass me?"

"Because, Mycroft, it's the same way you've looked at her for as long as I can remember you knowing her. Jesus, Mycroft, I haven't seen you smile this much since we were children.. before we did everything that led us to believe we were any better than anybody else, that we deserved more than sentiment. And it's the same way I.. the same way I look at him." Sherlock's eyes now locked onto John.

"Always did say there would be a happy announcement between the pair of you. Good to see I'm correct once again." Mycroft mused. He remained stoic, but his brother's words were whirring in his brain, leaving him in a state of shock at the curly haired man even displaying this form of kindness towards him.

"You told me once that caring isn't an advantage. But these last few days, no matter how short it has been, have already led me to believe that caring is perhaps the greatest advantage of them all. And I strongly believe you feel the same way, no matter what bull you make up to argue against it." The pair of them watched through the window once more, the image of you and John laughing at whatever joke had been shared between you. "We both have wasted many years fighting against this, and I don't want you to screw yours up. Y/N will remain by your side and feel the same way towards you, whether you wear a bin bag, lose your job, put on weight- she's in it for the long haul. She's spent so many years pining after you that she deserves the best from you and to be happy. And you, brother mine, have been through enough with not good people; you deserve the happiness too." Sherlock trailed the last sentence. It's incredibly rare for them to show it, but Sherlock and Mycroft would always have a particularly close bond, they've been through too much together not to- and so times like this were precious to them. Mycroft simply let out a small cough, reaching his arm over to rest on his younger brother's shoulder to give it a quick squeeze, before patting it twice and letting his arm rest back by his side.

"Sentiment appears to be dwelling well on you." Mycroft spoke, heading back to the door of the restaurant to head inside, holding it open for his brother.

"As it is on you, brother. As it is on you."

#mycroft holmes #mycroft #bbc mycroft #bbc mycroft holmes #mycroft x reader #mycroft holmes x reader #bbc mycroft x reader #bbc mycroft holmes x reader #bbc sherlock #mycroft holmes x you #mycroft x you #bbc mycroft x you #bbc mycroft holmes x you #x reader #reader insert #john watson #moriarty #jim moriarty #james moriarty #greg lestrade #gregory lestrade #lestrade #mycroft x reader smut #x reader smut #smut

[bestillmyslashyheart]

4am

the whole thing is here but its over 18k so if you would prefer to read it on ao3 i understand

It’s widely understood that when Michael Guerin has a problem he drowns it in bourbon and anonymous sex. Occasionally he might complain to Isobel Evans about it or maybe even Max Evans but mostly, his problems end up on the floor of the Wild Pony, one way or another.

Alex Manes, on the other hand, doesn’t have problems. Or if he does, he doesn’t talk about it. Everyone knows that nobody bottles up their issues quite like Alex.

What nobody understands is that no one can ignore their problems forever. Everyone needs a release. Sometimes, that release comes in alcohol, sometimes in hitting something or someone and letting them hit you in return, sometimes even in the bliss of a stranger’s company. And sometimes it comes in the form of a late night phone call and quiet secrets and shared traumas. 

No one understands and that’s exactly the way they like it.

---

He’d turned the ringer up loud earlier in the day to make sure he didn’t miss a phone call or a text and Alex was sorely regretting that now.

The sharp ring woke him from a light sleep and Alex snatched the phone off the bedside table and answered the call before it could wake anyone else up. He didn’t even have time to look at the Caller ID.

“Hello?”

Heavy breathing on the other end was his only answer. Alex twisted his wrist to check the time. 3:12am

“I can’t hold a guitar.” Alex collapsed in on himself at the husky voice. It sounded like the other man had been crying. Or maybe screaming.

“Guerin?” He let out a breath. “Are you okay?” He hadn’t seen Michael since his father had dragged him out of the shed the previous afternoon. By the time Alex could sneak back out there, the place was empty and all of Michael’s things were gone. “That’s a stupid question. Did you go to the hospital?”

“No insurance.”

“You’re a minor, the state should cover you,” Alex told him with absolutely no knowledge whatsoever if what he was saying was actually true. If Michael believed it at least he might go see a doctor and worry about the bills later. 

Michael laughed. It was a harsh, broken thing and he stopped suddenly after a few seconds. “And when they ask me what happened? Am I supposed to tell them the resident war hero smashed it with his hammer because he caught me with his son?”

Alex closed his eyes. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d just wanted Michael to be okay. “Guerin-”

“I tried to pick up my guitar,” Michael cut him off. “I can’t even fucking hold it. My hand won’t- it won’t grip.” Alex felt tears sting the back of his eyelids. “I can’t play Alex.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex choked out.

“Don’t,” Michael replied forcefully. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.”

“He’s my dad.”

“He’s a monster. Doesn’t make it your fault.”

Alex pulled his knees up to his chin and pressed his forehead to his leg. His phone creaked from how tightly he was squeezing it. He didn’t know what to say.

Michael was silent on the other end of the line. If it hadn’t been for his harsh breaths, Alex might have thought he’d hung up.

“Rosa’s dead,” Alex said suddenly. He hadn’t meant to say it but the words were on the tip of his tongue. Michael was quiet. “She- she’s dead. How- god, Michael, Liz called this morning and I couldn’t even process it. I hadn’t heard from you since my dad- and I just wanted to know you were okay and I couldn’t process that my friend is- she’s gone, Guerin.” Alex lost the battle against the tears, one he hadn’t realized he’d been fighting for hours now, and they streamed hot and heavy down his face. They burned on his cheeks but he made no moves to brush them away. There was no one here to see them anyway.

“I’m sorry.” Michael sounded so earnest, like he truly meant it and wasn’t just saying that to be polite, it soothed something in him. Just a little.

“She was going to California,” Alex confessed. “We talked about me coming with her after graduation. Maybe go to LA. I could play music and we’d get a crappy little apartment and bug Liz and Maria to come visit us.” Alex sniffed. “We were supposed to leave. Leave and be happy. Away from here.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said again. It was quiet for a while. “You can still leave, Alex. You can go to California and make music. You don’t have to stay here, not with him.”

“What about you?” Alex asked quietly.

Michael’s breath hitched. “What about me?”

“Would you want to make music?” He couldn’t quite bring himself to ask him to come with him if he left, not yet. It was too soon.

Michael huffed. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Did.” He let out a pained groan and hissed curse. Alex got the idea that he might have tried to move his hand. “You know, I always kind of thought of starting a dad band? Find someone to make music with, have a couple of kids, jam out in the garage instead of doing homework kind of thing.” And now he can’t even hold a guitar. Because of Alex and his dad. 

Alex swallowed around the lump in his throat. “That sounds pretty great,” he admitted quietly.

“Yeah?”

Neither of them pointed out that it was a lot less likely to happen now. “Yeah. You could pick up the triangle. Or maybe a cowbell.” 

“Hey now no need to be mean.” But Michael laughed. 

Alex smiled even though the tears hadn’t quite stopped. “You’d be great at it.”

“I’d be awesome. Don’t sell me short.”

“I could never,” Alex promised. The air sobered between them. “Michael. You’ll play again someday. I promise.”

Michael didn’t reply right away. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

The line went dead.

---

The phone hitting him in the face woke him long before the ringing would have. Michael jerked away from the impact, his eyes blinking open blearily.

“It’s for you,” the girl next to him muttered. “Shut it up.” Michael didn’t remember her name.

He grabbed the phone fully intending to turn it off when he saw the name flashing. He answered it just as it was going to voicemail. “Hold on,” he mumbled. Without waiting to hear a response, he rolled over the girl on his tiny bunk and fell to the floor with a crash. Cursing and rubbing his elbow, he grabbed his boxers from the floor and fled his new Airstream. “Alex?” Alex’s reply was lost when he dropped the phone trying to pull his boxers on.

“Shit,” he cursed, scrambling to grab it. “Alex?” 

“Guerin?” Alex almost sounded amused which was good. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine. You?” He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time. 3:52am. “Shit, it’s late.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. He didn’t say anything else.

Michael dropped heavily into one of his new lawn chairs. Well, it was new to him. What was that old saying? One man’s trash is another man’s treasure? “How’s Basic?”

The line was silent before Michael heard a whoosh of air as Alex exhaled loudly. “It’s shit.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I could’ve told you that.”

“Don’t,” Alex said, not pleading or scolding, just simply. “Not right now.”

“Okay,” Michael agreed. He didn’t want Alex to hang up. It was the first time they’d spoken since Alex left and he didn’t know when or if Alex would call again. 

“They- fuck,” Michael heard a thud. “They have expectations.”

“Who?”

“Everyone!” Alex shifted. “They all know my dad. And the guy in charge here was an old buddy of my grandfather’s.” Michael didn’t know what to say. “They all expect me to be them. And I don’t- I don’t know if I know how not to be.”

“You’re not them, Alex,” Michael reminded him.

“I wasn’t,” Alex agreed. “Out there when I could dress how I wanted and act like I wanted and do what I wanted. But here? Here there’s no me, it’s just- it’s just the military and the way you have to act to be military and I see my dad and my grandfather and my brothers everywhere I look and I don’t want to be them, Guerin!”

“You’re not,” Michael assured him. “You’re not them and unless they do some serious brainwashing and maybe a personality transplant over there, you’re not going to be, okay? You’re Alex. Not Jesse, not Clay, or Flint, or Greg. You’re Alex.” 

Alex was quiet. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Where are you?”

“Basic training,” Alex replied immediately.

“Alex,” Michael groaned. It was like pulling teeth sometimes.

“Uh,” Alex hesitated. “In a supply closet in the communications building.”

Michael raised an eyebrow even if Alex couldn’t see it. “Why?”

“Because they lock up our phones except for pre-approved usage times.”

Michael double checked his phone but it definitely said Alex’s name. “You’re on your phone now.”

“Well yeah, I couldn’t remember your number so I broke in and stole it.” He said it like it was nothing.

“Alex,” Michael laughed.

“What?” Alex said defensively.

“Would anyone else in your family break into a military facility to steal their phone to make a middle of the night phone call to their-” Michael stopped short of labeling himself anything in relation to Alex. “No way,” he continued. “They wouldn’t dare.”

Alex hummed consideringly. Michael heard a loud noise on the other end. “Shit,” Alex hissed quietly. “There’s a patrol. I gotta go.”

The line went dead. Michael stared at his phone as the call ended and the screen went black. After a while he realized Alex wasn’t going to call back so he trudged back inside the trailer only to freeze at the sight of the naked girl in his bed. He’d completely forgotten about her and after talking to Alex the thought of getting back in bed next to her only made his skin crawl. He fished some sweats out of the closet and went back outside to sleep in his truck.

---

Michael’s hands were shaking as he listened to the phone ring. It had been a while since they’d spoken, longer since they’d seen each other in person, but there was only one person Michael could even think of calling.

The call connected to a loud burst of music and a shouted, “hold on!” Already, Michael’s hands were steadier.

He waited as the noises faded and the world quieted. “Guerin?” Alex asked, a little breathless.

“Hi,” he greeted, his voice smaller than he’d like.

Alex didn’t ask what was wrong or why he was calling. He just waited.

“I needed you to answer,” Michael confessed into the silence. “I needed- I don’t know. I just-”

There was a shout of, “Manes! You coming back?”, and Michael’s heart started to race until Alex replied. “I’m heading out! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh come on, Manes, that guy was hot!” Michael closed his eyes.

Alex laughed. “Not hot enough.” There was a long pause as the world got quiet on Alex’s end. First the voices disappeared and then the music cut off with the loud slam of a heavy door. “Guerin?”

“Sorry for ruining your night.” It was after 3am and Michael had been fully prepared to wake Alex up. He wasn’t prepared to catch Alex out on a date.

“You didn’t,” Alex assured him. A car door opened and then closed. 

Michael didn’t know what to say. The more he thought about why he’d called, why he’d needed Alex to answer, the stupider he felt. But he also couldn’t hang up so he just sat there, phone pressed tight against his ear hoping Alex didn’t hang up.

Alex didn’t hang up. After a while he started humming under his breath. It was too faint for Michael to make out the song but it was a pleasant reminder that Alex was still there.

“I need to drive home,” Alex said after a while. “Do you mind if I put you on speaker?”

Michael should probably just end the call and let him drive but, “that’s fine.” A second later, Alex’s car turned on and his music started playing briefly before Alex turned it off and continued humming. Michael listened to the sounds of Alex driving and let it lull him half to sleep. He heard the engine shut off and the car door open and close followed by the house door open and close and still neither of them said a word.

Michael listened as Alex got changed for bed and he heard the quiet sigh as Alex slipped under the covers. “Late night.”

“Long week,” Alex countered. He started humming again.

“What is that?”

Alex hesitated. “It’s nothing. Just something I was playing around with the other day.”

“You’re writing?” Michael smiled. Alex had always wanted to write his own music. 

“Trying to. Sometimes.”

“I like it.”

“Thanks.”

The humming started again and this time Michael recognized it, realizing that Alex was humming the same part over and over again. He tried to join in. 

Alex let him for a few notes before he started laughing. “Hey!” Michael scolded half heartedly. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yeah you are,” Alex laughed.

“Hmph,” Michael grumbled. “Well compared to you everyone’s terrible.”

“You’re biased,” Alex accused lightly, his voice barely above a mumble.

“Yeah I am,” Michael agreed. “Night, Alex. Thanks for answering.”

“Always.”

---

Alex paced the parking lot, his phone in his hands. He kept turning it over and over, not pausing long enough to actual call anyone. 

He knew who he was going to call, that was never a question. This was how it went. He called, the other answered, they talked or didn’t talk depending on the night, and then they never spoke about it again. Middle of the night phone calls were sacred. No matter how long it had been or what had been last said in the daylight, if the phone rang in the middle of the night, it got answered. 

Which meant Alex had to wait. It was just past two in the morning now. By any rational person’s clock that was late. Hell, Alex was normally asleep by 10 o’clock so this was extremely late. He just wasn’t sure if it was late enough to count as a middle of the night call. He needed it to not be a regular call.

Alex didn’t stop moving for the next 30 minutes. He covered the parking lot four times over and nearly dropped his phone twice because he couldn’t stop playing with it. When it was almost three (2:41am but he’s rounding up) he pressed Call.

“One second,” Michael answered gruffly after six rings. There was another voice muffled in the background. Whoever it was did not sound happy that Michael had answered the phone. 

Alex bounced on his toes lightly and waited as Michael made his excuses to his hookup of the night.

“Okay,” Michael said after a moment.

“I kissed my squadmate,” Alex blurted out. “Well, I kissed him and then he sucked me off. In my commanding officer’s office. And we got caught.”

Silence. “Are you getting discharged?” Trust Michael to skip past the awkwardness for once and cut straight to the point.

“I don’t know.” Which was part of the problem.

“Isn’t it against the military’s rules to be gay?” Alex heard the creak of Michael’s truck door opening and then the slam of it closing.

“Yes. Kinda. Not really? It’s complicated.” Alex started pacing.

“Yeah, I’m a little drunk so you’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“DADT got repealed. Today. Or yesterday, I suppose.”

“So you’re not getting kicked out?”

“I don’t know.” Michael waited. “It happened two days ago. They hadn’t actually filed any charges against us to start the discharge process. And now with DADT being repealed it’s all up in the air. Because the ‘offense’ happened before the repeal and also because they don’t know if the repeal goes into effect immediately or if there’s a delay or what that means for us.” Alex stopped and squatted on a curb.

Michael didn’t say anything right away and so Alex waited. “Alex, did you get caught on purpose?”

Alex closed his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Alex…”

“Can you imagine my dad’s face if his son was dishonorably discharged for engaging in homosexual activity?” Alex could. He’d pictured it many a time. “It would be on record. He’d have to acknowledge it.”

“So you’re going to throw your life away? To piss off your dad?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s the Air Force, not my life.”

“It’s a dishonorable discharge,” Michael corrected. He sounded remarkably sober for a guy who claimed to be drunk. “That kind of thing sticks with you.”

“I know.” Because he did know. He just wasn’t sure he cared all that much.

Michael huffed. “So now what?”

“I don’t know. They could go either way. Hell, they could wait to decide what to do and just leave us in limbo for now.”

“Why now?”

Alex dropped his head to his knees. This was the part he hadn’t wanted to admit to. “I’m being deployed next week.”

“Shit, Alex.” 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m a coward.”

“You’re not a coward. Not wanting to go to war does not make you a coward. It means you have a brain and some semblance of self preservation.”

“I joined the military, Guerin,” Alex reminded him. “I knew what that meant. But now that it’s here…”

“You’re going to be fine, Alex.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes I do. Because you’re not allowed to not be fine.”

Alex’s shoulders sagged. “Not allowed huh?”

“No. I checked the rule book. You have to come home, safe and sound.”

“Yeah okay,” Alex sighed.

Michael let the silence linger before, “was he good at least? Like, worth getting kicked out of the military good?”

Alex smirked. “I’ve had better.”

He heard the slow lazy smile that spread across Michael’s lips, the smugness just oozing through the phone. “Yeah you have.”

---

Alex’s voice was a sleepy mumble when he finally answered. “Guerin?” 

“Hey,” Michael greeted softly. It was late, even for this kind of call. Hell, Alex would probably be needing to get up for the day soon at this point.

Bed sheets rustled as Alex shifted in bed. He waited for Michael to speak first. When he didn’t, he started humming, as had become his habit.

Michael let him for a little while, his eyes closed as he listened to Alex try out different notes. He’d been working on the same tune for years at this point but Michael never tired of hearing it. “Alex?”

Alex stopped humming with an inquisitive noise.

“Am I really that bad of a person?”

“You’re not a bad person at all,” Alex told him. His voice was still slightly rough with sleep and for the first time Michael felt bad for calling him. Alex had clearly needed the rest. “You’re an idiot sometimes and you make terrible life decisions but you’re not a bad person.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“If you want me to lie, call me when I’m awake,” Alex grumbled. They both knew Michael wouldn’t though. They didn’t talk like this when the sun was shining. If they talked at all it was inconsequential.

“Max is joining the sheriff’s department,” Michael told him. “Because of me. Because he thinks he needs to to get me out of trouble. Because I’m such a screw up that he needs to literally make a career out of cleaning up after me.”

Alex sighed. “You’re not responsible for what Max does. He’s a big boy, just like you, and he makes his own choices, okay?”

Michael waited for him to tell him he wasn’t a screw up. He didn’t.

“Guerin?”

“Yeah, okay.” Michael swallowed thickly and hoped Alex couldn’t hear it through the phone.

“What is it?” No such luck.

“You were supposed to tell me I’m not a screw up.” Alex didn’t reply right away and Michael scoffed. “Guess I should have called when you were awake.”

“You’re not a screw up,” Alex finally said. But had lost some of its meaning. “You just make bad choices sometimes.”

Michael had a sudden flashback to his truck that last summer. “Right.” He nodded even though Alex couldn’t see him. “I forgot. I’m throwing my life away.”

Alex sighed heavily. He sounded a good deal more awake now than he had. “Guerin-”

“Sorry for waking you up.”

“Gue-”

Michael hung up.

---

“Hey man, are you okay?” Richards grabbed his shoulder but Alex threw him off without a thought. He must have been rougher than he’d thought because Richards took a full step back and put his hands in the air. “Manes? Alex?”

“I’m fine,” Alex barked.

“You are not fine,” Henderson told him. Alex whirled around. He hadn’t even heard him come up behind him. Henderson also took a step back.

“Okay, fine. I’m not fine.” 

“What do you need, man?” Collins asked from behind Richards.

Alex wasn’t even entirely sure what had happened. One second he was fine and the next he was having what might be a panic attack. “I need to leave.” The guys immediately started clearing a path to the door. Alex was nearly outside before he realized what he really needed was something else. “I need my phone.”

Henderson turned on the spot. “I’ll get it.”

Collins and Richards waved Alex outside, neither one of them touching him and making sure no one else even came close. It was impressive considering how crowded the bar was tonight. 

Alex braced himself against the brick wall, closed his eyes, and sucked in slow, deep breaths. There were people walking on the street behind him but Alex blocked them out. “Here,” he heard Henderson say. Alex opened his eyes to see his cell phone in front of his face. He snatched it from Henderson with a gruff ‘thanks’ and started scrolling through his contacts. It had been a while since either of them called and their last call hadn’t ended well but Alex didn’t care. 

He ignored the fact that it was barely past midnight and hit Call. As it rang he pressed his forehead to the back of his hand, his fingers digging into the brick. The guys stood around him, not quite hovering but not leaving him alone just yet.

Alex ignored all of it and listened to the phone ring.

The dial tone cut off with a, “-uck off Max!” 

Alex sagged lightly against the wall. There was a slamming door and some more cursing before, “Alex?”

“Hi,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?” They didn’t usually ask. But then again, Alex didn’t usually call this early in the night. He was suddenly acutely aware of his friends pretending not to listen in.

“Can you-” Alex cleared his throat. “Can you just-”

Thankfully, Michael didn’t need him to finish the sentence because Alex wasn’t sure that he could. He waited half a beat to make sure Alex didn’t say anything else before he was off on a tangent about something. Alex could honestly say he had no idea what Michael was talking about, at some points the terminology he was using went straight over his head and at others he was referencing people Alex had never met. But it honestly didn’t matter as Alex felt his panic subside and the tension leave him the longer Michael talked. 

After more than a few minutes, though it honestly could have been an hour and Alex wasn’t sure he’d have noticed, Collins came over to him. “Do you need a ride home?”

Michael stopped talking, clearly listening in.

Alex nodded. “Sorry.” They’d all come together.

“Dude,” Richards scoffed. “Don’t apologize. Place was lame anyway.” He turned and led the way to the car, Henderson on his heels. Collins lagged behind to make sure Alex was following.

“Alex?” Michael asked.

“Yeah. Can you-”

Michael hummed. “So yesterday Izzy-” Alex let the words roll right over him. He barely paid attention to where he was walking and trusted Collins to get him back to the car in one piece. 

Alex didn’t say a word the whole ride home and the others left after making sure he got into his apartment in one piece, none of them asking the questions obviously on the tips of their tongues. Alex loved them for it, just a little bit.

He listened to Michael ramble as he got ready for bed and collapsed on top of his sheets.

“I saw my dad today.”

Michael cut off mid word. 

“He- he’s visiting an old friend of his apparently.”

“I didn’t realize the devil had friends.”

“Plenty of demons in hell,” Alex said lightly. “I didn’t think he saw me but then he was out at the bar I went to tonight and he,” Alex stopped. He hadn’t even really processed it earlier, what exactly had set him off. Now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to admit it. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could admit it. 

He let out a shuddering breath and said nothing.

After a while, Michael started talking again and Alex fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

---

Maria grabbed the keys out of his hand even as she shoved him out the door. “Your truck will be here tomorrow,” she told him. She closed the doors behind her and watched him as he stumbled across the parking lot. “Is there someone you can call?”

Michael laughed. “At this time?” He paused. “What time is it?”

“3am,” she sighed. “Look, you can’t stay here. I can’t afford that right now.” She’d just bought the place and he knew any small problem could snowball for her right now. “I need to clean up and lock up. If you’re still here when I leave, I’m calling the Sheriff.”

She hesitated a moment, a wary eye locked on him, but eventually she went back inside. Michael didn’t miss the definitive thud of the deadbolt turning in the lock a second later.

Michael tripped twice on his way to his truck, his feet catching on the gravel. He had half a thought of using his powers to start the engine but he dismissed it, recognizing that he really was way too drunk to try and drive. Honestly, he was drunk enough that he might somehow blow the car up trying to start it with his powers. Instead, he pawed clumsily at the seats until his cell phone appeared.

Holding onto it tightly, he slammed the door and started down the road. The Wild Pony was on the opposite side of town from Sanders’ but at least he wasn’t parked out at Foster’s right now. That would have been too far.

Michael wasn’t sure at what point he’d dialed the phone but before he knew it it was ringing in his hands.

“Hey,” Alex’s tiny voice answered. Michael stopped and stared down at his name on the screen. He didn’t have a contact photo set for him; Alex wouldn’t let him take one. “Guerin?”

“Alexxx,” Michael drew out his name far longer than necessary.

Alex sighed. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes,” Michael nodded firmly. “Very. Maria took my keys.”

“Where are you?”

Michael looked around. “Roswell.”

He thought Alex might have snorted. “I know that. Are you at the Pony?”

“Nope.” Michael shook his head. “She kicked me out.”

“Oookay. So where are you now?”

“Walking.”

Alex paused. “You’re walking home from the Pony? Drunk?”

Michael shrugged. “She said I couldn’t stay or she’d call the Sheriff. I don’t want to see Max’s disappointed face again. It’s a stupid face.”

“Michael,” Alex sighed. “Can you call Isobel? Have her pick you up.”

“She’s got a new boyfriend. She’d be mad if I woke her up. Says she needs her beauty sleep for him.”

“Mich-”

“You left.” Alex choked on his name when Michael cut him off. 

“I couldn’t stay.”

“No. You could,” Michael focused more on putting one foot in front of the other than on the words spilling out of his mouth. Probably a good thing because otherwise he’d never say it and he’d just have more nights like this one. “You just won’t. You never will. But I know that. I’m good for a fuck but not to stay over. Whatever.”

“Guerin-”

“You left.” He’d gotten to the edge of the street and he tripped over the lip of the sidewalk. The phone fell to the ground next to him and he missed Alex’s response. When he got back up, the phone was cracked but the call was still connected. “You left Roswell. Two days before you said you would. You didn’t say goodbye.” Half the reason Michael had gotten so drunk tonight was because he’d made plans for a night with Alex only to realize Alex had skipped town.

“I had to go,” Alex told him. “My friend needed me.”

“I needed you,” Michael might have whined. “You just skipped town in the middle of the night.”

Alex exhaled heavily. “I didn’t think you’d care. I mean, you always find some excuse to not be around when I leave.”

“I care,” Michael insisted. “You’re just an asshole.”

“And you’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t make you less of an asshole.”

“Where are you now?”

Michael looked up. “Crashdown.”

“Okay.” He paused. “Michael?” Michael hummed. “Keep walking.”

Michael looked down at his feet, surprised to find them stuck in place. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Just take a step.” Michael did. “And again.” Michael did. Slowly, leaning more heavily on the buildings he passed, he got to the end of the strip.

At some point he started narrating his journey. After a while Alex started giving him directions like he didn’t know how to get home, like Alex knew the way better than he did. Michael didn’t argue with him, though, just kept talking as he walked until eventually he crashed into the locked gate at Sanders’. Michael picked the lock without thinking about it. He’d lost the key Sanders gave him a long time ago and using his powers on the lock was an old habit. 

“You home?” Alex asked. Michael was sure he’d been talking this whole time but he must have missed some of it.

“Mhmm,” Michael agreed as he trudged up the steps of his trailer. He almost dropped the phone as he fell onto his bunk.

“Good night, Guerin.”

---

Alex couldn’t sleep. His body was thrumming with something like excitement. Or maybe anxiety. He didn’t know.

The news broke that morning and it was all Alex could think about all day. Every time he thought he’d finally got it out of his head, someone or something would remind him and he’d be lost to it again.

He had to be up in three hours, had to be at work in less than four, and yet he had hardly even closed his eyes.

Alex fought with himself for a few more minutes before giving it up and getting out of bed to get his phone. It was across the room so he unplugged it from the charger and carried it outside with him. Sometimes, he’d scroll through his contacts and fool himself that there was someone else he might call but tonight he didn’t bother with the pretense; he went straight to Michael’s name and hit call.

Michael answered immediately, almost like he’d been waiting for Alex.

“They did it,” he greeted.

Alex felt himself smile. “Yeah.” It was nearly reverent. “They actually did it.” Michael laughed and a second later Alex joined in. He leaned back and stared up at the stars. “They really did it.” 

They sat quietly for a while, just listening to each other breathe. 

“Run that dad band idea by me again?” Alex had no idea what had possessed him to say it. They never mentioned these phone calls, never, and it had been years since Michael brought it up.

Michael made a strange noise. “Couple of kids, crappy family garage band instead of doing homework?”

“Yeah that.”

“First step is finding someone you can make music with.”

“And marrying them,” Alex smiled. “I can do that now.” As of this morning, he could marry any guy he wanted, anywhere he wanted. 

“Yeah, Alex. You can do that now.”

Alex closed his eyes. “Might need to find me a mean triangle player.”

Michael paused and Alex wondered if he’d gone too far. “No cowbell?”

“Eh,” he sighed in relief. “You can always use more cowbell. Could need a guy who can do both.”

“Steep requirement.”

“Well, I could never marry just anyone.” He laughed. “Gotta have standards, you know.”

“Only the very best for Alex Manes,” Michael agreed.

“And for Michael Guerin.”

“Sure.” 

Alex opened his mouth to reply when another voice beat him to it. “Are you coming back? Or should I go?”

Michael audibly wavered so Alex made the choice for him. “It’s late. I need to sleep.”

“Alex-”

“He sounds hot.” He hung up.

---

Isobel was going to be fine. A few bumps and bruises, possibly a concussion if she actually got checked out at the hospital, but otherwise she was fine. As far as car accidents go, it was nothing, especially considering the state of her car.

Michael had just had time to push the oncoming car just slightly to the side before it hit Isobel head on and the adrenaline rush from using his powers publicly and being scared to death that Isobel almost died was starting to wear off.

“Michael, I’m fine,” she insisted. Noah hovered in the open front door behind her but Isobel ignored him. “Really. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Michael looked at her, surprised. “Why would you be worried about me? You’re the one who almost died not an hour ago.”

“Yeah but you’re the one who,” she stepped closer and lowered her voice, “decided to use his powers in public.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “It was Main St at midnight, hardly town square in the middle of the day.”

“Still,” she insisted. “You’ve been antsy ever since and you keep asking me if I’m okay and-”

“That’s because you almost died!” He reminded her.

“But I didn’t!” She put her hands on his shoulders. “You saved me. You did good, okay? So take a deep breath and relax. You’re starting to stress me out with how stressed you are.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“Well you’re something.”

Michael rolled his eyes. Behind Isobel’s head he saw Noah start to pace, his eyes locked on Isobel. “Your boy toy’s getting antsy. You should do something about that.”

Isobel looked over her shoulder and smiled before focusing back on Michael. “You should stay. Crash in the guest room.”

Michael shook his head. “I’m going home.”

Isobel eyed him. “Is home code for the Wild Pony?”

“No, home’s code for my shitty little Airstream,” Michael rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think you should be drinking tonight. You’ve already used your powers once-”

“Good night, Isobel.” Michael hugged her, cutting her off. “I’m glad you’re not dead.” He pushed her gently towards Noah, exchanging a nod with the man, and drove off.

He didn’t go home. He also didn’t go to the Pony. 

Michael parked his truck by the Crashdown and scurried across the street to the shuttered UFO Emporium and broke the lock. He slipped inside, careful to shut the door behind him, and navigated blindly through the rooms until he got to the room with the tacky glow in the dark stars painted on the wall.

He sat on the floor, sucked down half a bottle of acetone, and called Alex.

“Hmm?” Alex answered sleepily.

“Who would pay money for a dump like this?” 

“Hmm?” Alex asked, slightly less sleepily.

Michael leaned back slowly until he was lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling. There were more ‘stars’ up there but some of them were stuck on and were falling down. “They couldn’t even be bothered with halfway decent stars.”

“Guerin,” Alex grumbled. “Are you at the museum?”

“It’s terrible.”

He heard Alex roll his eyes. “It’s always been terrible.”

Michael looked around. “I don’t know. It’s not all bad. I’d even say this room’s had some amazing things happen in it.”

“Amazing, huh?”

Michael hummed in agreement. He listened to Alex shuffle around in bed and didn’t say anything for a while.

“Bad day?” Alex finally asked.

“Isobel was in an accident,” he confessed. “Other guy was drunk, just missed hitting her head on.”

“Is she okay?”

“Bumps and bruises,” Michael told him. “She was coming to pick me up. I was right there. She could’ve-”

“Hey, no, she’s fine,” Alex assured him. “I mean, come on, she’s Isobel Evans, a little thing like a car accident isn’t going to take her out.” Michael laughed.

“Nah, she’d wait for the apocalypse or something.”

“Please,” Alex scoffed. “She’d rule the apocalypse. Dare the world to try harder.”

Michael laughed until he started crying. “The guy just missed her.” He wiped at his face. “Almost took the front of her car off.”

 “But he did miss her,” Alex reminded him. “She’s okay. Say it.”

“She’s okay.”

“She’s okay.” Michael drew in a shuddering breath. He let it out just as shakily.

“She’s okay,” Alex said again, his voice calm and even.

Michael took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working. “Can you-?”

Alex started humming without any more prompting. It had become a habit over the years. When Alex called but couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about why, Michael just rambled about whatever he could think of until Alex either fell asleep or hung up. When Michael called, Alex would hum for him. Sometimes he’d recognize it as a popular song but most often, Alex would just hum. Bits of it he recognized, some lines that Alex repeated over and over, something he once said he was working on. Michael had never heard more than bits and pieces, wasn’t sure if Alex had gotten any further than that, but he’d always liked hearing it.

That was what Alex hummed for him tonight and it settled him like nothing else could.

---

“Alex,” Henderson stepped in front of him, his hands in the air in front of his chest to show he meant no harm. “You need to sleep, man.”

Alex shook his head. “I need you to move.”

Elcott touched Alex’s elbow and he jerked away from her. “Don’t.” Her eyes were sad but kind. No pity.

“Manes, it’s late. You need to be awake and alert tomorrow for your shift. You need to sleep.” 

Alex shook his head again. “Right now, what I really need, is for you to get out of my way.”

“Look, Manes, we’ve been there,” Henderson started.

Henderson was his friend. They’d been posted together for years before this deployment and they knew each other pretty well. Alex knew that Henderson understood, knew that he could talk to the man if he wanted, the problem was that he didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

Alex stared him in the eyes. He had a few inches and about 20 pounds on Alex but Alex had no doubt he could take him. After all, he had plenty of experience fighting men bigger and taller than him. “Move.”

Henderson shared a look with Elcott before sighing heavily and stepping to the side. “Try not to get caught doing something stupid, will you?”

Alex didn’t spare him a sideways glance let alone a response as he burst out into the cold night air and made a beeline for the communications building. 

Two uniformed men stood guard out front. Alex ignored them until one physically stepped in front of him. “Manes. You can’t be in here.” Lt. Walker’s eyes were kind, he knew what had happened earlier, but his tone left no room for argument. “You need to go back to the barracks.”

Alex shook his head. “I need to-”

“Personal communications are not authorized at this time, Manes, you know that.” Walker stepped in front of him, hand outstretched, but stopped shy of actually touching Alex. It was a wise choice on his part; Alex was crawling out of his skin and he had no idea how he’d react to someone’s touch right now.

“I need-” Alex’s voice cracked slightly and he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing their reactions. 

“Manes,” the other guard said, the one Alex didn’t know.

“Five minutes,” Alex pleaded. “I need five minutes.” He swallowed thickly.

Walker exchanged a look with the other man, the man shrugged and pointedly looked away, and Walker opened the door behind him. “Five minutes.”

“Thank you,” Alex told them sincerely as he slipped inside. The place was mostly dark, all operations communications being run out of a different building and personal communications prohibited at this time of night, but Alex knew the way to the phone bank just fine. He hadn’t had occasion to use it much but every soldier stationed here knew where to find their connection to back home.

Alex didn’t bother with a chair. He grabbed the phone off the desk and curled up on the floor, his fingers dialing a familiar number without hesitation.

It rang twice before being sent to voicemail.

Alex called again. It rang once.

Alex let out a mild curse and called a third time. This time it was picked up just before it went to voicemail. “Who the hell is this?”

“Michael,” Alex exhaled. 

“Alex?” There was a loud clang like Michael had dropped something. “What time is it over there?”

There was a clock on the wall opposite him. “3:52 am,” he answered.

“What’s wrong?”

And just like that, Alex broke. He’d been holding it together all day, since 1:36 pm. Since Alex pulled the trigger and another man fell to the ground and didn’t move. 

Michael made soothing noises on the phone, a low murmur of words that Alex had no hope of understanding but that was okay for now. He just needed Michael’s voice in his ear.

“I killed someone,” he finally croaked out. “He was going to shoot us but I shot him first but it doesn’t even matter because he’s dead because of me.” Tears were falling freely but Alex didn’t notice. “I killed someone, Michael,” he whispered.

“Alex.” Michael’s voice was soft, gentle. Alex wasn’t sure he deserved it right now. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Alex closed his eyes only to be blinded with the memory of the man falling to the ground, chest covered in blood. His eyes snapped open. “I-”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Michael agreed. “But you’re alive. And your squad’s alive, right?”

“Yeah.” Every one of them had gotten back safe and sound, no injuries. “He should have gotten to go home alive too.”

“It was you or him. And I’m not sorry it was him.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“I know you,” Michael’s voice was strong and sure. “And you wouldn’t have pulled that trigger unless you absolutely had to. You could never hurt anyone unprovoked. It was you or him.”

Alex let out a shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure he believed Michael but he couldn’t deny the words helped. Alex didn’t say anything else and after a moment, Michael started up a running commentary on what he was doing.

“Manes.” Alex looked up to see Walker stood in the doorway. His eyes were on the hallway, respectfully not looking at Alex, but his five minutes were clearly up. Alex looked at the clock to find it read 4:12. 

He cursed lowly. “Sorry,” he said to Walker. To Michael, he said, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Try to get some sleep,” Michael asked. “You sound tired.”

Alex felt his eyes slip closed. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Michael replied. “For staying alive.”

Alex didn’t know what to say to that so he hung up without another word. Walker gave him another minute to pull himself together before he stuck a hand out to help him up. Alex took it gratefully. “Thank you.” He wasn’t talking about the help.

“Don’t mention it,” Walker replied. He didn’t say another word as he escorted Alex outside where Henderson was waiting. The two men exchanged a look that Alex couldn’t decipher before Henderson was ushering him back to the barracks. 

“Better?” He asked as they reached their bunks. 

Alex nodded, surprised. “Yeah. I think I am.”

“Good. Now get some sleep. We might get an hour at this rate.” 

“Thank you,” Alex whispered, Henderson was skipping his own precious sleep to stay up with Alex. The man just rolled his eyes and pointedly got comfy on his bunk. Alex’s lips twitched upwards as he followed suit.

---

“Sometimes I hate Isobel,” Michael opened with as soon as the call connected. It had been stewing in his head for days just begging to be let out.

Alex hesitated. “Why?”

Michael dropped his head back against the headrest and stared through his windshield at the stupid banner strung up in the middle of the main square. Congrats Graduates! 

“I could’ve had my Master’s by now,” he said. He’d done his research. Four years of undergrad followed by the two year graduate program for agricultural engineering at UNM and he’d have two degrees under his belt as of yesterday. “I should’ve had my Master’s by now.”

“And how is that Isobel’s fault, exactly?”

Michael closed his eyes, the images of Isobel’s face that night in the cave flashing in his mind. “She couldn’t handle me leaving after high school. Had a freak out or whatever.”

“...that’s why you stayed?” Alex sounded disbelieving.

“She- she did something. Something stupid,” Michael ran a hand over his face. “I’m not saying it was the only reason I stayed but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a big part of it. I didn’t want her to do anything like that again. I couldn’t-” He cleared his throat. “I looked it up. UNM’s grad programs, I mean. They had the program I wanted and if I’d gone after high school I’d be done by now.”

“Apply again,” Alex urged. 

Michael shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You got a full ride the first time, you can do it again.”

Alex didn’t get it. Isobel hadn’t had any more blackouts since Rosa died but neither Michael nor Max had talked about leaving since then. Michael had no way of knowing if his leaving would just set her off again. He couldn’t take that chance. Not if he wasn’t there to shoulder the blame again. “I can’t.”

Alex exhaled loudly. “Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“You can,” Alex told him earnestly. “You’re more than smart enough, Guerin. Any school would be lucky to have you, you just have to apply.” Michael scoffed. Alex groaned. “You’re wasting your mind on that ranch, Guerin. You could do so much more.”

Michael had heard all of this before. Didn’t make it easier to hear this time. “And what if I don’t want to? What if I’m happy on the ranch?”

“If you were happy on the ranch, you wouldn’t be hating Isobel right now,” Alex pointed out.

Michael hung up on him. He ignored Alex’s call a moment later, too. 

---

Alex watched the guy leave, his clothes still haphazard from how quickly he’d pulled them on after Alex’s not so subtle hints to leave had finally registered. 

“Are you allergic to sleeping next to someone?” Henderson laughed. “They never seem to stay very long.”

Alex shot him a glare and ignored the friendly ribbing from the other two guys sitting on his couch. He was well aware of his dating habits, or lack thereof, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear about them from his friends.

He lasted about five minutes before he retreated back to his bedroom. The room reeked of sweat and sex and a strange man’s cologne and Alex threw open the windows and grabbed the can of Febreze, spraying liberally all over. 

His phone sat untouched on his bedside table as he stripped the bed and tossed the soiled sheets into a corner to wash another day. It stared accusingly at him as he pulled out his clean bedding and diligently made the bed.

When the bed was made, Alex snatched his phone up, pulled the screen out of the window, and ducked outside to sit on the small roof over his front porch. He sucked in deep lungfuls of fresh air as he scrolled through his phone. After about ten minutes he gave up pretending that he wasn’t going to do what he knew he was going to do and pulled up his contacts.

Michael was number four on his most frequently contacted list. Alex thought that was actually a little low, especially recently, but he pressed Call and shimmied onto his back as the call connected.

The stars were bright tonight, the sky empty of clouds, and Alex found himself searching out the few constellations he knew as he listened to the phone ring. 

“Not actually a good time,” Michael was out of breath when he answered. Alex’s stomach clenched. They always answered each other’s calls, no matter what they were doing. If Michael was really about to hang up on him for some-

“Michael!” It had been years but Alex still recognized Max Evans’ voice, though he’d never heard it sound quite like that. “Get back here!” 

“One second! Don’t get your-”

“Michael!” And there was Isobel Evans. She sounded nearly as fed up as Max had.

Michael grumbled something at them, the phone clearly held away from his mouth. “Can I call you back in like five minutes?”

“Michael!” That was both Evans’ that time.

“Ten minutes?” Michael corrected.

Alex smothered the laugh that was bubbling in his throat. Nothing about this exchange was particularly funny. “That’s fine,” he assured Michael. It wasn’t like Alex was going anywhere.

“Thanks,” Michael sounded sincere as he hung up.

Alex stared at the dark screen for a long moment before he laid the phone on his chest and returned to stargazing. 

“Yo Manes!” The call came from inside the house. “You still up?”

Alex didn’t answer. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize tonight. 

It was almost twenty minutes before his phone rang and Alex answered it almost as soon as it started ringing. “So,” he greeted, dragging the word out in an obvious question.

“Don’t ask,” Michael pleaded. “I would like to forget the last half an hour ever happened.”

This time Alex did laugh. “Okay,” he agreed easily. It was easy not to push when he was a thousand miles away and the answer didn’t really matter.

“Thank you,” Michael sighed in relief. “Now. What’s up with you?”

“Not much,” Alex hedged.

Michael hummed mockingly. “Yep, of course, you’re right, you always call me at two in the morning because nothing’s up.”

“You used to let me lie to you,” Alex remarked mildly.

“I did,” Michael agreed. “I do.”

“Rough night?” 

“We’re not talking about that, remember?”

“Of course not,” Alex agreed lightly. 

They let the silence linger for a while before Michael sighed and launched into a riveting tale of Johnny-the-idiot-ranch-hand. Alex let him talk for the better part of the hour, part of him engrossed in the stories of Johnny’s sheer incompetence, before he felt ready to talk about why he’d actually called.

“Do you think I’m broken?”

Michael cut off mid word. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I can’t date,” Alex confessed. “Hell, I can’t really go on a date. I just- I can do sex just fine, I have no problem meeting guys and hooking up but anything more than that and I get the urge to run in the other direction.”

The line was silent for long enough that Alex had to check it was still connected. “Guerin?”

“Yeah,” Michael cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m here. I, uh, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Sorry?” Alex wasn’t sure if it was something he should apologize for. For all that they’d made a habit of this, the late night phone call, the ready listening ear, they’d never discussed matters of the heart. Not that he thought this was a matter of the heart, but it was similar enough he supposed.

“No, no, you don’t need to apologize,” Michael hurried to say. “I just wasn’t expecting it. But I’m good now.”

“Are you?” Alex arched an eyebrow even though Michael couldn’t see him.

“Yes,” Michael said. “And you are not broken, Alex Manes. Not in any way. So what if you’re not a serial dater? That’s fine.”

“I’m not a dater at all,” Alex reminded him.

“So? There’s nothing wrong with that. Just means you’ve got high standards.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Are you planning on extrapolating on that?”

Michael laughed lightly. “You’ve got standards, Manes. You don’t want to date because none of those guys are worth your time. You’re good at reading people, yeah? I’m sure if someone held your attention for longer than a fuck, you’d consider a date but none of them are worthy of it so you don’t.”

Alex hadn’t really thought of it that way, that maybe he just hadn’t liked any of the guys he’d met enough to want to date them. Or he had, but he’d dismissed it because how could no guy be worth dating? Well, no guy except… “You think quite highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“This isn’t about me,” Michael hedged.

“That’s not a no,” Alex observed.

“No, it’s not. But this really isn’t about me. There’s nothing wrong with you, Alex. I promise.”

Alex swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it, huh?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

He did. “Should I?”

“...you either do or you don’t, Alex.” Michael’s voice was quiet.

“I do,” Alex confessed. Promised. “I do.”

---

“Michael,” Isobel scolded for the fourth time in ten minutes. And for the fourth time, Michael ignored her completely. When he reached for the bottle again she stretched across the table and snatched it from his fingertips. “Stop drinking.”

Michael turned his head slowly to stare at her. Uncaring if anyone was watching them he yanked the bottle from her grasp with a surge of his powers. It spilled all over both their laps but he paid it no mind as he poured himself another healthy portion. Isobel leapt from her seat with a horrified gasp. “Michael!” 

Michael sipped his drink. A heavy hand on his shoulder splashed a little out of the glass and onto his already ruined jeans. “Michael,” came Max’s disappointed voice a moment later. “It’s not even dark outside yet.”

“Which would probably explain why I have half the bar to myself.” Michael toasted Max with the little that remained in his glass before tossing it back in one swallow. He reached for the bottle again to top it off.

“Why are you like this?” Max asked. He dropped into the seat next to Isobel with a heavy sigh. Michael glanced at him, saw the uniform firmly in place, and looked away. He wasn’t in the mood for Deputy Evans today.

“Max!” Isobel hissed. “If you’re gonna be an ass just leave. I’ve got this.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“I’ve-”

“How about you both leave?” Michael cut her off. He waved a hand at the door. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Michael.” It was Isobel’s turn to sound disappointed and just like that Michael was over it. He stood up so fast his chair fell over and nearly took him with it. Michael reached for the edge of the table to steady himself and knocked the bottle to the floor in the process. 

“Dammit.”

Max rolled his eyes as he stood. “I’ll pay for it.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Michael glared up at him. Max ignored him and walked over to the bar to pay Maria. Isobel wasn’t looking at him so Michael took his chance and lurched towards the door. The ground moved slightly under him but he was used to it and adapted quickly.

“Michael!” Isobel’s yell got cut off by the slam of the door closing behind him.

Michael squinted when the sun hit his face. It honestly was a lot earlier than he usually drank but it wasn’t like he had a job to fill his time anymore so what did it matter. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he staggered over to his truck. By the time he got the engine running he’d already listened to Alex’s voicemail twice. 

“Michael!” Max came barrelling out the Pony’s front doors. “Do not drive!” Michael dropped the truck into drive and pulled out with a spray of dirt that may or may not have hit Max in the face. 

He made it back to Foster Ranch without killing anyone or himself. He counted it as his achievement for the day. Once he got to his Airstream and saw the notice to vacate his parking spot on his door, he knew it would be his only one.

Michael crumpled it into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. Sanders didn’t have any work for him right now but he might be willing to let Michael park the Airstream in the lot anyway. If he didn’t, Michael didn’t really have a backup plan but that was tomorrow’s problem. Truthfully, it was yesterday’s but Michael was nothing if not someone who could procrastinate.

He flopped onto his bed and called Alex for the third time. As it rang he dropped it onto his chest and waited for the voicemail message. It was the only time he got to hear Alex’s voice these days.

“You know when someone doesn’t answer it’s not usually an invitation to keep calling.” Alex’s voice was raspy and gruff but it was the most beautiful sound Michael had heard in days, if not longer.

“Alex!” He shot up in the bed and nearly dropped the phone. After fumbling with it for a few precious seconds he pressed it to his ear. “You’re okay!”

There was a pause. “Yeah.”

Michael’s heart sped up. “That’s not exactly your reassuring voice, Alex.”

“I’m alive,” Alex told him needlessly. He was talking to him, he could tell he was alive. “Henderson’s not. Elcott’s not. Markle’s not.” Michael listened to Alex take a deep breath. He pressed a fist into his eyes. Henderson and Elcott he had heard of from Alex a bunch, Markle he didn’t know. “My leg’s gone.”

Michael’s eyes shot open. “What?”

“My right leg. It was- they couldn’t save it.” Michael had no idea what to say. “Can we- I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve been talking about it for days, it’s all anyone wants to talk about and I just-”

Michael desperately wanted to talk about it. “Wyatt Long got arrested again yesterday; public indecency.”

Alex’s exhale sounded relieved. “What’d he do?”

“Decided it would be a good idea to take a shower in the high school locker room. During school hours.”

“Why the fu-”

“He was drunk. Thought he was late for football practice. Or at least that’s the story I got from Max. The official story is it was all just a big misunderstanding and the Sheriff’s Department is ‘very sorry’ for the trouble they caused him.”

“Man,” Alex snorted. “Must be nice to own the town.”

“Right?” Michael slowly lowered back onto the bed and closed his eyes. Alex’s voice washed over him. “Some guys just have all the luck.”

Alex hummed. When he didn’t say anything more, Michael launched into another story. And then another one. And another. 

It was easily half an hour later, in a lull between Roswell updates, that Alex finally spoke. “I bought a house.”

Michael’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed around it. “Oh yeah? I thought you said you were renting only, that there was no point in trying to settle down when you were just going to have to move again soon.” 

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “But my service is almost up. And with my leg...”

“Right. So, uh, which one’s the lucky city?” How far away was Alex going to be?

“You remember Lily Pierce?” Alex asked suddenly.

Michael furrowed his brow. “Cheerleader? Parents were never home so she always threw the parties?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about her?”

“I bought the house two doors down from her place.”

Michael’s heart stuttered. “That’s in Roswell.”

Alex let out a huff. It sounded vaguely amused. “So my realtor said.”

“You bought a house in Roswell?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Michael wasn’t sure how Alex expected him to react to that. “When’s your service up?”

“Not for another year.”

“Captain Manes!” A distant voice scolded. “You’re not supposed to be up!”

“Alex?”

“Shit, Guerin. I’ve gotta go.”

“Alex!” But Alex had already hung up.

---

Michael paced outside the Airstream, phone clenched in his fist as it rang. He counted the rings and answered on the last one.

“Thanks for the heads up,” he greeted.

Alex sighed. “You knew I was back in town.” 

“From Isobel!” Michael yelled. He’d found out from a flyer on Isobel’s dining room table denoting a welcome home parade for resident town hero Alex Manes. Not because Alex had bothered to tell him himself. 

“I was going to tell you.”

“Clearly.”

Alex was quiet. “You’re angry.”

“Damn right, I’m angry! You blow back into town without a word only to show up at my door with your dad? Alex!”

“Not about that,” Alex dismissed. “You’re upset about that but not this angry.”

He was right, Michael was more angry about everything going on with Max and Liz fucking Ortecho, but that didn’t mean Michael could admit it. “Right,” he scoffed. “Because you know me so well.”

“Okay, I’m not talking to you while you’re like this.”

“Fuck you.”

Alex hung up. Michael’s curses split the air but there was no one around to hear them. He’s not too proud to admit that he threw a minor tantrum, dust kicking up around him as he used his powers on the lawn chairs he hadn’t packed up yet. They went tumbling across the distance until they crashed into the side of his truck. 

The loud clang they made when they collided startled him out of his anger. With a disgruntled sigh, he trudged over and grabbed the chairs, folding them up and tossing them in the bed of the truck. He had to pack everything up anyway now that the land had been sold. No point putting them back out. 

Once that was taken care of he felt calmer. And slightly ashamed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Alex back.

He answered on the second ring. “You still pissy?”

“Fuck you,” Michael replied. It was decidedly more teasing and less angry than the last time he’d said it. Alex clearly heard the difference.

“Good. What’s up?”

“Just some bullshit with Max thinking he rules the world.”

“The usual, then?”

Michael snorted. “Nah. Little more than the usual. He, uh, he decided to go around sharing secrets that weren’t his.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“It’s a shitty thing to happen.”

“Yeah,” Michael exhaled loudly. “So. You’re back.”

Alex paused. “I’m back.”

“How long?”

“Don’t know yet. I’m finishing up my service and then, well, I’ve got the house, so…”

“How is it?” He’d driven by it once, right after Alex told him he bought it, but he’d never been inside.

“Looks like crap,” Alex laughed. “I should have gotten someone to come clean it. Or, you know, furnish it. I’ve got a bed and one folding chair.”

“You’ve been back for two weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Clearly.”

They both fell silent. Michael could tell Alex had something on the tip of his tongue but whatever it was, he didn’t say it.

“You going to the reunion?” Michael finally asked, when the silence had dragged out too long.

“Reunion?”

“Yeah, Izzy put together our ten year reunion. Saturday night? Pretty sure Maria’s going.”

“Uh,” Alex stuttered. “I guess? I haven’t actually been to see Maria yet so it would be a time to catch up, I guess.” Michael definitely didn’t read anything into the fact that Alex hadn’t seen his best friend since coming home either. At least he wasn’t avoiding Michael specifically. 

“I’ll text you the details.”

“That’s fine, I can get them from Maria.”

Michael tensed. “Right. Sure.”

“Look, Guerin-” Alex sighed and stopped. “It’s late.” It was always late, with them.

“Yeah, sure. Good night.”

He hung up before Alex could reply, some of that earlier anger still simmering under the surface. 

---

Alex stared out at the desert behind his house and fingered his phone in his pocket. He wanted to call Michael but he wasn’t sure he could. Not after how he’d left things earlier.

This was the problem with coming home, he thought idly. They’d made a relationship that worked for them and it worked in part because they didn’t see each other very often. Barely a month in and he’d fucked it up.

After staring into the darkness for too long, Alex gave it up and went to bed. He spent over an hour tossing and turning before accepting that sleep wasn’t coming. At least not easily. 

His phone was on the bedside table, easy to reach from the bed. Alex stared at it for a long moment before giving up and unplugging it from the charger. He told himself he was just going to play a game but he wasn’t surprised to find himself pulling up Michael’s contact. He stared at his name until the screen blurred and then he pressed Call.

He didn’t even know what time it was. It might not be late enough for this kind of thing.

Michael answered but didn’t say anything. Alex listened to his breathing for a few minutes, equally unwilling to talk. For once, Michael didn’t take the silence as an invitation to ramble and instead stayed quiet.

“My dad’s a dick,” Alex offered eventually.

“He is,” Michael agreed readily. He didn’t say anything more.

Alex wanted to apologize, wanted to take back what he’d said earlier at the drive-in but the words got caught in his throat. “I’m not scared of him,” he said instead. “I’m not,” he added firmly.

“No one ever said you were,” Michael replied. “No one could.” He made it sound simple, like it was a fact. Alex wasn’t sure if it made him feel better or worse.

The line was quiet again, the silence only broken by the sound of Michael yawning.

Alex closed his eyes. “I don’t care about the copper wire,” he confessed. It came out so quietly he wasn’t sure Michael heard him.

On the other end of the line, Michael let out a breath, long and slow. “I know, Alex.” And then he hung up.

---

Michael sped away from the hospital, trying to leave the image of his broken siblings behind him. Isobel seemed confident that she needed to be there, that it was the only place safe for her, and Michael was trying not to argue with her but he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand needing a door with an exterior lock to feel safe. And Max was half dead on his feet these days and Michael couldn’t deal with them both. He was never supposed to be the strong one.

The sun was shining overhead but Michael pulled out his phone anyway. It rang and rang until eventually he got Alex’s voicemail. He pulled the phone away from his ear, stared at it, then called again.

“Guerin,” Alex greeted, his voice hushed. “I have a meeting with a general in less than a minute, can it wait?” Michael let out a shaky breath.

“Captain Manes,” he heard a voice call. It sounded authoritative. “Yes, sir,” Alex replied, his voice faint. 

Michael prepared to be hung up on but Alex’s voice was suddenly loud in his ear again. “Guerin?” 

“Yeah,” Michael replied. “Yeah, it can wait.” Still, Alex hesitated. “Go to your meeting, Alex,” he urged. “I can wait.”

“Okay,” Alex said slowly. “I’ll call you back when I’m done,” he promised just before the line went dead.

Michael made it home and through two oil changes before his phone rang. He ignored Sanders’ look, wiped his hands, and walked away pressing his phone to his ear. “Hey,” he greeted, knowing who it was without even checking the caller ID. “How was your meeting?”

“Long,” Alex huffed. “Generals are entitled assholes.”

Michael raised his eyebrows. Alex wasn’t overly fond of the Air Force but he was usually respectful of it and the men and women he served with. “Tough day, huh?”

“Could be better,” Alex agreed. “You?”

“Isobel committed herself to the psych ward,” Michael admitted. “She’s been having blackouts for the past couple of weeks and she doesn’t know where she goes or what she does and it’s freaking her out.”

“Can they help her?” Alex asked. He didn’t ask if she was okay or if Michael was and for that Michaelw as grateful. He wasn’t okay and he suspected Alex knew it but they didn’t need to talk about it.

“I don’t know,” Michael exhaled heavily. “But she figured it’s better than waking up in the middle of the desert again.”

“Hmm,” Alex mused. “Waking up the desert with no memory or sleeping in an uncomfortable bed in a locked room you can’t get out of…” Michael pictured him weighing his hands like a scale.

“It makes her feel better,” Michael shrugged. He didn’t get it either but it was Isobel’s call. 

“That’s all that matters,” Alex agreed. He paused. “Want to hear about this guy Jones? He stole a developmental vehicle they’re testing out and wrecked it last night and now he’s trying to stop the brass from figuring it out.” It wasn’t how they usually did this, Alex talking his ear off, but it sounded really good right about now.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Tell me about Jones.”

The sun went down while Alex talked and Michael felt the words ease some of the ache in his shoulders. It was nice, he realized, to hear Alex’s voice. It didn’t matter what he said, Michael was tuning most of it out, but it didn’t matter.

---

Alex had just started getting ready for bed when the phone rang. At first, seeing Michael’s name flash on the screen, Alex was tempted to ignore it. He’d spent the entire day waiting for Michael to come home so they could talk only for him not to show up. But it was after midnight and a phone call after midnight was always answered. It was their unspoken rule.

“Guerin,” he answered in a clipped voice.

“He’s dead,” Michael gasped.

Alex froze. “Who’s dead?”

“Max.”

Alex stood up from the bed and started grabbing his things. “Where are you?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. I dropped Izzy off and I was going home but-”

“Stay there,” Alex told him. He snatched his keys off of the table and yanked the front door open. “I’m coming.” 

“Don’t-”

“I’m coming,” Alex repeated firmly as he started the car. 

“Don’t hang up,” Michael requested weakly.

Alex closed his eyes briefly as he took off towards Isobel’s house. “I won’t. Michael, I won’t.” And he didn’t. He started humming as he drove, the old chords forever on the tip of his tongue. He’d never managed to put words to them, not in the decade he’d been writing the music, but he knew the melody like the back of his hand. 

He made it to Isobel’s house and immediately turned in the direction of Sanders’. It was only five minutes or so before his headlights picked up the familiar form of Michael’s old truck parked on the shoulder. Alex parked behind him and hung up the phone before getting out and hurrying over to Michael’s door. 

Michael was staring at his dark phone when Alex reached his window. There was a look of utter confusion on it, like he didn’t know what had happened. He turned that look on Alex when he opened the door. “Alex?”

“Hey,” he greeted softly. 

Michael stared at him for a moment longer before he started leaning towards him. Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him awkwardly as Michael planted his face in Alex’s neck. “Max is dead.” Alex was about to ask what happened when Michael continued. “Rosa’s back. He brought her back.”

Alex froze. He genuinely did not know what to say to that. 

Michael pawed at the back of his head, his fingers scrabbling at the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “You stopped singing.” His hand felt different than normal but Alex ignored it.

Alex immediately started humming again. Bit by bit, he felt Michael relax against him. The positioning was uncomfortable for both of them but Michael didn’t seem inclined to move and Alex couldn’t bring himself to suggest it. They stood there for the better part of an hour before Michael unfolded himself.

“It’s late,” he remarked. His face was already starting to shutter, his grief from a moment ago hidden away. “You should get home, get some sleep. You’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Guerin-”

Michael pushed his shoulder gently until Alex took a step back and he could close the door. Alex didn’t stop him as Michael gave him a tiny, crooked smile and a nod in thanks and drove away.

The next time they saw each other, neither said a word about that night, silently agreeing to pretend the last time they’d seen each other was in the Airstream before Max and Noah died and Rosa was resurrected.

---

Michael got lost in the music. His fingers were cramped and his arms were tired and he barely noticed. Every now and then he’d shake out his hand, maybe run the fingers of his right hand across just to convince himself that his eyes weren’t lying, but then he’d go right back to the guitar. He’d stolen it from the Pony a few nights ago and he’d been playing it ever since. 

Turns out not everything is like riding a bike. Michael was having to relearn everything, recondition his fingers to work like they’re supposed to, and he was enjoying every second of it. Part of him wanted to keep it to himself, to hoard this kernel of joy and not let the world ruin it like it had ruined everything else, but part of him also ached to share it. To not be alone in this too.

Michael missed a chord and stopped to rub the cramps out of his fingers. A quick glance at his phone showed the time was 1:57am so he unlocked it and called Alex without a second’s thought.

“Guerin?” Alex’s voice was rough with sleep but the worry was evident. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Michael promised. It was somewhat of a lie, plenty of things were wrong, but nothing at this moment. “Listen.” He put the phone on speaker, set it down next to him, and started to play. It was rough, a far cry from what he used to be able to do, but it was also worlds better than anything he’d done in a decade. 

He ran through a few songs, old favorites that he’d first learned in high school, before his fingers took over and started playing something new. Well. Not new. 

Over the phone, Alex inhaled sharply in recognition but Michael didn’t stop playing. He’d been listening to this melody for ten years and his fingers knew the notes faster than he could think of them.

Finally, the song came to an end. In its wake there was only silence. 

“That’s my song,” Alex said softly. “You played my song.” Michael didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything. “You played-” Alex cut himself off. He cleared his throat before continuing, “it sounded amazing, Michael.”

Michael closed his eyes and ducked his head. “It wasn’t,” he objected. He didn’t comment on the rare use of his first name.

“It was,” Alex repeated. “I’ve never played it before.” He quieted. ”I’m glad I could hear you do it.” 

Michael squeezed his left hand into his fist, relaxed it, then did it again. “I’m glad I could play it for you,” he replied softly. 

They sat in silence for a moment longer. “Okay,” Alex eventually said, at a more normal volume. “Now play Free Bird.”

“Fuck you,” Michael laughed. “Let me work my way up.”

“Fine,” Alex scoffed. “Play Thnks fr th Mmrs.” 

Michael rolled his eyes but complied. The only reason he knew it was because Alex had been obsessed with it in high school so he supposed it was only fitting.

They stayed on the phone for a while, Alex making requests and Michael doing his best to fulfill them, before his hand cramped up too much for him to continue.

“Hey,” Alex said softly, just before Michael could hang up. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me listen.” He hung up before Michael could think of a reply.

---

Alex eased the car door closed, not wanting to interrupt the quiet night. It wasn’t that late, was actually pretty early if you counted before midnight as early, but Alex kept to his routine anyway. Up ahead, a body lounged against the wall, a dark cowboy hat pulled low. Alex ran his eyes over the familiar form, taking in every detail he could as he came to a stop next to him.

Michael slowly looked up at him. “You came,” he greeted, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“You asked me to,” Alex reminded him. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the middle of the night. Michael had called and Alex had answered. It’s what they did.

---

Michael wasn’t sure why (that’s a lie) but he found himself pulling into Alex’s driveway three hours after he’d said goodnight to Maria. She’d asked him to stay over but he’d made some excuse he couldn’t even remember to go back to the Airstream but instead he’d driven around for hours until finding himself here.

At Alex’s house.

They didn’t do this. If they needed each other in the middle of the night, they called. They didn’t show up. Not in the last 18 months since Alex moved back had they done this. But here Michael was.

He got out of his truck and let the door fall closed. It was loud in the quiet night but Michael didn’t care. Alex’s neighbors were far enough away that they shouldn’t be too bothered by it and waking Alex was sort of the whole point of being here. Wasn’t it?

Michael made his way to Alex’s patio, his steps heavy, and dropped into one of his chairs. The metal squeaked across the bricks at the motion but Michael hardly noticed it. He planted his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t long, or maybe it was, before the front door opened and Alex stepped outside. Michael heard him close the door before making his way over to him, his crutches sounding different on the brick.

The chair next to him pulled back and a moment later Alex dropped into it. He set his crutches to the side and placed a bottle of bourbon on the table. Michael glanced at it. It was his favorite brand. Alex hated it.

“Maria has her powers because her family was experimented on at Caulfield,” Michael greeted. “And the more she uses them the more they hurt her. It’s what happened to Mimi. It’s why Mimi gave her a necklace to block her powers.”

He looked up when Alex didn’t say anything and found himself staring at Alex’s stunned face while he processed his words. “She didn’t tell you,” he realized. Alex shook his head. “Shit,” Michael cursed lowly. He’d come here to vent not to drop a bomb on Alex. “Sorry. I figured she would.” Alex shook his head again. His fingers turned white with how hard he was squeezing the arm of his chair.

Michael reached out and gently unhooked his fingers. The second Alex’s hand was free, he twisted in his own and held on tight. He knew how Alex felt about Caulfield, knew he felt guilty for his family’s actions there. He really hadn’t meant to just unload on him like that.

After a short while Alex’s grip on Michael’s hand eased and he started to breathe easier. “Okay,” he said. “What else?”

Michael stilled. “Who said there’s something else?” Alex just looked at him. Michael tried to meet his gaze but he couldn’t, finally relenting, “I don’t want her to use her powers but she wants to. She doesn’t seem to care that it could hurt her or kill her.”

Alex didn’t say anything at first, his grip tightening on Michael’s again though this time it was in comfort. “It’s her life, Guerin,” he finally said. His voice was harder than Michael was used to at this time of night. Michael opened his mouth to reply but Alex talked over him. “It is. Just because you’re dating her does not mean you get to make those choices for her. I’m not saying you have to like it or ignore the issue, but the decision’s hers. Like it or not, it’s not your call.”

Michael yanked his hand away and stood up. “So I’m just supposed to sit here and watch her self-destruct?”

Alex looked at him evenly. “If that’s what she decides to do? Yes.”

Michael shook his head. “No. That’s not gonna happen.”

“It’s not easy to watch someone self-destruct,” Alex said quietly. His voice still wasn’t any softer. Michael stifled a flinch when he realized what Alex was talking about. “But it’s not your call. Sometimes all you can do is sit back and watch.”

Michael froze, thought about what he’d said, and dismissed it. “No,” he shook his head again. With that, he spun on his heel and went back to his truck.

Alex didn’t call after him.

---

Alex knew where Michael was, knew who was with him right now, and still he called him.

“Hmm,” Michael greeted quietly. In the background, there was a rustle of sheets and Maria’s questioning murmur. Alex forced himself to listen to it as Michael made his way out of his girlfriend’s bedroom.

As Michael wordlessly made his way outside, the quiet click of doors opening and shutting revealing his path, Alex raised the bottle to his lips and took another long sip. He should stop, he knew he should. He’d passed too much at least an hour ago, but he didn’t care.

“Alex?” Michael finally asked. It was otherwise silent on his end.

“Do you have any idea how much it hurts?” Alex asked. He was pretty sure he wasn’t slurring but Michael’s next words quickly corrected him.

“You’re drunk.” He didn’t say it like a question because it wasn’t.

“I spent the day with you and your girlfriend,” Alex reminded him. “Yes, I’m drunk.”

“Alex…”

“Just talk,” Alex ordered. He didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Michael, but he needed Michael’s voice in his ear. Over a decade and he’d still never found something that helped even half as much as letting Michael ramble in his ear until his thoughts settled and he could breathe again.

Michael didn’t say anything right away. There was a pause long enough that Alex was almost about to plead with him before Michael got with the program.

“There’s a group of women who like to come by and get their cars fixed any time it’s really hot outside,” he started. “Isobel calls them the Real Housewives of Roswell…”

Alex closed his eyes and let the words wash over him. Michael never raised his voice above a murmur, his tone light and gentle, and at some point Alex capped the bottle and set it aside. He let Michael talk for almost two hours (at one point he’s fairly certain Michael started reciting the plot of his latest tv show but Alex wasn’t going to call him on it) until he was cut off by another voice. 

“Everything ok?” Maria asked. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Alex hung up before he heard Michael’s answer.

---

Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever get over the sound of the ocean. It was late, very late, and the beach was deserted except for them, and the only sound in the world was that of the waves crashing gently against the sand. 

“Heartbreak sucks,” Liz huffed. She was carving smooth circles in the sand around herself with her feet. It was the first thing she’d said since she’d joined Michael an hour before.

Michael hummed questioningly.

She gave him a sad smile and turned to look out at the water. This far out, the only light came from the moon and it made the waves shimmer. “When I first got here, I used to come out here all the time. Used to stare at the water like it held all the answers.” Her laugh was brittle and self-deprecating. “Like the ocean could fix my relationship for me.”

Michael pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on them. “I’m not sure it’s that powerful.”

She smiled. “No. But sometimes it feels that way. Like if I spent enough time here it would wash away all of the bad stuff and leave all the good. All the parts that love Max enough to fix are problems.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighed. “I get that.”

Liz bumped his shoulder with hers. “You’ll be okay, Mikey. If you and Maria are meant to be, you will be. It’s just a few rough patches.”

Michael couldn’t help himself, he laughed. Liz stared at him in surprise. “Yeah, no, Maria and I are done. It’s not a rough patch.”

She furrowed her brow. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. And so does she. We’re not meant for each other, no matter that we love each other.”

Liz frowned and shifted over to rest her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Michael hummed. He couldn’t quite bring himself to agree with her, even though he knew that’s what she was probably expecting. Maria had done the right thing ending things between them. He’d tried to deny it at first but he’d quickly come to accept it. They really weren’t meant for each other. Maria was meant for better men than him and he was meant for one specific person. The rest of the world paled in comparison and Michael had finally stopped denying it. To himself at least. 

“You’ll find someone,” Liz assured him. “You deserve to be happy, Michael.”

Michael smiled. “So do you. Even if it is with my idiot brother.”

Liz’s lips quirked upwards but she didn’t say anything. They sat in silence watching the waves for a while before Liz sat up with a groan. “I need sleep.” Michael sat where he was as she stumbled to her feet and held out her hand. “You coming?”

Michael shook his head. “I’m good here. Not like I have to work in the morning,” he teased. 

Liz gave him a searching look before shrugging. “You know the way back, right?” Michael nodded and she left. He heard her trudging through the sand behind him until she hit the road. 

When the sound of her car had faded into the night, Michael dug his phone out of his pocket and called Alex.

“How’s California?” 

“I like the ocean,” Michael replied. “It’s peaceful.”

“It is,” Alex agreed. “I always felt small, though. Standing on a beach. The entire world out there in front of you and you can’t see any of it because there’s just water.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.”

“How’s Liz?”

“She’s good. Obsessed with her work. Misses Max for some reason.”

Alex laughed. “Can’t imagine why she’d do that.”

“I can,” Michael confesses, the night giving him courage. “I miss you.”

Alex inhaled sharply. “Guerin-”

“Hey, it’s after midnight, doesn’t count, right?” Michael cut him off. He wasn’t ready for the big conversation just yet. 

“No lies after midnight,” Alex reminded him.

“Who said I was lying?” The next wave brushed dangerously close to his toes. Michael didn’t move. There was a voice on the other end of the phone, faint but recognizable. “Is that Forrest?”

“...yeah,” Alex muttered. “Hold on.” There was a shift and then the sound was muffled like Alex had covered the receiver. “‘Night,” Michael heard him say, followed by what sounded like a kiss.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” Forrest asked.

“No, I’ve got an early morning,” Alex hedged. “No point.”

“Okay.” Another kiss. “Good night.”

Michael waited until he heard the door close and the sound cleared up before speaking. “Not up to sleepovers, yet?”

“No,” Alex replied. Michael wasn’t sure if it was an answer or an order but either way Alex’s tone left no room for discussion so Michael dropped it. Problem was, he didn’t know what else to say. The mood from earlier was gone. Alex cleared his throat. “I miss you too.”

Michael felt his lips turn up in a helpless smile. “Yeah?”

Alex hummed. “I’ve kinda been wanting to show you the ocean for years now. I’m a little annoyed I didn’t get to.”

“Well,” Michael swallowed. “I hear there’s an entirely different ocean on the other side of the country.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Just something to consider.”

“Good to know.”

Silence fell over them again. Normally this is when Alex would start humming but Michael wasn’t sure he could take it right now. Not now that he knew the words to go with the song. 

“Night, Alex,” he finally said. “I’ll be back next week.”

“Good night, Michael.”

They hung up. Michael stared at his phone, trying hard not to think about how much softer Alex had sounded telling him good night than when he’d said it to Forrest. It wouldn’t do him any good to compare himself to Alex’s boyfriend. Their time was now. His and Alex’s would come. He believed that.

He had to.

---

Forrest snuffled and reached for him as he got out of bed. Alex paused and waited to make sure he hadn’t woken up before he grabbed his crutches and hauled himself upright. 

Navigating out of his bedroom in the dark with his phone tucked under his chin and both crutches in his hands while trying not to wake up the man sleeping in his bed was harder than he’d anticipated but Alex managed it. In the hallway, he paused just long enough to ease the door closed behind him before making his way outside. 

It was late, late enough that Alex almost expected to see the beginnings of the dawn on the horizon, but he hadn’t been able to sleep yet. Tonight was the first time Forrest had stayed over, the first time Alex had had to share his bed with someone other than Michael for longer than a few hours, and he wasn’t dealing with it as well as he’d hoped he would.

He didn’t even hesitate before he called Michael.

“Alex?” Michael sounded groggy.

“Fuck you,” Alex replied. He dug the palm of his free hand into his eye. 

“What did I do now?” He sounded simultaneously wide awake and more tired than he had a moment before.

“He’s not you.”

“Alex-”

“You got to move on, why can’t I? Why can’t I make this work? Why can’t I be with someone who’s not you?”

“Alex-”

Alex hung up.

---

It was late when Alex showed up at the Airstream. The fire was mostly embers and Michael was on his second and last beer of the night. When Alex got out of his car, Michael put his beer down and stood to greet him. He meant to meet him halfway but Alex was quicker on his feet and met Michael before he’d gotten more than a handful of steps. The last gasps of the fire provided little light but what light there was danced across Alex’s face.

“It’s late,” Michael greeted. He’d been back from California for almost two weeks and this was the first time Michael had seen him since then. 

“Yeah,” Alex agreed. He looked at Michael with a strange look in his eyes. If Michael didn’t know any better he’d say Alex came here for a reason. A very specific reason that didn’t involve a lot talking. “It’s almost four.” He stared at Michael until Michael got it. What happened in the early hours before dawn, when the night was at its peak, didn’t count. They’d scraped together a decade long relationship on that premise alone. The secrets, the fears, the hopes, the dreams, anything confessed across a phone line when the moon was high in the sky, didn’t count. Not really. Sure, lately they’d expanded that to in person conversations but Alex wasn’t here for a conversation and he wanted the same rules to apply. What happened between them at this time of night only existed in the here and now. It didn’t carry over into the daylight. 

Michael knew it was probably a bad idea. As they’d both said many a time, their relationship involved too much sex and too little talking when they were actually together and that had been their downfall. They were doing better lately but they weren’t there yet and Michael had no idea how introducing sex would impact them now. And that didn’t even take into account the fact that Alex still had a boyfriend who wasn’t Michael. But if Alex wasn’t going to mention that part, neither was Michael. He took one careful step towards Alex. “So it is,” he agreed. 

Alex waited a second, searching his face for confirmation, before he lunged forward and kissed him. His hands went straight to Michael’s hair, tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck while Michael clutched at his waist and pressed them as close together as they could possibly be.

They lost themselves in each other for long enough that when Michael finally pulled back to catch a breath, even the embers had died off. Alex trailed his lips down his neck and found that one spot that drove Michael crazy. The spot that no one else had ever found. “Alex,” he moaned. Alex’s only reaction was to start leading Michael backwards until his back hit the side of the Airstream with a gentle thud. Michael braced himself against it, cupped Alex’s face and pulled his lips back up to his.

Michael lost his shirt and his boots right there and Alex’s shirt found its way to the ground as they maneuvered the two steps it took to get to the door. They had to separate to get inside and Michael felt like he could hardly breathe during those few seconds. When Alex was finally inside, Michael pulled him close. It made walking back to the bed difficult but neither attempted to pull away again. 

When they finally did, Alex didn’t go far. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at his prosthetic for long enough that Michael decided to press his luck. “Stay,” he asked softly. Alex’s shoulders tensed and his eyes closed. “It’s still dark out,” Michael pointed out. “Sun’s not gonna come up for hours.”

That made Alex look back at him and Michael couldn’t help but kiss him again, his fingers sliding through Alex’s sweaty hair to hold him close. “Stay.”

Alex pulled away again to fish his phone out of his pants and set an alarm but then he was back in Michael’s arms. He still hadn’t said more than five words since he showed up but Michael didn’t care. Not yet anyway.

Whether or not either of them got any sleep was a question neither was inclined to ask nor answer but when Alex’s alarm went off just as the sky was starting to lighten outside his window, neither moved. They stayed where they were, Alex half on top of Michael, his fingers reaching up to tangle in his curls. Michael was busy trailing a finger up and down Alex’s arm. 

Eventually, though, the sky got light enough to force Alex into action. “Sun’s up,” he murmured. He paused and considered the view out the window. “Well. Almost.” He kissed Michael, slow and thorough, before pulling away completely. 

Michael watched silently as Alex got dressed. When Alex was ready, sans his shirt which was still outside, he stopped and considered Michael still laying in the bed. With another glance out the window, he leaned down and kissed Michael one last time before turning and leaving without another word. 

---

Michael didn’t hear from Alex for days after the night they spent together. It wasn’t too surprising nor was it unusual; their calls had never been an overly frequent occurrence and their paths didn’t cross in town much. But still, it made Michael antsy. He knew the point of it was that they wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t even mention it, but dammit, Michael had questions. He needed to know what it meant, both in the present and for the future, and whether or not he should be prepared for it to happen again. 

He was still trying to figure out to bring it up with Alex when the opportunity dropped into his lap. Liz’s welcome back party at the Crashdown started five minutes ago and he was running late. After spending too long searching for a parking space, he hurried around the corner to the diner only to find Alex and Forrest just ahead of him. Alex’s shoulders were tense and there was a careful distance between the two men but they were still clearly together.

“Alex,” Michael called before he could stop himself. Alex froze in his tracks as Forrest turned to greet Michael. Michael nodded at Forrest in hello and waited for Alex to turn around. He eventually did, at first not quite looking at him before clearly forcing himself to meet his eyes. 

“Guerin,” he greeted. “We’re all late,” he reminded them as he started to take careful steps towards the diner entrance. Forrest offered Michael a strained smile before following him and suddenly Michael was done.

He took his phone out of his pocket and called Alex.

The ringtone sounded loud and sharp and Forrest looked at Alex in surprise. “Since when do you have the volume on?”

Alex put a hand on his pocket over his phone and didn’t answer. They all stood there as Alex waited for the phone to stop ringing. Taking mercy on him, Michael ended the call, watched Alex’s shoulders relax, and called again.

This time, Alex had a hand on the door when his phone went off and his knuckles went white around it. “Are you going to answer that?” Forrest asked.

Alex sighed heavily and nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He pulled his phone out and put it to his ear. “Not now,” was all he said, his voice echoing through Michael’s phone, before hanging up and trying to tuck it away again.

Michael called him back.

Alex let out an actual groan of frustration before turning around. “Forrest, we’ll meet you inside.” Forrest looked between them before nodding slowly and stepping around Alex and into the diner. When the door shut behind him Alex led Michael around the corner and across the street for a modicum of privacy.

“It’s daytime,” Alex pointed out.

Michael looked up at the sun shining above them and nodded. “I thought that’s what the sun meant.”

“Michael,” Alex huffed. “What do you need, right now?”

“Answers,” Michael replied simply.

“It was 4am,” Alex reminded him. “What happens at 4am stays there. We don’t talk about it, we don’t ask questions, we don’t fucking bring it up in the middle of the day.”

“Maybe we should.”

“No.” Alex shook his head. “You don’t get to change the rules now.”

“I’m not trying to change the rules! I’m trying to understand.”

“Understand what?!” Alex shot back. “It was a 4am thing. It doesn’t mean anything.” Michael was stunned silent and Alex took advantage of it to walk past him. “We’re late for Liz’s lunch.”

Michael shook his head and spun. “It meant something!” Michael yelled after him. Alex stopped in his tracks. Just ahead, their friends turned the corner, clearly looking for them but Michael ignored them. “Of course it meant something, Alex, it always means something! And I am sick and tired of us pretending that it doesn’t.” Alex turned slowly to face him as Michael closed the distance between them. “Every single phone call,” he said quietly but earnestly. “They meant something. They mean something.” He shook his head. “They’re not nothing,” he pleaded gently.

“They’ve never been nothing,” Alex agreed softly.

A weight lifted off his chest and Michael breathed a little easier. “Maybe I am trying to change the rules but I think the rules need to change,” Michael said. “We can’t not talk about those things. About-”

“Michael-” Alex cut him off.

“Alex.”

Alex turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder and Michael was suddenly reminded of their audience. Forrest, Kyle, Maria, and Liz were standing on the corner staring at them. “Now’s not the time,” Alex finished. 

Suddenly, the last thing Michael wanted to do was sit through a lunch with all their friends and Alex’s boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He stepped around Alex, careful not to touch him, and walked over to their friends. He greeted Liz with a quick hug. “Welcome home, Liz. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to miss your lunch.”

“We’ll do something another time,” Liz agreed easily. He nodded at her and crossed the street to his truck, pulling away before anyone could even think of calling after him.

---

Alex heard Michael pull away and didn’t move. He waited until three sets of footsteps walked away and he knew there was only one person left behind him. Still, he hesitated before turning around.

“So,” Forrest started. “I think it’s safe to say this thing between us has run its course.”

“Forrest,” Alex started but Forrest held up a hand to stop him.

“It’s okay, Alex. I knew we weren’t going to last forever. But we had some good times and I don’t regret it.”

“I didn’t want it to end like this,” Alex told him sincerely. 

Forrest cocked his head slightly. “Where did you go three nights ago?” Alex looked away. “It was the first night you agreed to stay over at my place but you disappeared for hours, snuck back in after sunrise. Where’d you go, Alex?” His voice was soft with understanding but Alex heard the hurt in it.

He couldn’t lie. “I went to Michael.”

Forrest nodded like it was exactly what he expected to hear. “Wasn’t just a chat was it?” Alex shook his head. “He’s who you’re meant to be with.”

“Forrest, this was real.” Alex needed him to know.

“I know it was. But I’m not Michael Guerin so it was never going to work.” Alex didn’t know what to say to that except-

“I’m sorry.”

Forrest swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “See you around Alex.”

And then he was gone.

Alex tried really hard to convince himself the next breath he took wasn’t one of relief and he couldn’t quite succeed.

He took a moment to pull himself together and followed after him. Only, when he turned the corner it was Liz leaning up against the wall with Forrest nowhere in sight. 

“Let me guess. You’re skipping out on my lunch, too?” She didn’t look too upset about it so Alex didn’t feel too bad when he nodded. She huffed a small laugh and shook her head. “You two are a mess.”

“Don’t worry, we’re well aware,” Alex assured her.

She smirked. “I’m sure you are.” She jerked her thumb behind her. “Mikey took off that way so I don’t think he’s headed back to the scrapyard.” Alex looked down the street in the direction she indicated and knew immediately where Michael had gone. “Hey,” Liz put her hand on his arm to get his attention. “Don’t fuck it up this time, yeah? Either of you.”

“We’ll do our best.” He gave her a quick hug and a promise to meet up later and hurried away to his own car. 

It was a relatively short drive out to their spot and Alex made it shorter.

Michael’s truck was in the same spot it had always been and Alex parked next to it. He didn’t see Michael but he wasn’t too worried. Alex rounded the car and pulled the liftgate down to reveal Michael sprawled on his back in the truck bed.

“Should I have called?” Alex asked.

Michael opened his eyes and looked at him. “No,” he replied. “I think we need to get used to doing this the old fashioned way.” He held out a hand and helped Alex get up next to him, moving only slightly to give Alex room.

“Forrest broke up with me,” Alex announced.

“Oh?” 

Alex hummed. “Asked me where I went three nights ago and then told me we were never going to work because he’s not Michael Guerin.” Michael didn’t say anything. “He wasn’t wrong.”

Michael shifted so they were looking at each other. “Are we ready now? I know I am.”

“I just got out of a relationship twenty minutes ago,” Alex reminded him.

“So is that a no?”

Alex sighed and looked up at the clouds. “No. It’s an ‘I wish I was a better person’.”

Michael gripped the front of Alex’s shirt and tugged lightly until Alex looked at him. “So are we doing this?”

“What is this?” Alex asked, needing clarification or rather needing there to be no confusion.

“This. Us. For real. No more walking away. No more hiding behind middle of the night phone calls. No more seeing other people. Just us.”

Alex rolled over onto his shoulder so he could look down at Michael. “For good?”

“That is the idea.” Michael’s eyes were more serious than Alex could ever remember seeing them.

“Good. But no fuck ups, okay?” Alex put his hand to Michael’s chest. “We go all in, I’m not sure either of us will recover from it going bad.”

Michael wrapped an arm around Alex’s back, his other hand going to Alex’s cheek. “We won’t. It may not be perfect all the time but we’re not going to fuck it up.”  Alex took the words for the solemn vow they were and kissed him. 

---

Epilogue

Michael had no idea what the fight was about. He wasn’t even sure it was actually about anything. They’d both been stressed for days about different things and they hadn’t had much time together and suddenly they were shouting at each other over the dishes. 

He watched Alex storm away and part of him felt relieved. It had been going too well for months now and he had to admit he’d been waiting for something like this to happen. 

When Alex didn’t come back after a few minutes, Michael finished up the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. That done, he crossed the empty house to the living room and picked up Alex’s guitar. Part of him didn’t want to disturb the silence in case it led to another fight somehow but he couldn’t sit around doing nothing so he started picking his way carefully through one of the new songs he was learning, taking it slow and playing quietly. 

When the song under his fingers turned into Alex’s song a few minutes later, he wasn’t surprised. Ever since he figured out how to play it, it was one of his favorites, his body long used to relaxing to the melody.

As the last chords echoed in the room (he may have been playing louder than he meant to), his phone started ringing. Somehow he wasn’t surprised to see Alex’s face on the screen. Setting the guitar down, he answered.

“Too loud?”

“No,” Alex replied. “Can you-” he cut himself off with a groan. “Can you just-”

The last of the tension slipped from him as he settled back against the couch and started rambling about his week. Halfway through, Alex stepped inside from the back patio and hung up. Michael let his phone drop as Alex curled up next to him on the couch but he never stopped talking. When he ran out of things to say, Alex took up the slack and filled him in on his own week. 

The sun went down around them and Michael didn’t notice.

“Hey,” Alex sat up once he’d finished and they’d enjoyed a few moments of quiet. “No fair using my own song against me.”

Michael smirked. “Whatever works. But truthfully, I was playing it for myself. For some reason I’m practically conditioned to relax when I hear it.”

“Oh really?” Alex hummed, a smirk tugging at his own lips. “Wonder why.”

Michael shrugged. “It’s a mystery.”

#malex fic #my fic #rnm #long post #does contain minor/mentions of miluca and forlex and alex cheats on forrest with michael #so warning for that i guess

[breanime]

Hey love! Would loveee to see “Who did this?” With our favorite cartel boss/papi, Miguel Galindo!

TW: abuse, physical abuse, violence

The last thing you wanted to do was go to Miguel with your problems. You’d been his rock, and he was yours, but then his pinche gringa came back into his life after her last boyfriend got locked up, and he got all caught up in the idea of having her on his arm and well…

Your man dropped you like a bad habit.

So you moved on.

You married a man who you liked, but didn’t love, and moved to live with him. It was hard—impossible—not to compare him to Miguel, but you tried to look past the fact that he wasn’t Miguel Galindo. That was the point, actually. He wasn’t Miguel, he was supposed to be good to you.

But he wasn’t.

And so now it was 2 in the morning, and you were pulling up to Miguel’s mansion—home. You couldn’t see them, but you knew there were security all over the place. Even though it was the middle of the night, you were confident that someone knew you were there. You parked, sighing, and put your head on the wheel.

“This was a mistake,” you said outloud to yourself, “This was so dumb. I’m an idiot, I…”

You were interrupted by someone knocking on your window. You jumped, looking up to see a frowning Nestor. You rolled your window down.

“Y/N… What are you doing here?” He asked. He squinted. “And why are you wearing shades? The sun isn’t even out yet.”

“I, uh… Was wondering if I could talk to Miguel? Ask a favor?” You paused. “I mean… if he’s even here?”

“He’s here,” Nestor opened your door for you, “It might actually do Mikey some good, seeing you…”

You stepped out, staring up at the house through your sunglasses. This could have been your life, instead of…

You let Nestor lead you through the house, trying—and failing—not to ogle. You could easily tell which items had been picked out by Miguel, by Dita, and by the wife—there wasn’t much that seemed to belong to Emily. You could tell Nestor had questions, but he was trying to play the role of bodyguard and not old friend, so he just stayed quiet.

“Hold on,” he said, stopping in front of a closed door, “I’ll tell him you’re here.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself, and waited.

Three minutes later, Miguel walked out, followed by Nestor. Nestor gave you a smile as he walked off, and then you were left face to face with the only man you’d ever love—

—the man who broke your heart.

“Y/N,” he said, sounding breathless even though you were sure he’d just been sitting at his desk a minute ago, “This is a surprise.” He held an arm out, angling his body so that you could move past him. “Come in.”

Miguel smelled like Miguel: expensive cologne and the same aftershave he’d been using since you met him. You walked into his office and noted the sparse decorations and feel of power in it. That was all Miguel.

“I, uh, saw that you moved a few years back,” he said, going over to his desk, “Are you moving back here?” He gestured to the seat across from him.

“Um… No, I mean… I don’t think so,” you answered, taking a seat. “I…” You sighed. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about this, Miguel.” You stood up, heart pounding. “I shouldn’t have come here, I shouldn’t—”

“—Hey,” he stood up, too, coming around and putting his hand on your arm, “What’s going on?”

You took a breath. How did he still look so good at 2 in the morning through the darkened lens of your sunglasses? “I need a favor.”

Miguel took a step back, frowning, his hands on his hips. “A favor?” He repeated. “I haven’t heard from you in how long, and you want a favor?”

“I know,” you shook your head, “It’s… I don’t deserve one, I know—”

“—I didn’t say that,” he interrupted, “I’m just… confused. What kind of favor?” His eyes narrowed. “And what’s with the glasses?”

You wanted to lie. You wanted to run away and disappear in a hole. You wanted him to hold you. You wanted so many things, but in the end, even though Miguel broke your heart and made you feel smaller than a cockroach, when you were in trouble, he was the only one you wanted to run to.

You just wanted Miguel.

So, to answer his question, you took off your sunglasses.

You watched Miguel’s eyes go wide, and then go dark with rage. He was in front of you now, his chest heaving as he stared at your black eye. “Who did this?” He asked, his voice low and just barely above a growl.

You took a breath. “Greg. My husband.” You answered.

Miguel made a noise, his hand going to the side of your face. “Pendejo,” he said under his breath, “I’m gonna…” He stopped himself. “When did this happen? He do this tonight?”

You nodded. “I, uh… He…” You blinked, suddenly your eyes were filling with tears, and suddenly you were crying. You couldn’t stop, you were shaking, you were short of breath.

Miguel grabbed you and held you to his chest, his hands wrapping around you—and suddenly, you were safe. “Shh,” he whispered into your hair, “don’t cry, mi corazon, don’t cry… I promise you, I’ll take care of this…” You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. “He will never hurt you again.”

“I know,” you said into his chest, “I killed him.”

Miguel pulled back. “You killed him?”

“I—I—I think so,” you answered, “He was… He was hitting me, and throwing me around, and…” You gripped Miguel’s sleeves. “…I hit him over the head with a bottle, and he fell, and I don’t know if…”

“I’m on it,” he said, “Wait here.” He kissed your forehead before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

You sunk into the chair, wiping your eyes. Shit shit shit. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what Miguel was going to do, shit—you weren’t even sure what you’d done. Did you murder a man? And if you did… Shouldn’t you feel bad?

Miguel came back in with two glasses of bourbon. He handed one to you and took the other. “I’m sending a few guys to your place,” he told you, sitting across from you, “They’re gonna assess the situation, and get back to me.” He eyed you, and you knew—because you knew Miguel—that he was wondering what damage you had that he couldn’t see. “You’re staying here tonight.”

You blinked. “Oh, no, I… I couldn’t. I was just gonna get a room at a motel.”

“Please,” he said, and you knew that word didn’t cross his lips often, “Just stay here. I just… I need to know you’re safe.”

“Your wife won’t mind?”

He gave a humorless chuckle. “My wife isn’t here,” he shrugged, “marital problems,” he explained.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “I know what that’s like…”

Miguel’s face darkened. “Was this the first time?” He asked.

You shrugged one shoulder. “It used to be just yelling and screaming,” you said casually, “then it was getting in my face, but tonight, he just…” You shuddered just thinking about it. “I thought he was going to kill me…” You put your head in your hands. “Oh God, Miguel, what am I going to do?”

“Hey,” he reached over the desk and took your hand, lowering it so he could see your face, “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it… I promise you, mi amor, I’ll take care of it.”

You pulled your hand back. He was helping you out, doing you a favor, but you couldn’t let yourself fall back into the Miguel pool. Last time you were in it, you nearly drowned. “Don’t… You can’t call me that, Miguel,” you said, “not anymore…”

“Why not?” He asked.

“Because that’s what you used to call me back when…” You swallowed. “You shouldn’t call me that.”

“But it’s as true now as it was back then,” Miguel said back, “Can you just…” He sighed. “Imagine if things would have turned out the way they should have… you and me…” He shook his head. “…That son of a bitch would have never put his hands on you.”

“You fell in love with the pinche—with Emily,” you amended, “and you have this life now… It’s… You’re doing well—great, actually.”

“I’m successful, yes,” he nodded, “but I’m not happy. I’m not in love—I mean, I am… I’m in love with you.”

“Miguel…”

“I never stopped loving you,” he went on, “And I know it’s my fault that we… I messed us up, I know that, and I will never forgive myself for that, but I want… I want to start over.”

“You’re married,” you reminded him, “I’m married.”

“Only if you didn’t kill him,” he answered, “and even if you didn’t; I will.”

You blinked, your heart pounding. “You—you would kill him?”

“If you haven’t already? Yeah,” he nodded, “of course I would kill for you. No question. Now,” he stood up and walked over to you, his hand going to your cup your face, “Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed.”

You let Miguel take your hand and lead you to the bathroom. He washed your face, his eyes lingering on your various bruises. He brought you some clothes—which he promised weren’t his wife’s—and you took a nice, hot shower. When you got out, Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen.

“Have you eaten?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Not since lunch time…”

“Oh, baby,” he sighed, “Here, sit. Let me make you something…”

You sat, hands in your lap as you watched Miguel move around the kitchen.

“You know, a few years ago,” he said, his back to you, “you would have been making fun of me for this…” He turned, sliding a glass of orange juice over to you. “You used to hate my cooking.”

“Yeah, well,” you took a sip of your juice, “A few years ago, I wasn’t married to a man who thought slamming me into a wall was communication. This,” you toasted him with the OJ, “is luxury to me.” You shrugged, pausing when you saw the look on Miguel’s face—he looked murderous. “I just mean…”

“I know what you mean,” he said, turning back to the stove, “Things have changed, for both of us. And that’s on me.”

The two of you didn’t speak for a while after that. You ate in silence, and Miguel had to take a call after, so you took yourself to bed. You sleep like a baby, comfortable in Miguel’s guest room and enjoyed a dreamless sleep. When you woke up, after you got dressed, you spent a good ten minutes staring in the mirror. Your eye was black and purple, so you threw on your shades before stepping out and finding Miguel. He was in his office, at his desk, going through papers.

“Hi…” You said, arms wrapped around yourself.

“Good morning, mi… Good morning,” he said, standing up. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really well,” you answered, “thank you… Did you find out…?”

“He lived,” Miguel shrugged, “Nestor’s got him on my church pew right now.”

“Your what?” You asked, letting Miguel take your sunglasses off. He pocketed them and put his hand on your face, angling it.

“My church pew,” he answered, “It’s where I do my… messier business.”

“So he’s still alive?”

“For now.” Miguel’s hand went to the back of your neck, warm and gentle. “There are some things we need to discuss, hermosa,” he said.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like what’s next.” He moved a strand of hair out of your face. “I’m going to kill him,” he said, not at all shy about his murderous intentions, “and I’m going to enjoy it. It’s going to be slow,” he went on, “and I’m going to make sure he knows that this is because of what he did to you. And then,” his hand dropped away from your face, “I’m going to come back here, shower, and start seeing what exactly it is I have to do to get you back.” He smiled. “What’s next for you?”

“You… You’re still married. And so am I—”

“—only for the next few hours,” he said back, “and I’m separated. Emily’s been dragging her feet on signing the papers, but everything’s in the works. You know I’m still in love with you, mi corazon, and I know you came back because you needed this favor, and that’s fine. But I’m in love with you. And I fucked things up, I know, by settling for Emily, but I want to spend the rest of my days making it up to you.”

Your heart was pounding. You hadn’t felt like this—weightless and warm and safe and wanted—for so long…since you’d last been with Miguel. “I can’t stay here, Miguel.”

“Yes you can.”

“I can’t.” You smiled. “I need my own space, and I need to rebuild. I need to find myself again…” You took a breath. “But if you want to start making things up to me… Maybe you can let me stay here for a few days until I find a place?”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

“And maybe we can… go out to dinner sometime…” You said. Miguel’s eyes brightened, and you smiled. “Reminisce on the old days, talk about that time you killed my husband…”

“If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I’ll hurt him, and for the record, I think he needs to be put down, but if you don’t want me to…” He licked his lips. “I’m serious, Y/N, I’ll do anything to get you back. And I realize it won’t happen overnight, but… I’d like to try.”

“Did you mean it?” You asked. “When you said you love me still?”

“Yes,” he said back, no hesitation, “I love you.”

You reached out and took his hand in yours. “I can’t… I can’t say it back… not yet…”

“Not yet?” He repeated, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.

“But,” you went on, “I can say this…” You stepped up and pressed your lips against his, and you felt Miguel’s hands on your waist, keeping you close. When you stepped back, his eyes were still closed. “Thank you.”

“Anything,” he said, opening his eyes. He reached out and brushed his thumb against your bottom lip. “For you, I’d do anything.”

Anything, according to Miguel, ended up meaning a lot. He went with you to your husband’s funeral, sent his lawyer with you to the meeting with the life insurance people, took you out for dinners and invited you over for homemade brunches, helped you find a nice condo, bought you and Dita gorgeous flowers for Valentine’s Day, and took you on some wonderful dates.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up in his arms to his soft kisses and caresses, laughing with him as you watched TV, and rubbing his forehead after he’d had a long day. You stood by his side when Emily came to collect the last of her things, and Miguel whisked you away to the Bahamas the day after…

…and when you moved into his place, there was nothing around but smiles—from Dita, to Nestor, all the way up to your man: Miguel himself. And that night, as he kissed you and held you and told you how much he adored you, you knew that you were where you belonged. And if you did come across a problem…

…you could always go to Miguel to solve it.

*******************************************************************************************

Ya’ll see what I did there? I tried to make this a “getting back together” with Miguel fic. Also, this got long as hell and I don’t know how. Thanks for reading!

Everything Taglist: @encounterthepast @jigsawlover10 @gollyderek @charlylama @realduckvader @teacuplotus @whovianayesha  @lexxierave @loveintheroyalfamily  @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @maxslime-blog @songforhema @lucielandss @themadhatter92  @christinawxxx @anabella-baby @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @luminex3 @ashkuuuu @luckysstrikes @carlaangel86 @floralpeaceofmind @dylanobrusso @iaintnofurry  @ymariejp @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @mrsjaxtellerfan @holamor @drinix @rhabakoli @stories-you-wont-hear @king4thesirens @leahnicole1219 @evanlys19 @binbons-is-theloml @aikeia @bitch-imma-head-out​  @witchygagirl @geeksareunique @sparrows-books

Nick Amaro/Miguel Galindo Taglist: @glimmerglittergirl @cococruz-mayansmc  

Mayans MC Taglist: @vicmackeybullshxt

#miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo #mayans mc #breanime's mini drabbles

[chubbyreaderwriter]

Matchmaker

Mycroft Holmes x Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Prompt:  Could you write a one-shot where the reader is a dectective in Scotland yard, who met sherlock for the first time recently and sherlock still knowing that his brother is lonely decides that she would be a perfect fit for him and tries to set her and mycroft up... Basically I'm looking for a sherlock plays matchmaker.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none? 

Masterlist 

“So dead man on the floor, house ransacked, what do you think?...Sherlock? Sherlock!” Said man jumped out of his trance and turned to face Lestrade who was looking at him with frustration, “Well?” Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Come on Garret, this is easy even for you, wedding ring missing from the finger, seemingly half the possessions gone, absence of any pictures. It was the wife if you couldn’t see that already. Now enough about that, who’s she?” Greg sighed and rubbed his face with his hand before looking over to where Sherlock was facing, “Detective (L/N)? What about her?” 

Sherlock said nothing, just observed you and Greg looked at John next to him. The former soldier just shrugged, “I don’t question it anymore Greg, I’m sorry.” Greg looked at Sherlock, then you, then back to Sherlock, “You like her or summit?” Sherlock hummed in approval, “Not for me.” John chuckled from how confusing his friend was being but like he said, he didn’t question it. 

Without a word of warning, Sherlock made his way over to you, “Hi, I have a proposition for you which I have no doubt you’d be interested in. I would like to have you accompany a friend of mine to an evening meal. Judging by the past few failed relationships, you don’t like being lonely, even if you know you’re not compatible. But you’ve been making more of an effort in your appearance lately which can only mean you’re looking for another relationship.” You chuckled to yourself, “And you must be Sherlock. Given what people say about you, the last thing I expected you to be doing was setting me up on a date.” 

Sherlock huffed impatiently, “Yes yes, now will you go on the date or not?” He clasped his hands together, a silent plead for you to accept. You thought it over for a few moments, could it really hurt to try it out? And you doubted someone who called themselves a detective would actively put you in danger so what was the harm? Nodding your head, “Okay fine, but you owe me.” Sherlock scoffed but shook your hand, “Deal, here’s your phone back, I’ll text you with the details.” You were shocked but mostly confused when Sherlock gave you your phone back, when did he take it from you? You weren’t really mad at him though, he had given you something to be excited about. 

It had been a while since you had any excuse to dress up for an occasion and Sherlock had just presented it to you on a silver platter. Normally, you wouldn’t agree to this kind of thing but it had been difficult to date because of your new job now, being a detective was a turn off for most men, it seemed like. 

. . .

“A what?” Sherlock rolled his eyes at his older brother, “A date, I know it’s been a while but you must remember what a date is.” Mycroft let out a sigh of frustration, “And what makes you think you can meddle with my love life like this?” Sherlock looked at Mycroft, “Oh get over yourself, you’re lonely and you know it, I’m just trying to help. Maybe then you won’t be so...you.” Mycroft glared at Sherlock, “Listen brother mine, how many times do I have to tell you that I am not lonely. I do not need you to be playing matchmaker for me, if I wanted to be in a relationship, I could easily go out and find myself one.” 

Sherlock accidentally snorted from holding back a laugh, “You really think so?” At the sight of his brother’s anger, Sherlock calmed down, “Just go on the date, you’ll thank me later, she’s lovely.” Mycroft gritted his teeth, “Who is ‘she’?” Sherlock texted his brother a picture of you that he had taken from your Facebook profile, “Her name is (Y/N) (L/N) and she works with Graham.” Mycroft frowned, “Who is Graham?” Sherlock looked down at his phone as he started flicking through twitter, “Oh you know Graham, Scotland Yard, grey hair, could stand to lose a few pounds.” Mycroft leaned back in his chair, “You mean Greg Lestrade.” Sherlock nodded, “That’s what I said.” 

Sherlock turned and left his brother’s office, but Mycroft shouted after him, “Where am I supposed to be going?!” He didn’t hear a response but his phone vibrated to show a text from Sherlock with the time and address. He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand, why did he have a feeling he was going to regret this? Mycroft was tempted to just refuse to go on the date to annoy his brother but as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was lonely and a little companionship might be nice for once. Spending each night alone in his large, empty house was getting rather tiring over time. 

. . . 

You had been told to dress ‘fancy’ so you had worn your best dress in your closet, a long sleeved, off the shoulder light pink knee length dress that flattered your body by making your waist seem smaller to give you more of an hourglass shape. You had your hair styled just how you liked it and you had decided to wear heels for this date because you didn’t want to risk seeming under-dressed and you didn’t have any flats that would match the dress. You had a small clutch that had your purse, some makeup and perfume in, as well as your keys. 

You had taken a taxi to the address Sherlock had given and you were not surprised to see a very fancy restaurant, one that looked more intimidating than anything else. You weren’t sure what to do but luckily as you were stood staring at the building, you heard someone clear their throat next to you. You turned to see a man dressed in a suit and had an umbrella with them? It hadn’t been raining but you decided not to question it. You smiled at them, “Hello,” 

Mycroft had been a little taken aback when he saw you, you almost seemed too good to be true. He was never someone who had much preference for looks, but you were just so beautiful. He could tell by the look on your face that you had never been here before and were nervous, symptoms of a blind date he presumed. He walked over to you and cleared his throat to get your attention and when you smiled at him, he almost forgot what to say, you had such a captivating smile. When you started to look weary of him, he realised he actually had to say something to you, “My apologies, I don’t suppose you’re here because of Sherlock?” Your shoulders dropped slightly in relief, “Yes I am, are you my date for this evening?” 

Mycroft nodded in agreement and held out his arm for you to take. While the date wasn’t his idea, he was still going to be a gentleman. Your nerves started again when you walked inside the building, it was all so elegant and posh and you felt really out of place in here. You bit your bottom lip as you looked around, half listening to your date talk to the hostess. It was then that you realised you didn’t know his name yet. When the two of you were taken to a table, you cleared your throat, “I’m (Y/N) by the way, it’s nice to meet you,” Mycroft hummed, “Likewise, I’m Mycroft.” Your eyes widened a little, “Mycroft? That’s an unusual name isn’t it? I like it though.” 

Mycroft studied over you, trying to pick up on all the deductions he could about you but he seemed to have a little trouble concentrating and everything was a bit of a blur. You leaned forward a little, “So how do you know Sherlock?” Mycroft straightened in his seat, “He’s my little brother?” Mycroft could see the amusement in your face, “Really? What’s it like having a genius for a brother?” Mycroft scoffed, “I wouldn’t say he’s a genius, I’ve always considered myself the smartest between us.” You could help but chuckle a little to yourself and when you saw Mycroft’s confused and partially offended expression, you explained yourself, “If you were really that smart, you would’ve noticed that I’d rather have this date anywhere but here. I’m not made for fine dining.” 

Normally, this would have annoyed Mycroft, not being able to see something as obvious as this. But you intrigued him so he was more focused on learning more about you. He waited until there was the least amount of people watching and then grabbed your hand, leading you outside of the restaurant, “Where do you propose we go now?” You turned to him and looked at him with a curious expression, “You want to go watch a movie together?” Mycroft hummed, “It depends on the types of movies you prefer.” You smiled, “I like old movies.” “Hm, then I believe I have something to show you.” And that was how you found yourself being driven to Mycroft’s house.

It was weird that you didn’t feel uncomfortable around him, you didn’t feel scared of him or felt any bad vibes from him. He was surprised to feel oddly at ease with you as well, he felt like he could tell you anything despite having known each other for a very limited time. When you arrived at Mycroft’s house, you were taken back by the size of it, “My god, are you some kind of secret billionaire? Where do you work?” You giggled to yourself as you looked around the walls and ceilings, taking it all in. Mycroft had disappeared into the kitchen for a small while but could hear you talking as he came back with wine and two glasses, “I work for the British government.” 

You stopped in your awe, “Are you serious? That’s pretty cool.” Mycroft felt a sudden burst of pride at how easily you were impressed with him. He smirked to himself, “I suppose so, may I ask you a question?” You gladly took the glass of wine from his hand and took a drink, “Go ahead,” “What were your first impressions of me?” You walked closer to Mycroft, “Well, I thought you looked a little fancy and uptight and I still do, but you looked like a man who was lonely in my opinion. Very cute though.” You winked at him over the rim of your glass as you took another drink and Mycroft for once, didn’t have anything to say. 

You smiled at him, “Go on then, what did you think of me?” Mycroft cleared his throat and looked down at his own glass of wine, “I thought you looked beautiful, a little intimidated but someone who wasn’t afraid.” You blushed from his words and the two of you were lost in a moment between the two of you just looking into each other’s eyes. You hadn’t realised the two of you started to get closer until he was almost touching you. You cleared your throat, “So what was it you wanted to show me?” 

It was like the two of you were pulled out of a trance as Mycroft blinked and moved back one step to create some distance between the two of you. He walked down the corridor to lead you into his ‘theater room’ which looked like a small cinema in your opinion. You were in total awe of this man and his house, it was so big and fancy you were almost scared. Mycroft had you sit in a seat next to him when your eyes caught the projector, “I haven’t seen one of those in absolutely ages, my parents used to have one when I was a kid.” Mycroft smiled briefly at you as he set it up, your attention being directed in front of you when the light flashed on, illuminating the dark room. 

You had been excited to watch the movie and you had to stop yourself from laughing when you saw Mycroft mouthing the words along with the actors out of the corner of your eye. You were having such a good time, you almost didn’t want it to end. It was halfway through the movie that ,Mycroft put his hand up on the chair arm and didn’t realise your hand was already there until he felt it underneath his own. He was a little embarrassed about it and wasn’t sure what to do, should he keep it there? Should he take it away? Just as he was about to pull his hand away, he felt your fingers slowly wrap around his own, holding his hand. Mycroft felt his heart beat rising as he in turn held your hand and you smiled to yourself, only half focusing on the movie now. 

It was disappointing when the projector stopped as the movie was over, that meant you had to let go of Mycroft’s hand while he got up to turn off the device. You stood up and stretched, the chair had been comfy but it was awkward to sit in the same position for a long time. You smiled at Mycroft after you checked your phone to see the time, “It’s getting late, I suppose I should head home.” Mycroft was unable to hide his disappointment in your words, but it was going to happen sooner or later. He was surprised to see how close he felt with you after knowing you for so little time. 

Mycroft called his driver to take you home, wanting to ensure that you got home safely. “Are you sure? I can just get a cab, it’s not too much trouble.” “Please, I insist on it,” You had begrudgingly accepted his offer and the two of you waited at his front door until the car pulled up. You turned to face Mycroft, “I had a wonderful time you know.” Mycroft nodded, “As did I,” You opened your mouth to say something the same time as Mycroft and you lightly chuckled, “Oh sorry, you first,” “No, please, I’d hate to interrupt.” You bit your lip before you asked, “Would you perhaps like to do this again sometime?” Mycroft had been hoping that’s what you were going to say, “It would be my pleasure.” 

You blushed a little and looked at him for a moment before standing up on the tips of your toes to kiss him on the cheek, he was a lot taller than you. Quickly, you turned around and walked over to get into the car, not looking at him until you were inside so he couldn’t see you through the tinted windows. You relaxed against the leather seats, letting out a deep breath. Your head had just touched the back of the seat when your phone buzzed. Curious to see who was texting you, you pulled it out of your clutch and read the notification on the lock screen. It simply read, “Had a nice date? - SH” You shook your head but grinned at the message before turning your phone off again, putting it back in your bag. What a weird day. 

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x chubby reader #sherlock x plus size reader #Mycroft holmes #Mycroft x reader #Mycroft x chubby reader #Mycroft x plus size reader #chubby reader #x chubby reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader

[justjessame]

Takes One To Know One Chapter 1

Could a person die of boredom? Was it possible? I was pondering this worrisome conundrum, during a very worrisome time indeed, when I was told by one of the men I kept close by for security that we’d had a breach. FINALLY, I thought, something to end the monotony AND put a pin in my fear that I’d end up a fucking mindless insatiable corpse from the WORST end possible.

“Really?” My eyebrow arched in hope laced incredulity. After all, one reason for the boredom was the fact that my security was just that fucking amazing. “Someone managed to actually BREACH our boundaries?” I contemplated the very idea and where the possible breach happened, where our defenses could be weak.

John, tall, broad shouldered and smouldering John, nodded while looking like he’d love to be squirming under my scrutiny. I didn’t drop my focus, enjoying his discomfort, knowing that it bothered him that someone my size and gender could make him feel so inadequate and also knowing that he would just as easily have me pinned against the wall behind me if I asked him to. “We have him in the cafeteria,” the main area, big enough to keep secure and maintain control while allowing our group to watch the fun.

I’d lucked out when I took over the community college, fences and buildings were in good repair, a little tweaking here and there and we had a perfect place to ride out the ‘end of days’ as our resident doomsdayers kept muttering about. “He wouldn’t stop talking, so Max used some duct tape.” I grinned, Max was nothing if not resourceful.

I got up from the comfortable desk chair that I’d been seated in, the president’s office was mine, it seemed fitting given my role in our group. John stepped back and my smile held as his head dropped slightly in a natural sign of reverence. When he handed me my crowbar, the gauze and fabric taped grip toward me, I took it as gracefully as if he’d handed me an umbrella.

“Thank you, John.” I moved through the open doorway. “Maybe you and I can have a little time alone, later.” I bit my lip when I heard a small moan come from the large man following me, I wondered what Max would want for his ingenuity for use of duct tape in a time of need? Well, John first, then I’d think up something memorable for Max after I had a look see what my pets drug in.

The cafeteria was crowded. The tables pushed aside, since it was that awkward time between meals and the workday was nowhere near finished, but it wasn’t everyday that we had a breach. The crowd parted like the sea had for Moses when my boots met the tiles, knees hit the floor just as fast as I walked past, but my eyes were on Max and Greg, and the lean stranger they held between them.

His eyes were locked on me as I approached, and my smile grew as his dimples peeked at me from the duct tape that Max had been frugal with in keeping him quiet. He wasn’t struggling, in fact, if I didn’t know better I’d say he was exactly where he wanted to be. “Why, Max, it looks like you got me a present,” I stared up at the lanky stranger who stared right back without blinking. “Did you at least ask for a name before you pressed his mute button?” I was holding my weapon of choice loosely, swinging it gently by my hip, an idle gesture, still somewhat bored. His laugh lines were deepening around his eyes, amusement while surrounded wasn’t a normal response in these less than normal times so I was a touch intrigued.

“Megan?” Max and Greg shared a look and both shrugged. “It sounded like Megan or Regan.” I kept them around for usefulness and attractiveness, not necessarily for the depth of their intelligence or memory.

I snorted. “His name is either Megan, like a five year old girl, or Regan, a dead president?” He was shaking his head and rolling his eyes in commiseration with my feeling the need for better minions. I stepped closer and raised my free hand to an edge of the duct tape. “I apologize in advance, but-” with one rip I had the tape off and he didn’t make a sound for a moment, impressing me.

“SHIT!” Or, I thought, I gave credit too soon. “Fuckity fuck fuck.” He pulled an arm free from Max and rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Christ, are my fucking lips still fucking-” I waited for him to get himself under control. Clearly the pain had made him stupid. “Negan.” He bit the word out and I was still staring at him. “My name? You asked, they fucked it up, it’s Negan.”

“I guess that’s better than Megan, and definitely an improvement on Regan.” I nodded to Max and he pulled out the roll of tape. Negan’s eyes widened.

“Wait a minute,” he held the hand he’d pulled free up. “Why don’t we discuss-”

“You’re right, Negan.” He looked pleased and smug. “We should discuss how you breached our perimeter.” John brought me a chair and I sat, laying my clean and nicely balanced crowbar across my lap, my chair was close enough so I could look up at Negan. “Where did you come in?”

While I waited for him to choose what he was planning on telling me, I took in the man before me. Pants, worn but serviceable. Layered shirts, leather jacket, bloodstains, all fairly normal given the current climate. Short hair that was longer on top, scruffy face, also fairly common. Boots, also worn but in good shape given that they had to be several years old. Shrewd eyes, and I had bets on just how silver his tongue could be.

“You have a spot, behind the ag building, near the east edge of the grain garden,” I glanced at Greg and he nodded that he was making a note of it. “If your guards ran on a more regulated schedule, I had them pegged at fifteen minute rotations,” my lip querked. I wasn’t planning on helping him out with a corrected time table. “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Fuck there found me and here we are.”

I smiled even as John and Max stiffened at their new monikers. “You told me where you came in, but not how you knew our layout.” His expression changed only subtly. “Who sent you?”

“No one sent me,” his head tilted to match mine, and he smiled back. “I just saw your setup here and couldn’t help but want to join.”

“Leave us,” I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t have to. John told the crowd to get back to work, Max and Greg directed traffic and I kept my eyes on our uninvited guest. Soon it was just me, him, and my three current closest ‘advisors’. “Greg,” smaller than Max or John, was also the stronger of the three. “I think you have a weak spot to look into.” A curt nod and he was on his way. Max moved to stand closer to Negan but I stopped him with a look. “You and John should have a conversation with our current guards, see if anyone’s,” my eyes were still on Negan and he looked far too unconcerned for me to feel serene. “See who’s newest to the list. When they were added, where they came from.” Nothing, not even a twitch. “See if anyone on the guard list has a new friend, same questions.” They left and then it was two.

“You seem pretty confident that you’re safe alone with me,” he was still standing and I was still comfortably seated. “That either means that you are the ULTIMATE badass,” he wasn’t pacing, no, he’d found a place to lean and he looked as at ease as I was. “OR you’re the supreme head of EVERY goddamn thing here.”

“Maybe I’m both,” I crossed my ankles and waited to see what he planned on offering me. Every person who came in wanted to barter. Be it I’ll be this, if you grant me that or back my people in this, and we’ll happily hand you this much of our take in supplies. This world was nothing if not negotiable. “What are you?”

He snorted and stared down at me with something that smacked vaguely of condescension, which I truly hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to employ. “Me?” He bit his lip and his eyes roamed over my small form sitting in the chair that John had brought for me. “I’m YOU.”

I laughed, thinking that he must have gone completely insane during the time since the first corpse rose and started eating people. “You’re me?” I blinked at him, wondering if perhaps he was right and I was overly confident at being alone with him. If he was batshit crazy, even a crowbar to the head might not fucking work. “I think we’re a little too different for that to be plausible.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Not literally.” Well that was a relief, he wasn’t completely insane. “I WAS you. I had ALL this. Different time, different place. Different genitals.” I snorted. “Different weapon.” His eyes fell to my lap and my hand curled around the fabric and tape bound handle, tensing slightly. “It’s temporary, all of it, I fell, so will you.”

“That sounds like a threat.” I smiled up at him, thinking if nothing else he was amusing. “Are you thinking that you want another go at leader of a pack, Negan?” He shook his head, but his lips weren’t cooperating, the smirk was lurking, even as he fought it. “You can taste it, can’t you? The power. Having them kneel.” I could see it, he really had had it once, a tiny pinch in his eyes told me more than all the words that his mouth could ever spill. “How long were you the king of your mountain?”

“Fleetingly,” his voice had lost the strength he’d led with, and I went back to carefully studying him. “It wasn’t- Nothing is permanent. Not anymore.”

I wondered what broke him, because something clearly had, even if he still had bursts of something. Something almost magnetic. “And you want to join us?” The disbelief was palpable. “Why?”

His eyes, never far from meeting my own, laser focused on mine and he stopped fighting his lips urge to curl into a smile. “I’m a joiner, and this?” He threw his arms wide and gestured around us. “This is just too good to NOT want to join.”

I snorted again, feeling slightly as if I were turning into a pig. Squinting I leaned forward to stare up into his eyes. He stared back. “How is it your eyes aren’t dark brown?” He raised an eyebrow and I went on. “Since you are clearly so full of fucking shit that it has to be up to your fucking forehead.”

His grin grew, if possible and I was reminded of the Joker from Batman. “Why are you so cynical? I told you, I WAS you, I’m a font of fucking knowledge-” he stopped studying me as he seemed to be puzzling out something. “What the fuck is your name?”

I bit my lip and fought the laugh threatening to bubble out of me. Before I could answer, John was back. “Megan?” I turned to see what he needed and I heard our new recruit give a snort of his own.

“Like a five year old girl, wasn’t it?” I rolled my eyes as John came closer, but my hand twitched on my trusty crowbar when he added, “guess it makes sense since you LOOK like a fucking-”

“I’d be VERY fucking careful with how you finish that sentence, Negan.” I didn’t turn to look at him, I was still waiting for John to tell me whatever he needed to. My tone was clear, watch it, and I wasn’t surprised that he listened. “What is it, John?”

John updated me on the trio’s progress. The breach point was easily found and mended. They were ‘interviewing’ our current group of guards. Since I made it a point to rotate duties, not only guards, but throughout our community this wouldn’t take long, but if I wasn’t satisfied that Negan had just stumbled onto us by some fucking wild coincidence then we might have to widen our net. I listened and considered the next steps I wanted to take, while tossing the interloper into one of our ‘holding areas’ sounded fucking wonderful so I could take a nice relaxing pounding with John, or Max, or Greg, I knew that I’d have to deal with the stress of the mess first.

“Finish the interviews,” I advised, studying the wall across from me as I made up my mind. “Focus on the lonelier females, the ones that seem needier than most. And any of the men who like to play follower more than leader.” John was nodding when I finally looked back at him again. “If no one seems to know who Negan is, then go back to the last rotation. And then another rotation.” Another nod and I sighed. “I guess we won’t get our playtime for awhile, John.” I gave myself a moment to pout and heard a snicker come from the general direction of my newest thorn in my ass. “Back to work.”

“Do you want me to-” John gestured toward Negan’s relaxed and leaning form and I shook my head. “Megan, I can-”

“John, you can do a vast quantity of magical and horrible things, but ONLY if I give the say so.” He flinched at the reminder of our roles in this world. “Now, you have a job, so-” he nodded with a slightly bowed head and I fought a grin at the knowledge that he didn’t want to show any weakness to this new entity. I watched him as he left, wondering how many waves Negan would cause from his very existence.

“Wow,” I turned to see the new bane of my being studying me with the same interest I’d watched John. I waited as his laugh lines and dimples made his charm grow. “You really ARE me.”

“What?” Maybe I should call for John to come back and secure the man, if he kept insisting that we were so damn alike. “Now how are we twinsies?”

“Got yourself a trio of hubbies?” I stared at him in shock, marriage? In this fucking world? “OK, maybe not husbands, but you’re definitely letting them dip their pricks in the company pool.”

I laughed at that. He wasn’t wrong, but damn that euphemism was fucking hilarious and old fashioned. “How old are you, grandpa?” He glared at me. “Pricks and company pool?” I shook my head. “Currently Greg, Max, and John and my ‘advisors’ and they have the added perk of satisfying my EVERY need. So yeah, we fuck. It isn’t poetic, we aren’t married, and I sure as fuck don’t think of them like husbands.”

“What would you do if they decided to dip their dicks in one of those needier than normal females?” He looked so damn smug as though he just KNEW what my answer would be that I nearly tossed something at his head, something heavy and metal based.

“Nothing.” He raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “IF one of the CURRENT three saw someone they wanted to DIP into more than me, then they can do so, and leave their position as advisor behind.” His smile grew like he was proven correct. “What?”

“I’m sure that that ‘advisor’ position comes with more perks than your ear and your-” his eyes roamed my seated body and I nearly felt the fucking heat from it. “Other assets.”

I sat back again, studying him. “Negan, just how do you think things are run around here?”

#negan x ofc #like holding up a mirror #The Walking Dead #humor #alternate universe #eventual smut

[bisexualstokes-archive]

Innocence is Gone (1/?)

Chapter (1/?): Twilight Visions Rating: Teen+ (For: Language, Graphics Depictions of Violence) Pairings: Nick Stokes/Greg Sanders (also gen friendship with rest of the team) Summary: When Greg is abducted at a club by a group of vengeful youth who were part of the group that beat him up in Fannysmackin', it's a race against the clock to find Greg before the final blow is struck on him, and Nick admits some feelings he had tried to keep a secret, but some things can't stay underneath the surface. Nick/Greg, set in late season 7. Chapter Notes: oh boy...here we go, lads. My first whump fic in which Nick isn't the victim (but don't worry, he's not without his own suffering in this fic) (tw for a slur thrown at the end of ch. 1, by some ignorant youth.)

Read it on A03

Dusk was always Greg’s favorite time of day. While the bright, yellow sun against the clear blue sky brought a certain warmth and joy, there was a certain comfort, in the twilight hues that filled the sky as the stars began to appear on the multi-colored canvas. There was an awe-inspiring beauty, one that can only be found in this small time window, during a time of day in which he’s normally getting ready for work.

He’s grateful, for a night like tonight, in which he doesn’t have to go into work. A night all to himself, to do whatever he pleased, to fully experience this short window of time that he normally doesn’t get to look at.

“Something on your mind, G? You’re never this quiet.”

And what pleased him the most, was spending time with Nick Stokes.

“Nana Olaf called me this morning,” Greg said, staring at the vast desert landscape as they drove down the never-ending road. A crumpled paper was on his lap, the only direction they had on their excursion on this day.

“Oh yeah? How’s she doing?”

“Told me she had a terrible dream--well, not just a dream, a vision. Said it was about me.”

“Really? What’d she see?”

The corners of Greg’s mouth twisted up, he lowered his head. He knew Nick wouldn’t believe it--didn’t believe in that sort of stuff, or at least, he didn’t think so. But Nick seemed to have become a bit more open-minded since Greg’s met him, all those years ago. He knew it was stupid, to think telling Nick about something like this would be so...embarrassing, or maybe to think that Nick was just humoring him, instead of actually caring. He knew Nick cared about him, and the things he had to say, even when he was rambling about nothing in particular.

Greg let out a short, nervous chuckle.

“She didn’t say, actually...but she did tell me, not to go out tonight.”

Nick’s eyes widened, and then his eyebrows narrowed downwards, before a smile spread across his face.

“Maybe she foresaw us gettin’ lost on our way to this new club,” Nick snickered. “You sure you know where we’re going?”

Greg’s heart fell, just slightly. He had almost expected Nick to grow concerned, to take this bad omen for what it was, to suggest that they just go back to Nick’s house, or Greg’s apartment, and spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms.

Because he did know what Nana Olaf saw--or at least, a vague description of it. According to her, she couldn’t distinctly see Greg, but saw bloodied hands, a metal chair, blood drooling from his lips. He hoped it was just a nightmare, that perhaps she was seeing a crime scene that he would be investigating--it did happen before, after all. A week before Nick’s abduction, she had called him, to tell him that she saw Greg, surrounded by dirt, and glass, and white foam, frozen in fear.

“Yeah, ‘course I know where we’re going,” Greg muttered. He squinted down at the paper, wishing his friend had better handwriting. “You’re gonna be taking a left after we get past the city limits sign.”

“Where’d you hear about this place, again?”

“My friend, Trixie. She’s never steered me wrong before.”

“Trixie, huh? Isn’t that the same chick who told you to put bleach in your hair in your senior year of college?”

“Aw, shucks, you remembered!”

Nick shot him one of his looks that he gave Greg when he was semi-annoyed, but the smile still remained on his face.

“Besides, you saw those pictures, I was H-O-T hot with that blonde hair.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Nick murmured under his breath, fiddling with the zipper on his leather jacket. He moved the zipper up and down. An anxious tick. He knew Nick was still a little uneasy about going out, in public, with him.

“You should keep it halfway down. Looks hotter that way,” Greg suggested. He knew Nick wasn’t asking for fashion tips, he had to admit that his friend typically had a good sense of style--when it came to his clothing, at least.

Nick cleared his throat as he did what Greg suggested. Greg noticed that Nick wasn’t wearing a shirt under his jacket. He contemplated telling Nick to pull over, make some excuse to get them out of the car…

“Greg! Which way am I going?”

Greg snapped out of his mind, his voice squeaked as read the instructions to Nick. The sun had finally set, and they were left driving in near darkness. Although they were far from the neon playground in the middle of the desert, the stars in the cloudless sky shined bright enough to give them more light than the beams coming from Nick’s SUV.

“And then...the instructions end. Guess it means we should be seeing it soon.”

“I don’t know, man, it looks like there’s nothing but desert out here. We’re not even on the road anymore.”

“Wait--you see that? Up there?”

Among the vast landscape littered with bushes and boulders, Greg spotted a crowd of cars, all parked haphazardly together, surrounding a small, square building.

“That’s gotta be it.”

They parked off to the side, Greg ran his fingers through the curls of his hair, patted his shirt straight, popped up the collar on his jacket. The slight chill of the night air send a shiver down Greg’s spine as he took a deep breath. The thrill of the night was spreading through his veins. He bounced a little, with a big smile on his face, excited for whatever lay beyond the large steel door, guarded by a large man in a suit. Nick stood opposite him, staring at the door with a frown.

Greg ran a hand through Nick’s hair, in an effort to get his hair to stick up with a slightly messy style. He was grateful that Nick’s hair had grown back, his fingers lingered as he lifted the individual strands upward.  Nick didn’t quite realize it, but with that look, he had become one of the most attractive men Greg had ever seen, and was sure to be the envy of the club that night.

“What’s wrong?” Greg asked, fiddling with the zipper on his partner’s leather jacket. He immediately realized why Nick hesitated before he even finished the question. He knew this wasn’t just nerves over going out in public with another man, this was nerves over the fact that this building, on the outside, was way too small to hold all the occupants of the dozens of parked cars.

“Nothing, G. Let’s go,” Nick gulped. His throat was dry, he was biting his lower lip. He cleared his throat again and started towards the door.

“We don’t have to--”

“It’s fine--”

“Nick, I didn’t know--”

“It’s fine, Greg,” Nick growled, and stopped walking. He sighed and turned towards Greg, his expression was a half smile, but Greg didn’t buy it until his hands were sandwiched between Nick’s.

“As long as I’m with you...everything’s fine.”

He planted a small kiss on Greg’s cheek, Greg’s mouth spread into a smile. Nick gave him a satisfied smirk and guided them towards the door. The bouncer nodded at them as he opened the door for them, the soft buzz of music vibrated through their bodies.

The stairway was steep, narrow, only allowed for one occupant at a time. Greg’s hand was held out in front of him as Nick’s arm bent backwards to keep hold of Greg. He grimaced at the tightness of Nick’s grip on his hand, which hand caused Greg’s fingers to stretch out between Nick’s whitened knuckles.

The previously muffled music grew louder and clearer as they made their descent. Once they made it down the stairs and Nick let out a slow, deep exhale. Greg cupped his face in his hand, looked him in the eyes. He asked a nonverbal question, to which Nick nodded in an answer.

“C’mon, let’s get a drink,” Nick shouted over the loud music.

They waded through the crowd of people huddled in the large room, the bar was on the opposite side of the entrance. The room felt smaller than it was, due to the amount of people inhabiting it. Tables and chairs were strewn around the edges of the room, most of the chairs were empty, the tables littered with empty glasses and bottles. In a high-energy environment such as this, there wasn't time for sitting, only dancing. Flashes of white light came from flashing strobe lights in the ceiling, which were the bulls-eyes to black light spirals surrounding the bulbs. A thin layer of smoke hung in the air at waist length, it gave the room an almost dreamy look. Though it was difficult to distinguish facial features from one another in the dim light, a sea of smiles was rising, falling, twirling, colliding. It was the ultimate party.

Greg beamed as he felt a sense of comfort, among people who took this time to forget all their troubles, to expend that last bit of energy pent up inside of them from their long workdays. Night owls, living their life to the fullest.

They made it to the bar, Nick ordered a pair of drinks, he had nearly finished his by the time he handed Greg his own. A flutter of concern floated up Greg’s chest, but was quickly dispelled as he caught up to Nick. The flutter settled down, and Nick’s teeth became the brightest thing in the room.

“Wanna dance?” Nick shouted to him as he finished a second drink--When did he even order a second drink? Greg thought to himself.

“Thought you’d never ask!”

Nick led them towards the crowd, the loud bass from the tall, large speakers aligned with Greg’s heartbeat. They settled into a small gap, Greg bopped his head up and down until he felt his body begin to sway to the beat of the music. He watched Nick similarly warm himself up, settling into a groove that was both ridiculously goofy, and ridiculously hot. He moved his body closer to Nick’s, felt something lift up in his crotch area--he noticed a bulge in Nick’s, too. They grinded their clothed bodies against each other, Greg felt his fingers grab hold of the zipper on Nick’s jacket, thrusting it down to the floor with such speed and force that Nick clenched his jaw as he grabbed the back of Greg’s head, his fingers twisting the curls of Greg’s hair.

Nick leaned his head in, Greg could feel the warmth of Nick’s breath on his neck, his nostrils tingled from the smell of Nick’s alcohol tainted breath. He felt wet lips do their own dance all over his neck, his cheeks, his ears, his nose, until they finally found Greg’s lips. Both pairs of lips merged into one, the world fell beneath them, and Greg floated in the air...before crashing back down as Nick quickly pulled away.

The music had changed, intensified, into a louder and faster song. The strobe lights became more intense. Multiple flashes, in short succession, before it froze for half of a minute. Greg saw Nick’s eyes widen as he stared up at the blinding light, his tongue licked his quivering lips before they were plunged into darkness altogether.

The darkness lingered, for at least a minute, the music stopped. The crowd screamed, playing along with the pseudo horror before the music and lights resumed.

Greg pulled Nick close, wrapping his arms around the man--he was shaking.

“Are you o--” Greg whispered into Nick’s ear, but Nick pushed himself away.

“I’m gonna go get another drink!” He shouted at Greg, before becoming part of the crowd, who were completely unaware at the minor bout of drama between the two men.

Greg’s heart sank as Nick walked away, but a stunning brunette woman walked up to him, and Greg let himself fall into a trance, as he became acquainted with this new angel.

----------------------------------------------------------

The lights went off, the masks went on. Their contacts were already in, their eyes still glowed in the absence of light. Now the party could really begin.

They shook with laughter as the crowd screamed, some of the screams having started from the discovery of these masked maniacs--who, they had not realized, were there the whole time, lurking, waiting for a moment like this.

The lights came back on, and the crowd forgot its hysteria, and resumed their own laughter and cheers.

“Get a load of those fags!”

One of them gestured to two men, wrapped in an embrace. One of the men looked like he had just pissed his pants, the other was trying to console him. Were they that afraid of the dark? Of the big bad wolves, disguised as human beings? They hoped that the men were afraid, because if they weren’t, they would be--very, very soon.

“Hey...isn’t that the Sanders guy? The one that hit Demetrius?”

The group nodded to each other, snapped a picture, sent it to their leader, who was offsite at the time. They watched as the man Sanders was with broke apart from him, left him alone.

Easy prey.

Their phones buzzed, a message, from the ultimate Big Bad himself.

“Let’s fuck with him.”

#csi cbs #csi fan fiction #nick x greg #nick stokes #greg sanders #my fic #I'M SORRY GREG...i'm sorry #fic: innocence is gone

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Preview 2

Hahahahahah Jen be on a mcfuckin roll again kiddos I’m back in the saddle and ready to fucking go ahahah (now if only college didn’t get in my way...) But anyway, here’s some cute, fluffy, initial interactions between Rose and Greg, as well as Marty being a fucking scumbag. Enjoy!

“Thanks for coming everybody, I’m Mr. Universe,” he spoke through the microphone, still quite worn as the adrenaline of the show started to wear off. “If you like what you just heard, go check out our merch table! My manager Marty can hook you up with CDs and tee-shirts—oh wait,” the young musician cut himself off as he glanced over at the aforementioned table, only to find it unmanned. “He’s not there. I guess I’m going over there now…”

Greg did just that, hopping off the stage and running over to the table. He didn’t really expect his lone audience member to stop by, and yet she did. And as soon as the young musician glanced up and got a better look at her, he was absolutely awestruck by what he saw.

Simply put, she was gorgeous, perhaps the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. She was also quite large, her full, yet elegant figure standing at least twice as tall as he was, if not more. Her hair was an abundance of soft, flowing unexplainably pink curls and her attire was a long, graceful, sleeveless white gown that revealed, oddly enough, a bright pink gemstone resting upon her navel. But what caught his eye the most was her smile, bright, kind, and curious as she picked up one of the CDs he had for sale, a hint of amusement in her sweet, harmonious voice as she read its title.

“‘Space Train to the Cosmos’… How interesting…” she remarked, intrigued, before looking back to him with a smile that made him practically freeze in awe and amazement. When his initial shock finally did fade, he shook his head clear, playing it as cool as he could, given the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Greg nodded with a nonchalant shrug as he broke out into song. “One way ticket and I’m ready to ri-ide!”

The woman let out a genuinely charmed laugh at this, one that seemed to make Greg melt even more than he already had at the mere sight of her. “Aw, that’s adorable!” she quipped sweetly. “But how will you get back?”

“Back?” Greg frowned, confused.

“Back to Earth?”

The young musician smirked as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m never coming back.”

“Oh, that’s awful!” the woman gasped, as if appalled by this news. She smiled once again though, before looking back down to the CD in her hand. “This is your home… And I know I never want to leave it. There’s far too much to see and do here to ever want to go anywhere else…”

Another beat of somewhat awkward silence passes as Greg took this in, the woman’s gentle, almost nostalgic smile filling him with even more curiosity about her than before. Yet for as many questions as he had about this mysterious, beautiful being, he quickly remembered what he was there for in the first place as he glanced at the CD she was holding. “Uh… you want that? C-cause you can have it…”

“Hm?” It was the woman’s turn to be confused now as she looked back at him.

“Oh, a-and it comes with a free tee-shirt!” Greg added, holding a smaller shirt up. “You’ll probably need a bigger one though… I’ve got an extra-extra large in my van! Stay right there!”

“O-oh, you… you really don’t have to…” the woman shook her head, her smile turning somewhat strained as she put the CD back down on the table.

“Oh no, I insist!” Greg grinned as he got up and started walking backwards towards his van. “I mean, you came all the way out here to see the show. There’s no reason for you to walk away empty handed!”

“N-no, it’s… I… I really shouldn’t have… I-I…” the woman said, her smile finally dissipating into hesitance and discomfort. Discomfort that the young musician didn’t really notice in his innocent cheerfulness. “I… I should probably go…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Greg reassured warmly, calling over his shoulder at her before he began to open his van. “It’ll take me just a second to grab-” The young musician cut himself off as he realized the back of his van was occupied, namely by his manager and his apparent female companion who was leaning incredibly close to him. That is, until they were caught.

“Star child!” Marty exclaimed, hardly surprised as he hopped out of the van, his blonde-haired date accompanying him. “Perfect timing. I want you to meet Vidalia.”

“Nice van,” Vidalia greeted dully, her tone obviously unimpressed and deadpan as she popped her bubble gum. “Really living the high life.”

“I picked her up right before the show,” Marty whispered to Greg with a leering smirk. “Guess there are some actual babes in this boring old hick town after all, huh?”

“Uh…” Greg frowned, rather put off by what his manager had just implied. Marty, however, didn’t really give him much of a chance to respond as he continued, putting an arm over Vidalia’s shoulder as he did.

“So, how’d the show go? You finally sell out for a change? Or you know, sell anything at all?”

“Oh, the show was great!” Greg perked up. “One person showed up! And she—oh, that’s right!” The young musician gasped as he hurried to pull a large ‘Mr. Universe’ shirt out of his stash. “I have to give her this free tee… shirt…” His smile fell as he turned back to where the woman had been waiting, only to find that she had ended up slipping away after all, much to his newfound disappointment.

“Greg! You can’t give stuff away for free!” Marty scolded, breaking the young musician out of his thoughts on the mysterious woman. “What about my 75%?! 75% of nothing is nothing. Are you worth nothing?”

“N-no…” Greg hesitantly replied, glancing down.

“That’s right,” Marty nodded coldly. “Just you wait and see, star child. I’m gonna make us both rich.” He paused, leaning forward to whisper to the young musician so Vidalia, or nobody else for that matter, couldn’t hear. “And as far as these backwoods boneheads know, we already are. So let’s live it up before we hit the road again, alright?” The manager smirked as he began to lead his date off for a wild night. “Next stop, Portland!”

Greg didn’t reply right away as he instead glanced down at the shirt in his hands, a part of him knowing completely well that Marty’s heart wasn’t entirely in the right place. True, at first, the manager had encouraged him to keep things solely about the music; but as time went on and expense money ran dry, cash soon became his primary drive. As much as Greg wanted to try and steer Marty back in the right direction, he always backed down when it came right to it. After all, out of anyone he had ever known, Marty was the only person who supported his dreams of becoming a famous rock star, who actually helped him begin climbing his way towards that dream. The young musician knew he couldn’t possibly turn his back on his transparently greedy manager, especially since, regardless of his frustration with his lack of ticket or merchandise sales, he had never turned his back on him.

Yet at the same time, he soon found his thoughts drifting back to that intriguing, alluring woman, who had, in just the very brief encounter they had had, already managed to leave a tangible impression on him. Greg wasn’t entirely sure where his newfound curiosity about her came from, but all the same, he craved to know more about her. Certainly, she was special; her memorable presence and her poetic words were definitely indications of that. But exactly how she was special, the young musician found himself wanting to know. Perhaps it was foolish, seeing as how he didn’t even know her name, to want to chase after a woman he had only candidly talked to for a moment or two. But he was quick to remind himself that such a pursuit wouldn’t be completely without merit.

After all, he had never gotten the chance give her the free tee-shirt.

“Y’know…” Greg called after Marty, his gaze still fixated on the shirt to the point that he didn’t even notice his manager was already long gone. “I’ll catch up with you…”

#i got a few asks i gotta answer i know #ill grab em tomorrow imma go to bed for now #pick this baby up where i left off and give ya'll some original content for the third preview #wooooo #jen writes #universe falls #like a comet #uf preview

[danandphilsecretsanta]

Talk Me Down

To: @lessamazinggisonfire

A/N: Happy holidays!

Phil wasn’t gay.

He had definitely not made out with the captain of the basketball team, or got a handjob from his math tutor. Phil Lester was the straightest boy in the small seaside town he lived in, his father made sure of it.

He always told Phil the stare he stole at a boy was just a phase every teen went through, until they eventually found the proper heterosexual partner to settle down and raise a family with. And Phil believed what his father told him, because fathers did not lie to their children.

Then Dan Howell came sauntering into Phil’s life.

Suddenly, his father’s words faded from Phil’s memory when he saw Dan for the first time. His arms were linked with Louise Pentland’s, laughing and smiling at everyone he saw. Phil suddenly found himself staring the same way he stared at the countless other beautiful boys he saw. Dan shot Phil a sweet smile before turning the corner as Louise whispered to him.

Over the next few days, Dan had made it a habit to smile at Phil. Whether it was when they passed each other in the halls or from across the room in biology, Phil’s eyes met his and the whole world seemed to fade away.

They eventually started to smile at each other outside of school, texting nonstop about the stupidest things. When Phil’s father asked him why he was smiling, Phil would just shrug it off and avoid the question. His father didn’t need to know everything Phil did, this could be his own little secret.

We should hang out tonight. Phil nearly fell out of his chair. Sure, he and Dan talked during school and texted almost every night, but they had never been alone together.

Sure! Phil sent back, butterflies filling his stomach. He was overreacting, no one gets this anxious to just hang out with someone alone.

My place at seven? Parents are out on a date night. The butterflies became a swarm.

Sounds good. Just us?

Yeah.

Phil decided his father didn’t have to know that one insignificant detail, so when he asked where Phil was going tonight, Phil lied.

“I’m going to PJ’s with Felix.”

Phil had never lied to his father before.

“Alright, have fun.”

Phil’s father had never asked questions.

Dan’s house was a small cottage, tucked away near the sea, and in Phil’s opinion, was very aesthetically pleasing.

“Hi,” Dan beamed as he ushered Phil inside, hiding his hands in his sweater sleeves.

“Hi.” The two boys stood in silence as tension filled the air around them.

“Uh,” That’s when Dan kissed him. It was heated and rushed and Phil didn’t quite know what to do with his tongue but eventually Dan pushed away, flustered and stuttering.

“I-I’m sorry, I just-” Now it was Phil’s turn to kiss Dan. This time it was slower, and Phil could feel the heat radiating off of Dan. They kissed like this for a while, up in Dan’s room, and although there was a small part of Phil’s brain screaming at him to stop, he continued anyways. The two stopped when Dan’s phone buzzed, causing him to let out a groan.

“My parents are on their way home, uh, you should probably go now.” He said, still slightly out of breath. Phil nodded, grabbing his shirt from the floor.

“Thanks for uh, having me over tonight. It was fun,” Phil blushed.

“My parents are heading back to London in next weekend, wanna come over again?”

“Of course.” Phil left with a smile on his face and a hicky on the base of his neck.

He met up with Dan the next weekend, earning another hicky on his chest, and in between classes they’d steal kisses in the bathrooms. The two acted like giddy school girls whenever they snuck off. After about a month of sneaking around Dan had become Phil’s unofficial secret boyfriend.

“Do you have to go?” Dan groaned as Phil began picking up his clothes from Dan’s bedroom floor.

“Trust me, I want to stay as much as you want me to, but I have to get home before my dad does.” He pressed one last tender kiss to Dan’s lips.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do!”

And Phil really meant to, but when he walked into the kitchen he saw his father waiting for him.

“Where were you?” He asked cooly.

“Uh, PJ’s house,” Phil managed to stutter out. His father’s expression hardened and he slapped Phil across the face.

“Don’t lie to me boy, tell me where you really were.” Phil’s cheek stung and he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

“I w-was,” Another slap.

“I don’t have all day Philip!”

“W-with Dan Howell…”

“That fag boy from London?” Another slap.

“Y-yes.” Tears were starting to fall from Phil’s eyes as his father stared at his neck.

“Is he the one who gave you those hickeys?” Phil didn’t have time to respond before he was punched in the stomach. He toppled over and groaned, his father standing over him with disgust in his eyes.

“I didn’t raise my son to become a fag.” He started to kick Phil, who lay helplessly on the floor with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Phil didn’t go to school for four days, waiting for the bruises to become less noticeable. He texted Dan to never talk to him again, and blocked his number. When Phil went back to school, he avoided Dan like the plague.

Then Veronica Lewis came sauntering up to Phil one day.

They began talking and sharing smiles the same way Phil and Dan once had. Phil’s father approved of her immensely, his expression towards Phil becoming less harsh. It did pain Phil to see the way Dan looked at him when he passed in the halls, holding hands with Veronica. But Phil reminded himself that with Veronica everything was normal, and he liked normal. His father liked normal.

It was half past twelve in the morning when Phil’s phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Phil Lester, Greg Lester’s son?” The voice on the other end was almost too nice for comfort.

“It is…” The voice sighed.

“I’m so sorry but- Phil your father’s been in an accident,” Phil’s blood turned cold.

“Did he make it,”

“Phil…”

“Did he make it,”

“I’m so sorry Phil.” He hung up.

The funeral was that following Tuesday.

It was small, much smaller than Phil’s mother’s funeral, with only close family and Veronica at his side. He watched numbly as they lowered his father’s casket into the grave, as his Aunt cried into her husband’s shoulder.

He walked through the cemetery alone, although Veronica had insisted on coming with. Once he was far enough away from everyone, Phil started to cry. He cried for what felt like hours until he heard his name.

“Phil,” He looked up to see Dan standing in front of him, wearing a wrinkled dress shirt and slacks. “They told me I could, uh, find you here.”

“What are you doing here, Dan?”

“You’re my friend, and you’re grieving. I came here to support you.”

“I’m not grieving, and you’re not my friend.” Phil responded cooly. Although he was grieving his monster of a father, and he loved Dan as more than a friend.

“I just want to know why you won’t talk to me. Why you’ve started seeing Veronica when you made it very clear to me that you did not like girls.” Dan’s voice cracked.

“Because I love you, and it’s best for you to just stay away from me.” They stood in silence, staring at each other with tear filled eyes. Then Dan stepped forward and placed a tender kiss to Phil’s cheek, then his lips. Phil heard a small gasp, and opened his eyes to see Veronica standing behind Dan. Before he could even begin to speak, she ran away.

“Shit,” he muttered. Phil knew a good, straight, boyfriend would run after her and apologize, but suddenly he didn’t seem to care anymore. Dan at him, brown eyes meeting blue, and whispered, “Where are you going to live.”

“With my auntie in Liverpool.”

“Is there some way you can stay here-” Phil stopped, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Goodbye Dan.” He whispered, and left Dan standing alone.

It wasn’t until years later, when Phil was visiting London for work, did Dan Howell saunter back into his life, his smile still the same.

#dpss2k16 #lessamazinggisonfire #phandom