#jesse manes is his own warning

[afewproblems]

A Clear and Present Threat of Tongue

Sooooo this idea shook me like a rag doll and wouldn't let me go until I got it all out, this is a Steddie Stranger Things New Girl AU taking place during the first kiss episode between Jess and Nick. But its waaay longer and more angsty than I anticipated. So.

Enjoy!

It’s all Gareth's fault in hindsight. 

As his best friend and confidant, Gareth really should have taken Eddie’s feelings into account when he suggested a party out loud in front of everyone.

Not that the party was a particularly bad idea, parties had been prime money making opportunities in the years before - although that had certainly dwindled, what with the murder accusations and earthquakes. 

And Eddie was trying to make it a point of avoiding dealing around the kids or Hoppers disapproving glare.

So no, it wasn't so much the party.

Steve had taken it upon himself to host, as per usual, and everyone had been invited. The gremlins, Nancy and Jonathan, Argyle, Gareth, Jeff, and Robin of course without question. Gareth brought Megan Walsh with him while Robin brought another underclassman, Vickie something, she seemed cool - a little quiet for Eddie's taste but that wouldn’t be the only reason she didn’t do it for him.

Nah, Eddie was looking for something a little taller, louder, with big brown eyes and plush pink lips he wanted to sink his teeth into and an ass that wouldn’t quit even if he begged. 

And Eddie didn’t beg.

It was an end of summer pool party that had extended beyond the warm sunshine and moved into the main house when the last few rays had swapped for the cool twilight of the evening. 

There had been no shortage of food and drinks and a few tokes in the garage from the decent Cali strain Argyle had brought with him. The kids had gone to bed one by one leaving the rest of them to move down to the basement as Steve had put it, ‘to keep the noise to a minimum while the little shits sleep’.

The combination of weed and beer had them floating in the sweet-spot, not that everyone had partaken - Argyle and Jonathan stuck to weed only while the girls nursed their beers.

Eddie, Gareth and Jeff were the only three that were on the floor and feeling alright by the time midnight had rolled around. 

“We should play a game,” Gareth says, blurting out the words from his place on the floor, he’s grinning a little with glazed eyes and wild hair splayed around his head like a halo.

And this, this should have been Eddie’s first warning. 

Now Uncle Wayne had a great rule, a fantastic rule, ‘Nothing good ever happens after midnight kiddo, remember that’.

Eddie should have listened to the old man.

Jeff hums lightly from the floor and Megan perks up at the idea, shifting up to the edge of the couch, trying to catch Gareth's glazed eyes.

"What kind of game?" She says, her voice lilting and curious, Eddie smirks and elbows Gareth in the side.

Gareth huffs out a groan at the contact and rolls slightly to level a glare at the metal-head, Eddie raises his eyebrows and darts his eyes from Gareth to Megan before raising a single eyebrow. 

Go for it man! 

Gareth cocks his head, a confused expression pulling at his brow as his red eyes pan from Eddie to the other side of the room and back again. 

Nowhere near Megan.

Just as Eddie makes to turn to wherever Gareth is looking, a small grin blooms on his best friend's otherwise lax face, the bassist sits up with a groan and shakes out his own wild mane of curls.

"Truth or Dare?"

"Choice game brochacho," Argyle laughs from the loveseat he's laid out across, Jonathan nods with his eyes closed. Everyone seems pleased with the situation if the chorus of 'sure's', and  'sounds good,' is anything to go by. 

Even Steve - who Eddie can’t help but notice has also stuck to beer most of the night and seems slightly tipsy as he wanders over from the far side of the room and drops onto the floor beside him. 

Steve says a quiet, 'cool,' as he brings his one knee up to his chest to lean on.

He smells of spice and pine tonight and Eddie fights the urge to curl against him.

Nancy volunteers to go first and picks dare, surprising everyone except for Jonathan and Steve, who laugh as Robin stumbles her way through crafting the perfect task for Nancy to perform.

Vickie whispers into Robin’s ear which elicits a delicate blush that settles over Robin’s cheeks and ears as she settles back against the couch with a soft smile.

“We dare you to do a cartwheel!” Robin crows, laying out her palm towards Vickie who immediately gives her an unapologetic high-five, Eddie rolls his eyes and nudges Steve beside him. 

“I expected better than that coming from Buckley,” he says just slightly over a whisper level if the death glare Robin shoots at him is any indication, Steve snorts and takes another sip of his drink.

“She’s just warming up Munson, you better watch out or you’ll paint a target on your back,” Steve stage whispers back, winking as he turns his attention to Nancy who has cleared a pathway next to their little circle to attempt her cartwheel. 

Eddie swallows and tries to fight down the blush that threatens to creep over his face. 

Fuck. He is so unfairly pretty. 

Steve's hair is remarkably untidy this evening, and his ears are slightly pink from the alcohol, and his stupid perfect jawline makes Eddie want to bite something - preferably Steve. 

He’s wearing one of his little polo’s, a light yellow number that accentuates his bright brown eyes and the dotting of moles and freckles dappling his face. 

Oh yeah, Eddie’s a goner. 

Nancy manages to half somersault and land on all fours before jumping to her feet in an Olympic pose that draws a mix of laughter and applause from the group. Eddie watches as Steve puts down his drink and politely claps as he smiles indulgently at Nancy, Eddie frowns slightly as he tamps down a flicker of jealousy that builds in his chest. 

He misses Robin stand up and stride towards Nancy before leaning in to whisper in her ear with a predatory grin. Nancy’s eyes drift from Robin to Eddie and back again, she nods once and turns back to the group, her facial expression betraying nothing. 

“Oh dude, you’re in for it now,” Steve murmurs to Eddie as Nancy and Robin resume their seats in the circle.

“What?” Eddie says as Nancy clears her throat and smiles at him, it's cutthroat and shark-like and Eddie is suddenly reminded why he’s always found Nancy intimidating.

“Eddie, truth or dare?” Nancy says in a silky voice, Jonathan seems to freeze at the tone and attempts to catch his eye, shaking his head like a mad-man and slicing a finger across his throat again and again, while Steve laughs softly beside him.

“Uh, Pft, Dare Wheeler,” Eddie says with a scoff and a wide grin, he stands up and starts stretching his arms across his chest, before cracking his neck and shaking out his shoulders, “just need to loosen up first here,” he claps his hands together, “okay what sort of gymnastics you got for me miss Nancy?”

Jonathan smacks his face into his hand in the corner while Robin giggles to Vickie, Eddie catches a few muttered words, but nothing concrete. Judging from the red face and ‘O’ shaped mouth that Vickie sends his way, it's definitely not good. 

Nancy clears her throat and waves her hand to catch his attention again, “eyes this way Munson,” she says slyly, and Eddie is suddenly sweating. 

“Eddie Munson, I dare you to take the person sitting closest to you into the spare bedroom for seven minutes in heaven. 

No one says a word for a moment. 

Eddie wishes for the basement floor to open and swallow him whole. He stares at the plush fibers of the rug, wondering if it would be at all possible to smother himself by pushing his face into the carpet. 

He absolutely refuses to look at Steve. 

The only person sitting beside him. 

He should have listened to the old man. 

***

Eddie paces the small space again and again, its five steps from wall to wall and it does nothing to ease the tension in the room. He tries to figure out how to tamp down the seemingly permanent flush that has stained his face since the two of them were pushed into the room. 

The door has been unceremoniously slammed shut behind them and a chorus of eight voices chant, ‘Kiss, Kiss, Kiss!’ over and over outside their temporary prison.

Damn Gareth for suggesting this stupid game, damn Nancy and Robin for conspiring against him and damn himself for his ridiculous delusional fantasy. 

Steve Harrington would never want to kiss someone like him, even if he did swing that way.

This was stupid and awful, damn everything.

Steve scoffs from his position on the foot of the bed, startling Eddie slightly.

“What is the big deal,” Steve sounds much more sober, and a lot more tired now that it's just the two of them, “lets just suck it up and french a little?”

Eddie nearly feels himself short-circuit at the words. 

He resists the urge to smack his head into the door and slowly turns on his heel to face Steve. 

His expression is bored, if slightly irritated to be stuck in this situation, but his arms are draped loosely on the bed and his shoulders are relaxed.

Huh. Not nervous then, but there is something else…

Eddie sighs and scrubs a ringed hand across his face, "Okay fine, but don’t say suck it up and french a little--"

"Do not complain to me Munson," Steve grumbles, his voice suddenly tight, "this is your fault. Let’s just do this," he shakes his hands out, Eddie notes the slightest tremor that runs over his left hand but it disappears the longer Eddie's gaze remains on it.

Fuck.

"Okay, okay, no, Steve this is not a big deal," Eddie says, his tone is light but gentle as he crosses over to the bed, he holds out his hands for Steve to take. 

Steve's eyes travel from his hands to Eddie's face, and back again. His expression flickers once before shuttering into the same bored expression from earlier. Steve clasps his hands once and squeezes them briefly before letting go and standing up to face Eddie.

"Right…not a big deal, let's just do it," Steve mumbles as he breathes out, he closes his eyes briefly and Eddie's never been this close before, he can count the freckles on his nose, "just do it Eds".

Oh god, oh god, he’s about to kiss Steve Harrington, this is fine, it's fine. It’s just a stupid party game, he can do this, he can be cool.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and raises his hands to grasp Steve by the shoulders before smoothing them down his arms, he leaves them loosely wrapped around his biceps, and Okay who the Hell gave him the right?

Focus.

He licks his lips and swallows his nerves, he can do this, he can do this!

Steve frowns, “Why are you licking your lips?” his voice pitched with confusion.

He can’t do this. 

“Should I not?” Eddie manages to say without stuttering, he coats his voice with false bravado as he rolls his shoulders and widens his stance, “you want dry lips Harrington?”

Steve scowls, “No”.

“Then I’m just licking them to make them better!” 

A pinched expression blooms over Steve’s face at the sudden rise in volume in Eddie’s words, he resists the urge to wipe the clammy sweat from his hands and instead lifts them from Steve’s biceps to his shoulders before placing his hands on the sides of Steve's face. Eddie’s fingers curl up into his hair behind each ear and Eddie swears for a moment he can feel Steve tilt his head into his hands -just slightly. 

“Ready?” Eddie murmurs, the earlier bravado gone as his eyes dart back and forth between Steve’s own. He’s looking just slightly up at Eddie, the barest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Ready,” Steve affirms with a small nod that jostles Eddie's hands.

“Okay,” Eddie breathes out through his nose slowly, “1, 2 -- I’m actually not going to do a count,” he lets go of Steve’s face, it’s too much, it’s ridiculous and Eddie feels as though he’s about to fly apart at any moment.

Steve doesn’t move but his eyes trail after Eddie's hands as they fall from his face before coming back up to meet Eddie’s gaze, “Okay?”

Eddie swallows, it feels like glass going down, this is not how he saw his night going, “That's not my style, when I kiss, I don’t, I don’t count down…”

Steve snorts and smiles slightly, biting his lip as he says, “Okay”.

Eddie breathes in sharply as Steve releases his lip to speak, he shakes his head once and reaches out with slightly unsteady hands, to grip Steve’s face once more, “Ready?”

Steve nods again, “Yes,” he’s looking up at Eddie with those warm brown eyes and long lashes and Eddie feels like he's going to faint.

Just move, he thinks to himself, just kiss him and then he can leave, never darken the door of the Harrington house again. He can pretend this never happened and go back to pining from afar. 

Eddie steels himself and tilts his head as he leans in slowly, he sweeps his thumb across Steve’s cheekbone, he can do this, he can do this. He continues moving forward as Steve suddenly rears back with a gasp.

There’s a slight tremor in his voice, as Steve says, “I’m, I’m sorry, you can’t do that…”

Eddie jerks backwards, “What did I do?” he cries out, he flings his hands away from Steve’s face, holding them up in something akin to surrender. He wracks his brain, running through the last thirty seconds, trying to think of what could have freaked Steve out this badly.

“Your fa-” Steve starts before clamping his mouth shut with a sharp click. He’s curling in on himself now, one arm slides up from his side to grasp his other arm.

It’s Eddie’s turn to stare.

“Were you, were you going to say my face?” Eddie says quietly, stepping back from Steve entirely, his now empty fists clench and unclench at his sides. There’s a flicker of anger an hurt in his chest, what the fuck did that mean?

They stare at each other for a moment, Eddie waits for Steve to elaborate but all he gets is a silent grimace.

“Yeah,” Steve says weakly, after a beat, his eyes anywhere but Eddie’s own, “you just…you can’t do that with your face dude”.

"Don’t call me dude right now," Eddie growls, breathing in deeply through his nose, this whole situation has been fucked from the start and he can't take it anymore. He's done.

“Okay, yeah, okay,” Eddie mutters before crossing the space to the closed door and pounding the flat of his palm against it, “Let me out of here!”

Behind him, Steve sighs as he moves over to the wall of the spare bedroom and slides down it until he’s seated with his legs splayed out. 

But Eddie doesn't care, he doesn't. He had prepared himself for this, he knew Steve wouldn't possibly feel the same way and now it was definitive. 

That didn't stop it from stinging.

Eddie growls as he tries for the handle again and the brass does nothing but rattle rather than turn.

“Why does this door lock from the outside? That can’t be safe,” Eddie mutters to himself as he turns away from the door to face Steve once more, he leans back against it and breathes out a sigh as the chorus of, ‘Kiss, Kiss, Kiss’ renews itself with vigor just outside.

Steve sighs again and raises both hands to rub down his face before dropping them heavily to the floor on either side of him, he stares at the wall for a moment before his expression flattens again. 

He looks up at Eddie with determination in his eyes before bringing his legs up to stand. 

“Okay,” Steve says softly, as he steps towards where Eddie is leaning against the door, “let’s just do this already, just kiss me--”

“No.” Eddie firmly huffs, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and nearly knocks his head against the door as he realizes there is nowhere else to go, “I don’t--I’m not gonna kiss you”.

Steve pauses in his approach, he seems so much smaller than normal, and Eddie hates every moment of this.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” Steve says quietly, he reaches up to pinch the tip of his nose and clears his throat, “you said it yourself, it’s not a big deal. If you don't want to do this that's, it's fine, you know how stubborn they are, I don't think they meant to lock the door--”

“I can’t--” Eddie cuts across him but Steve is still talking.

“I’m sorry that you got stuck with me,” Steve bites out, running a hand through his hair as he steps backwards now, away from Eddie, and sits on the end of the bed, “and I’m sorry that I got all weird just now, but--”

Eddie just can’t take it any longer.

“No Steve,” he says shrilly, not caring if the assholes outside the door are listening, not caring if the Loch Nora neighbors can hear him, not caring if the kids upstairs wake up, “It's, I just can’t, not like this!”

It takes a second for the words to register, they seem to float between them for a moment before each man registers what’s been said.

Steve stills on the bed, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing, “What,” Steve says softly, “what, what does that mean?” 

Oh Fuck.

“Nothing,” Eddie blurts out, his heart is racing, the air is stale and thin in the basement bedroom and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe, “I didn’t mean it like, I just, we can’t like that because it's not, you know?”

Steve stares at him from the bed, “...what?”

Eddie has to leave, he can’t be in this room anymore, pinned to the door by a pair of soft brown eyes that have pinched in the middle into a confused and terrible frown.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Eddie says quietly, briskly walking past Steve and the bed as he moves towards the far wall with the single window.

“Where are you going? Eddie!” 

For the second time that night Eddie finds himself wishing he had listened to his old man. 

Attempting to climb out the window of the basement spare bedroom may not have been his best plan; as he hoisted himself up to the ledge, which was already up a good five feet at least, and popped the screen off, deaf to whatever words Steve was hissing at him, Eddie found himself sitting halfway in a window-well. 

About two feet from the open ground above.

And that was before his studded belt caught on the window ledge. 

“Fucking hell,” Eddie grits out as he shifts backwards only for the belt to wrench him back into place, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

He hears a sigh behind him along with a low string of curses as quiet footsteps move away towards the far side of the room. Seven knocks sound on what he can only assume is the door in a strange pattern that halts the chant from the basement sitting room. A muffled voice he can’t quite make out says something that Steve responds to.

“Open up the goddamn door Buckley or I’ll never cover another morning shift again, we have a situation in here,” he says in a small, defeated voice. 

It all happens fairly quickly after that. 

Between Jeff, Nancy, and Argyle’s careful maneuvering they manage to extricate him from the window and lower him back to the floor. Nothing had prepared Eddie for the hot, tight feeling that would fill his chest as Argyle and Jeff snicker and high-five once he is back on solid ground. Nancy is smiling but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes as she looks from Steve and back to Eddie, expression slowly morphing into one of concern.

Robin is standing with Steve, both of them lean against the far back wall by the now open door. They seem to be having an intense whisper fight that ends with Steve storming out back into the main sitting room. 

Argyle knocks into him, suddenly draping an arm over Eddie’s shoulders and snatching his attention away from Robin and Steve. He herds Eddie forward on slightly unsteady legs to follow the rest of his rescue party as they all make their way out of the spare bedroom.

“That was freakin’ hilarious dude,” Argyle says with a warm laugh and bright, slightly hazy eyes,  “I mean Steve, Steve, he tried to climb out the window instead of kissing you, can you believe that?”

Steve stiffens from his new position on the loveseat but shakes his head after a beat and laughs; the sound rings hollow, a pale imitation to his usual beautiful laugh, “Eh, Robin just gets to add another tally to the ‘You Suck’ board, that’s all man”.

Argyle laughs and claps Eddie’s shoulder lightly one last time before moving towards Jonathan and Jeff, the trio grab a lighter from the coffee table and head back upstairs for another toke.

Robin and Nancy go back to join Vickie on the couch, their heads bent together in conversation, both girls looking up at Steve from time to time. 

Steve, meanwhile, is steadfastly staring at the floor.

I’m an idiot, Eddie thinks miserably to himself as he takes a seat on the floor next to Gareth who doesn't seem to have moved since his suggestion of Truth or Dare. 

"Hey man," Gareth says, turning his head slightly to see him better, "how'd it go?" 

Eddie says nothing, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers; he wants to tell Gareth about how much of a disaster the night was, how he's ruined everything way more than he could ever dreamed of and he still didn't get a kiss out of it.

"That well huh?" Gareth hums as he sits up and brings his legs in to sit cross-legged. 

The party has wound down significantly at this point, Steve has disappeared from the basement and Nancy has loudly announced she is leaving if anyone needs a ride home. Robin and Vickie trail after her with Megan not far on their heels, she sends an irritated glare their way, most likely directed at Gareth more-so than himself.

"Weird," Gareth mumbles, dragging his arm across his eyes clumsily, "I figured that would'a worked, with all the puppy-dog eyes he's been givin' you lately".

"What, uh, what?" Eddie says sharply, he must have heard him wrong or the weed has finally gotten to them, Gareth did not--

"Oh man, yeah I figured the Truth or Dare would totally give you an opening dude, you seemed on board?" 

Eddie's heart is racing now, his palms sweaty, what the fuck is he talking about?

"I mean you should've seen Harrington's face when you went in, all sunny an' shit, it's that Doe face you're always talking about--" 

"Gareth!" Eddie hisses, his face burning and shoulders tight, he stands up startling the other man as he paces the now empty sitting room.

He takes a deep breath and then another, bringing his hands up to press into his eyes roughly. 

"Okay, okay, so you're telling me," he says slowly, dropping his hands to his sides, "that you think Steve, Steve Harrington," he points a shaky finger to the ceiling, "is in to me?"

Gareth blinks, his eyebrows slowly climb into his wild curly hair, "Uh yeah dude".

He says it like it's the simplest thing in the universe. One plus one is two, the sky is blue, and Steve Harrington has feelings for one Eddie Munson. 

And suddenly, the words from earlier, the brittle broken sentence Steve uttered in their temporary prison, makes much more sense.

"I’m sorry that you got stuck with me". 

Steve thought Eddie had been stuck with him? 

Steve thought Eddie had been stuck with him?

The soft looks, small touches, and blinding grins, each tiny moment over the last few months tumble and fall together.

Oh God…

"...I am an idiot," Eddie whispers as he turns on his heel and makes his way to the stairs.

"Yeah! Get him dude!" Gareth calls after him as he flips back into the plush carpet with a laugh. 

Eddie wanders the dark main floor, tiptoeing through the living room, avoiding a sea of sleeping bags and pillowed heads of the kids as he goes, there is a faint light ahead of him coming from the staircase to the second floor. 

He makes his way up, careful to avoid the fifth stair as, 'it always creaks,' and the last thing he needed was Dustin, or Max, or, Ozzy forbid, Mike, interrupting.

Eddie maneuvers down the familiar hallway, and halts when he gets to Steve's room. The door is slightly ajar and, at last he’s found the source of the soft yellow light spilling down the hall and stairwell.

Eddie tips the door open, wincing at the piercing creek of the hinges as it slowly swings open revealing Steve sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He doesn’t look up as Eddie steps into the room. 

“Hey Stevie,” Eddie says softly. 

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, suddenly unsure how to proceed, and awkwardly stands in the doorway, the wall to wall plaid threatens to burn his retinas but he holds firm. 

There are a few things in here Steve has clearly placed himself, the plush area rug covering up most of the chic parquet flooring running through the rest of the house. A new yellow duvet that clashes with the red plaid wallpaper, but it's Steve's choice for once. The picture of the car has been replaced by a small cork board, it's covered from top to bottom in Polaroids of Steve and the kids, candids of Robin and Eddie, posed silly pictures of Jonathan and Argyle after a smoke session, and a few of Nancy and Jonathan sitting in the Byers kitchen at Thanksgiving, almost collage like but for the pins holding them in place.

The room has transformed over the last few months, and it never ceases to make Eddie smile.

“Hey Eds,” Steve sighs after a long beat.

He looks up to meet Eddie’s gaze, that same blank expression from earlier tonight painted on his otherwise handsome face. 

Eddie swallows, his heart rate ticking up once again as soft brown eyes hold him in place, if he chickens out again he swears he'll fling himself down the stairs, creaky step be damned.

He opens his mouth only for Steve to speak, slowly, quietly.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs, his voice cracking around the words, "if that was weird today, for you".

Eddie manages to keep his face impassive as he nods, but his heart aches at what he hears, “Yeah, I mean, no it wasn't weird, just…”

Steve sits with his shoulders squared and his spine straight, stiff and still even in his own bedroom, but with each word that leaves Eddie’s mouth the line of his body slowly begins to curl in on itself.

“Just, different”. 

Steve nods as his arms come up to wrap around himself again, he swipes his right hand up his bare arm up to the sleeve and down again and Eddie wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his own arms. 

Steve eventually puts his hands on his knees with a muffled clap and stands up, padding across the carpet towards the door, towards Eddie. 

"Well that's not the worst thing someone's called me so I'll take it," Steve says with a smirk, his big brown eyes pan between Eddie's own as though searching for something, he nods to himself.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie ventures, leaning against the open door frame, linking his ankles together as his weight shifts to one foot. 

He can’t have this, someone as kind and funny and good as Steve saying these things, thinking that Eddie thinks them too. 

Enough is enough.

Steve snorts, tipping his face down. A lock of hair falls into his eyes and once again, Eddie's fraying resolve finally snaps.

He pushes himself off the door frame with his shoulder, stepping into Steve’s space, and reaches out with one hand to card his fingers into Steve’s hair, pushing it out of his face.  

Steve freezes at the sudden touch and proximity, "What, Ed-"

The words are lost as Eddie leans his head down and captures Steve's open lips for a kiss. 

He feels Steve stiffen slightly in his arms. 

Shit.

Eddie moves to pull away, cursing his own stupidity, but as he tries to pull away, Steve curls his arms around Eddie's neck and tilts his head, stepping closer into his arms.

And it's fireworks. It’s hearing Dio for the first time all over again, it’s finding out he was going to be staying with Wayne permanently. It’s jamming out with Gareth and Jeff and losing themselves in the music.

It's Steve.

Eddie brings his hands up to curl over Steve’s cheek and into his hair once more, he brings his fingers into tangle with the soft waves and gives them an experimental tug, startling a small moan out of Steve.

Eddie smiles into the kiss and takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, letting his tongue slide over Steves, he tastes slightly like beer but Eddie doesn’t care because he’s finally kissing, and kissing, and kissing him. 

Eddie breaks away after what feels like an eternity, leaning away just far enough to place a small kiss on Steve’s nose and both cheeks, which have slowly turned a pretty pink, the arms wrapped around his neck tighten slightly at the contact and Steve’s eyes flutter closed. 

“I meant something like that,” Eddie whispers before leaning in again, swallowing a laugh that escapes Steve with another soft kiss to his smiling lips.

"I thought," Steve mumbles, chewing his bottom lip with harsh teeth, "I thought I messed it all up downstairs," the words are wet as Steve sniffs once and tips his head onto Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie slips his hands down from Steve's face to bring him in closer, wrapping his arms around his waist, "you didn't mess anything up, I've been wanting to do that for a long time,” he whispers in Steve’s ear, earning a hitching laugh. 

“Me too Eds,” Steve mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, he pulls back slowly and tips his head up to meet Eddie’s gaze, “I think, I’ve been wanting to do that since you woke up in the hospital”.

“Sorry I took so long sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against his lips, a smile tugging at the corners of his own.

Steve hums and closes his eyes before running his nose back and forth against the tip of Eddie’s own, “Well,” he says softly, “I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me”.

Eddie laughs brightly and kicks the bedroom door shut with a snap.

Maybe his Uncle Wayne wasn’t always right.

[thesightstoshowyou]

begging you to elaborate on the "Asa tells Marena that Jesse is into dead body stuff" idea from earlier

~@slashhinginghasher

Hehehehehe hoohoohahahaha 😈 For anyone that missed it, here’s what this ask is referencing.

~~

Into the Cricketverse - Welcome to my Death Talk

Part 1*, Part 2, Part 2.5, Part 2.75, Interlude*, Part 3*

(Asterisks denote the parts written by the fabulous @slashhinginghasher )

Warnings: Graphic discussions of necrophilia and torture, Marena and Cricket recieve a million hits of psychological damage

Needle pierces fabric and the pull of thread fills the relative silence of the penthouse living room. Late afternoon sun spills in through the windows and warms Cricket as she sits on the sofa, legs curled up under her. She still can’t decide if she should add a little cactus flower next to the embroidered scarab beetle or not.

At the kitchen counter, Marena fiddles with something, but only the woman’s wild mane of hair is visible from where Cricket rests. Asa and Jesse sit side by side at the table, reviewing some undoubtedly heinous footage on Jesse’s laptop.

Chromeskull’s shoulders shake, a quiet wheeze leaving him as points to something on screen. Asa scoffs, “Was that necessary?” His tone might sound petulant to the uninitiated, but Cricket can hear the sly smirk in his voice.

In the interest of preserving her mental state, she doesn’t look up to see what Jesse signs in response. When she finishes this next stitch, she will nonchalantly ask to be excused. However, what Asa says next has her slowly raising her gaze to the two men seated at the table.

“That reminds me of Jacksonville. Remember the one with that ridiculous tattoo? What was it you put down her throat…?”

‘A fucking fluorescent lightbulb,’ Jesse signs with a silent chortle and a shake of his head.

“Broke halfway in, if I recall.”

‘Bitch wouldn’t stop flailing. It was her own damn fault.’

A quick glance toward the kitchen shows Cricket that Marena has frozen in her seat as she listens and watches out of the corner of her eye. In her own chest, her heart hammers. Time to leave, she must get away before hears any more—

“The way you had her bent back over the edge of the casket wasn’t doing her any favors,” Asa chides as though he’s teasing Jesse about a faux pas and not the brutal torture of some poor, nameless woman. “Though I believe it was the rutting that did her in.”

As though forced by an unseen hand, Marena stiffly twists around to turn her icy gaze on the conversation. Cricket wishes she could shout at her to flee, that nothing good will come from hearing what will be said next. Instead, she tightens her grip on the embroidery frame until it creaks.

‘Hey, dead pussy’s still pussy. And you’re one to talk. I’m pretty sure I remember you mentioning some similar proclivities before your little Cricket showed up.’

Asa chuckles and shakes his head. “Perhaps, but when it comes down to quantity of occurrences, there is only one clear winner, Cromeans.”

“Shut. Up.” Guffaws cease and the two men turn to look at Marena. With how she’s shifted, Cricket can now see she’s holding a knife in her white-knuckled grip. Her words are as sharp as its blade, but in her eyes is the unspoken plea: ‘Please tell me you are joking.’

If only.

Cricket clenches her jaw and looks down at her trembling hands. She lets her gaze go out of focus. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it….

“I thought you would know better by now than to speak to me that way,” comes Asa’s frigid reply. All levity has left his voice. Cricket snaps her eyes closed.

There’s silence—Jesse signing maybe—and Cricket peeks up to see Marena shaking her head like she’s trying to rid herself of the visual he undoubtedly just painted in her brain.

Cricket wishes she was telepathic. She would scream into Marena’s head and tell her she would understand if the other woman went ballistic on the both of them, no matter what consequences it incurred. She tries to convey the sentiment with her eyes, but Marena’s are firmly locked on Jesse’s grinning face.

“Come here, Cricket.” Asa says it lightly, but the intention behind his words drops her heart into her stomach. The sewing supplies clatter when she hastily places them on the coffee table. Bare feet pad quietly across marble as she comes to stand before the Collector, hands wringing, eyes on the floor.

Asa wraps his arms around her waist and eases Cricket into his lap. He positions her back to his chest so she’s facing Marena. One warm hand comes up to rest on her throat, rough fingers tracing each of her scares reverently. She tries to ignore the way her skin crawls due to the newly revealed depravity

“Look at her,” he commands, lips brushing the shell of her ear. Mismatched eyes find cold blue. Marena’s face is expressionless, but it’s forced, like she’s put every fiber of her being into remaining impassive. Asa’s next words are hushed, meant only for Cricket, “Do you think that, because you are my favorite, your corpse will not suffer a similar fate?”

Her throat dries and nausea churns in her gut. Laboriously, lips part to release a tremulous exhale as she gives a single shake of her head. Marena watches blankly, but Cricket can see the tense set of her shoulders.

And if Cricket sees it, Asa can see it too.

Then, Marena turns and stalks away. Her pace is not hurried, but neither is it slow. She is measured, deliberate in her movement, her control barely maintained. The master bedroom door closes with a soft click.

The Collector hums thoughtfully. The hand lifts from Cricket’s throat and she flinches, prepared for the hurt, but Asa only murmurs, “You may start dinner.”

She scrambles from his lap and utters a shaky, “Yes, Sir,” in acknowledgement. As she retreats to the sanctity of the kitchen, she doesn’t listen to what Asa says to Jesse.

[forthbeaming]

so i know absolutely nothing about roswell but im so unwell about malex (blame michael's curls) and due to my new hyperfixation, i present you malex historical werewolf au that nobody askes for and i'll never write. buckle up bc this will make zero sense!

after being in the king's guards (or some other fency position for knights) for many years, alex is returning to his village as a hero and as the long awaited saviour that will free the villagers of the werewolf that is lurking in the woods around the village for years. alex is the youngest son of the village's mayor who expects him to kill the beast. (as always, jesse is his own trigger warning and is not a pleasant human being). for the first time in ten years, alex sees michael, a boy he was in love with but after jesse found out, he made alex leave the village to join the guards.

during the first moon that alex is back, jesse organises a huge searching party - every man in the village coming to the woods with a torch and a makeshift gun, determinated to kill the werewolf with jesse and alex leading them. alex wants nothing to do with it but there was no way he could say no to his father. they came across the beast and they manage to injure it. the beast escapes but knowing how to track, alex finds it again and hits hard enough to knock out. not wanting the beast to die, he sends the searching party the other way. curious to know who the werewolf is, he handcuffs the werewolf and waits for the sun to rise.

with the first sunrays, the beats changes into injured michael. alex doesn't know what to do with that information but he is determinated to keep michael safe from his father and from the other villagers no matter the cost.

(something something they somehow manage to escape and live happily ever after with papa manes five feet under the ground)

[pastelwitchling]

Ok but can we get Clay Manes

Just imagine the unimpressed big brother stare

It would be so unnerving for poor

Michael and it'd be amazing

@brittz-2123

***

              Michael kissed down the length of Alex’s spine, smiling against his naked skin as Alex groaned and shifted deeper into the bed.

              “Stop,” he whined sleepily under his breath, and Michael pushed his legs apart as he nuzzled his ass cheeks.

              “No,” he smiled, licking a long strip along one cheek and taking a bite, making Alex gasp and buck his hips.

              “Mmh,” he moaned, “stop teasing, Guerin. Get in me, I can’t take it anymore.”

              Michael’s cock jumped at Alex’s plea, but he took his time kissing his way back up Alex’s gorgeous body, biting into his shoulder blade as he hovered above him, reaching down with one hand to align his cock to Alex’s hole.

              “Guerin,” Alex pleaded, breathless, and Michael groaned into the back of his head.

              “I’ll give you whatever you want, baby,” he promised, more than ready to push in. “You never have to ask.”

              Knock knock knock.

              “Huh?” Alex’s eyes fluttered open. “Was that the door?”

              “No,” Michael panted. He could pretend he wasn’t dying to pound into Alex only for so long, and he was ready to feel him around his cock. “Nobody. Ignore it.”

              “O-Okay,” Alex stammered, hazed as Michael palmed his cheeks, spreading them apart. He bit his lower lip and moaned, and Michael bit the shell of his ear—

              Knock knock knock!

              “Guerin,” Alex panted, starting to sit up. “It could be important.”

              Michael growled, somewhere between a groan and a scream. “Important or not, I’m going to kill whoever’s standing on the other side of that door. You stay there!” he warned. He might’ve been willing to pull his own sweats on, but Alex was going to stay deliciously naked in bed. “I want to know that”—he gestured to Alex’s sweaty, muscled body—“is waiting for me when I get back.”

              Alex hit head on the headboard as he looked Michael up and down. He spread his legs a little, the blanket falling down just to cover the bulge between his legs. “Hurry back,” he urged.

              Michael exhaled shakily. “I’ll make you sorry for this, Private.”

              Alex’s smile widened, his cheeks flushed, and Michael hurried out. The sooner he dealt with whoever was outside, the sooner he got to come back and touch his husband. He was already strategizing on how to keep Alex in bed for the entire weekend when he opened the door and . . .

              Michael froze, his first instinct to grab something sharp to stab the stranger. And he might’ve if the shock wasn’t keeping him rooted to the spot.

              “Jesse Manes?” he said, his words holding an automatic growl that he couldn’t keep out at the sight of the man that looked so much like the one Michael loathed with every fiber of his being. But this couldn’t be Jesse Manes, since Jesse Manes was currently dead, shot by his own son in self-defense.

              Not-Jesse sighed, clearly used to this reaction, and stepped past Michael into the house. “No, but I get that a lot. You the husband, I’m assuming?”

              Michael followed, already a demand that the stranger get out, when his brain caught up with his eyes and ears, and he stopped in the doorway to the living room. “Wait, you’re Clay? Like . . . Alex’s elder brother, Clay?”

              Clay raised a dark eyebrow, his piercing blue eyes narrowed at Michael, clearly unimpressed. Michael swallowed and resisted the urge to hug his arms and cover his naked chest.

              “Is Alex in?” he tilted his head at Michael’s rumpled state. “I take that as a yes?”

              “Yes,” he said, cleared his throat, and very nearly resisted the instinctive sir that almost followed his words. Something about Clay Manes unnerved him. It was easy to hate Jesse, every inch of him demeaning and insulting in everything from his gaze to his words. But Clay searched the area as if making sure no enemy was lurking behind the couches. Right away, Michael knew his prime concern wasn’t to judge Alex, it was to make sure he was safe here.

              Michael, it seemed, was not spared from inspection.

              Distantly, he remembered when Alex and Gregory had told him in all seriousness that Clay would point-blank interrogate him. He was really starting to regret his lack of proper clothing.

              “Yeah,” he repeated, already giving Clay a wide berth as he tried not to run to the bedroom. “I-I’ll just go get him.”

              Clay’s gaze wouldn’t waver. “You do that.”

              Alex started to smile at the sight of Michael, but his face fell as soon as he caught his expression. He sat up, all calculation and strategy at once. “What’s wrong?”

              “Um,” Michael tried to find his words, “y-your brother’s here.”

              Alex’s brows pinched, confused. “Okay?”

              He cleared his throat. “Your brother, Clay, is here.”

              Michael didn’t realize how much he’d been hoping that Alex would relax and laugh off Michael’s concern until tension filled his husband’s shoulders and worry coated his expression.

              “Bad, huh?” Michael tried to joke, but Alex only ran a hand through his hair, glanced at Michael and away, and pushed himself out of bed.

              “No,” he finally said as he pulled a sweater over his head. “No, not bad. Not at all. Just as long as you stay behind me.”

              Before Michael could discern if he was joking now or not (though he had the horrible feeling Alex had never been more serious), Alex was walking out past him on his crutch to the living room where Clay was still standing, shoulders straight, ever the soldier.

              “Alex,” he said, a note of undeniable relief in his voice, as though part of him had expected Alex to be sick or dying. Michael watched as Clay pulled Alex into a hug, and for all of his stern gazes and curt words, he held onto his little brother as tightly as Max would to Michael, one hand in his hair, the other patting his back twice before he let go.

              “It’s good to see you,” Alex said as strictly as though he was giving a report.

              “Good to see you, too,” Clay said approvingly, squeezing Alex’s shoulder. Then— “Leg?”

              “Good.”

              “Heartrate?”

              “Steady.”

              “Blood pressure?”

              “Normal.”

              “Have you had your pills today?”

              “Yes, sir.”

              Michael was a little in awe, and a little terrified. He didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that the sir wouldn’t have been unwarranted after all.

              “Cardio time?”

              “Two hours.”

              “I bet,” Clay said without a hint of teasing as he glanced at Michael, and again Michael wished he’d had enough common sense to grab a shirt. Something softened in his gaze as he looked back to Alex, ruffled his hair, and want around to Michael.

              Alex, panicked, started to protest. “Clay, w-wait—”

              Clay held up a hand and Alex fell silent at once. Michael tried to reassure him with his eyes that he was fine, but before he could, Clay demanded—

              “Michael Guerin, is it?”

              “Uh, yes. Sir.”

              “Siblings?”

              “Two.”

              “Names?”

              “Max and Isobel Evans.”

              Clay hummed. “I’ll have to look into them. You understand, I’m sure.”

              “Uh—”

              “Parents?”

              “Clay!”

              “Dead.”

              Clay’s scowl gentled. “I’m sorry.”

              Michael could only nod. Was that it? Was he starting to wear Clay down?

              “Are you careful with him?”

              “What?” he blinked.

              “Are you careful with him?” he repeated, like Michael was particularly dim. Another sweep of his eyes over Michael’s naked torso explained the question. Michael’s entire body blushed.

              “Uhhh—”

              “You do realize he has leg pain, don’t you?”

              “I—”

              “He might not be able to always handle rough play.”

              “Clay!”

              “Not now, little brother,” Clay said easily, his eyes unmoving from Michael’s face. “I’m conducting some business.”

              Alex covered his face with his hands. “Oh my—”

              “Yeah,” Michael forced the words out. “I—I mean, I’d never hurt him or-or-or do anything he didn’t want.”

              Clay stared him down a good two minutes, and just when Michael thought the heat in his face would make his head explode, he said, “Good answer.”

              Finally, he turned to Alex and, as though he was relaying top secret government information, said, “Greg told me to tell you the barbecue’s at four.”

              Alex pressed his lips together and nodded. “Got it.”

              After a pause, Clay said, as though an afterthought, “Keep a sweater on hand. Forecast said it’ll be cold today.”

              “Yes, sir.”

              Clay sighed, ruffled his hair, and with a warning glare at Michael, left.

              Only after they heard his car back out of the driveway did Alex dare sigh. He smiled. “I think he likes you!”

              Michael stared, not the slightest clue if his husband was being serious or not. “Is it at all possible he’ll break through the window in the next five hours?”

              Alex raised a brow. “No?”

              “Good,” he huffed. “Get your clothes off and get in bed. I need to work off whatever the hell that was.”

***

This was so much fun. You have no idea how much I needed it. Happy malex monday ❤️

[phantomwritezstuff077]

The Runt - Billy the Kid

Warnings for this chapter: Jesse Evans, swearing, slight misogyny?, mentions of abuse, PTSD

Chapter Ten

The next day, Laurie, Billy and Pat galloped through the plains in the direction of where Jesse and his gang were apparently now residing. Artax whinnied with glee upon feeling the wind in his mane, tossing his head around like an energetic colt with a snort. This caused Laurie to smile a little bit, she was feeling incredibly nervous about reuniting with Jesse, so it felt nice to have her best friend distract her for a moment, but she couldn’t help but let her mind wonder back to how Jesse might react to seeing her after all these months.

Would he be mad at her?

Would he hate her more than he already did before she left?

As they approached the ranch, a man stood up with a shotgun, he seemed ready to shoot them dead until he recognized Pat and called out to his buddies, letting them know that their comrade had returned with guests. Artax skidded to a stop as Laurie turned to Billy, she was visibly nervous and Billy could tell right away. The outlaw gave her a reassuring smile and nod, letting her know that it’ll be okay. It helped a little bit but it did not completely calm her nerves.

“Jesse, you may wanna come out here,” a man that Laurie immediately recognized as Bob called out into the house, taking a drag of his tobacco filled cigarette as he did so. Laurie took a deep breath, stroking her horse's fur as she waited for Jesse to come out. Her heart was pounding and she felt like her blood vessels were going to burst due to the adrenaline. 

Jesse walked out of the house, a cigar in his mouth. It was hard to tell what he was thinking when he saw Laurie and Billy on their horses, standing side-by-side. Laurie took another deep breath before she spoke.

“Hi, Jesse,” she said, adjusting Artax’s reins in her hands. Jesse didn’t say anything as he took a drag of his cigarette, Laurie recognized the gaze that was plastered on Jesse’s face.

And it was safe to say that the blond son of a bitch was beyond pissed at her. 

“We met Pat Garret here out on the road, minding our own business,” Billy jumped in, trying to take Jesse’s glare away from the already nervous teenager. Jesse just hummed in response as Billy looked around at the small ranch. “It’s a neat little hideout.”

“Oh, I like it. Real private,” Jesse answered, throwing away his cigarette, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked over. “You remember the boys?”

“Sure do,” Billy answered, his horse subtly taking a step forward, almost acting like a shield for Laurie. “This okay, Jesse?”

Jesse simply smiled at Billy, nodding his head. “Sure it is, Kid. I’m really glad to see you, Billy. And I’m even more happy to know that Lauren is safe.”

“She prefers Laurie,” Billy said to Jesse, who simply nodded with a shrug.

“Surely fate’s brought us back together again,” Jesse continued, “You gonna ride with us this time?” Jesse looked over at Laurie. “And actually stay with us?”

“Depends, you gonna treat Laurie like a human bein’ now?,” Billy asked, glancing at Laurie and then at the cow that was in the process of being prepared for food. “Also depends on what you’re cookin’.”

“Rustling John Chisum’s cattle. You’ve heard of John Chisum? They call him the Cattle King of America. He’s got cattle here in Texas, in New Mexico, all over Lincoln County. He is one rich son of a bitch, and we’re making good money selling his cattle to the army,” Jesse replied, “And as I’ve said before. I am gonna make it my life’s mission to make it up to Lauren for how I treated her. It was wrong.” He paused for a moment. “You two back in?” 

Laurie immediately called bullshit, she knew he didn’t regret a single thing when it came to how he treated her. Men like that never feel bad for what they do to the people who trusted them. But she nodded, saying yes for Billy’s sake. Because either it was to stay with the gang or go to some shitty orphanage. 

The red headed girl dismounted Artax, stroking the stallion’s neck before gently leading him to the water trough where she began to untack him. She gently tugged the bridle off of his face, giving him a mint before hanging it up on the fence post when she heard someone behind her. Laurie had memorized footsteps long enough to recognize it was Jesse who was approaching her. The young teenager whipped her head around to face him, she was still like a jumpy doe because of him.

“Runt,” Jesse said.

“Jesse,” Laurie sighed, hearing the all too familiar nickname never got any easier. Artax pinned his ears upon seeing Jesse, the stud never liked Jesse and the feeling was mutual on Jesse’s end as well.

“The hell were you thinkin’, running off like that?,” he hissed. Laurie took a slight step back, afraid that he would hit her again.

No, he wouldn’t do that.

Not when there were so many witnesses.

“I’m sorry, okay?,” Laurie responded, swallowing as she turned back around, undoing the cinch on Artax’s saddle. Jesse would’ve said more if Billy didn’t walk over to them, leaning on the fence as he tilted his head to the side.

“Just getting reacquainted,” Jesse reassured, seeing the look of suspicion on Billy’s face. Billy nodded, the look on his face screamed ‘better be.’ 

Laurie removed Artax’s saddle and rested it on the fence before gently putting a rope over the horse’s neck and leading him into the small pasture, but Artax didn’t leave Jesse unharmed. The stud purposefully stood on his foot and once that was done, he swished his tail, directly hitting Jesse in the face, whinnying in amusement. Laurie giggled quietly, secretly giving him a treat for that as she let him go into the pasture. 

ⅠⅠⅠⅠ

Later that night, Laurie sat at a table with Billy, eating her dinner quietly while the two friends engaged in conversation. She wasn’t really contributing anything but she knew that the two older men knew that she was there and that she was also listening. 

“What happened to Barbara?,” Billy suddenly asked, Laurie lifted her head upon the name. Even though Barbara did little to nothing to stop the ongoing abuse that Laurie would receive from Jesse, she also couldn’t help but wonder what happened to her, especially because she hadn’t seen her around. 

“Oh, you know, she, uh… moved on,” Jesse explained, “She left not long after Lauren ran off.”

“Moved on to where?,” Billy asked, wanting to know more as Laurie reached over, taking his whiskey and drinking it. 

“If you must know, she got herself a job as a schoolteacher,” Jesse sighed, getting a little annoyed at the constant stream of questions about his ex. “Can you imagine that? Miss Jones.”

Laurie shrugged, putting the bottle down and sharply inhaling. Her head becoming fuzzy as the alcohol clouded her mind, she shook her head, feeling rattled. SHe really needed to stop stealing drinks.

“Actually, I can,” Billy chuckled, smiling a little bit at the thought.

“Is that right?,” Jesse responded, “You didn’t think for a second that she was too beautiful just to waste her life as a teacher in school?”

“It ain’t a waste, Jesse,” Billy countered, adjusting his posture in his seat. “There are plenty of kids out there who would kill to be able to learn how to do stuff like readin’. Besides, Barbara was always a teacher. Shit, I think she taught me and you more than we could ever know.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Jesse scoffed, “What do you figure you can learn from a teacher in school you can’t find out for yourself?”

“Reading,” Laurie suddenly said, the alcohol she had just consumed making her a lot more confident now.

Jesse just shrugged once more, not really wanting to hear anymore of this as he got up. Billy looked over at Laurie, confused at her newfound confidence but when his eyes landed on the whiskey bottle he shook his head.

“Lightweight,” he sighed, standing up and helping the drunk teenager to her feet, taking her to where she would be sleeping that night. 

A/N:

LAURIE IS MY BABY

Artax's beef with Jesse is my new favorite thing ever

Will Laurie find her Mama? Or is she gonna remain motherless?

Tag:

@slutforsnow

[alex-guerin]

Music of My Heart

Summary: For the first time in his life, Michael wanted nothing more than to have a home with Alex, a family to call their own to make up for the shit hand they’d both been dealt. He wanted it so much it hurt like a physical blow to the chest. A family. Him and Alex. Their own family and home together.

His hopes and dreams all changed in the blink of an eye, though, once Jesse Manes found out about them.

Pairing: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes

Additional tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Teen Romance, Teen Pregnancy, Mpreg Alex Manes, Kidnapping, Jesse Manes is his own warning and war crime, A LOT of Angst, I promise it has a happy ending, Alien/Human Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, canon divergence from the toolshed scene, Roswell New Mexico Big Bang 2022, Caulfield Prison (Roswell New Mexico), Deep Sky (Roswell New Mexico), good guy Jim Valenti, Nora Truman lives, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, sticking with the show's usage of 90s songs for titles, title comes from a NSYNC song

Word Count: 62375          

Gifs are in chapter 15, but can also be found here and were created (along with the header) by the wonderful @angrycowboy​

Yes, it’s a teen!Malex fic. Yes, it’s an mpreg!Alex fic. Please give it a chance, though?

Read it on AO3

@rnmbb​

[dayscrazed]

I'm back with more Fanfic Fridays!

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Relationship: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes, Isobel Evans, Max Evans, Liz Ortecho, Kyle Valenti, Noah Bracken, Mr. Jones, Jesse Manes Maria DeLuca, Eduardo Ramos, Gregory Manes, Flint Manes, Nora Truman

Additional Tags: Future Child, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Multiverse, Future Child Time Travel, basically things happen out of order from canon, so it's better, Getting Together, Slow Burn, Falling In Love, Childhood Trauma, Facing Trauma, Detective Work, Alien Mysteries, Letters as Clues, Mindscapes, Possession, Mind Control, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, PTSD blackouts, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Group Mission, Surveillance, Caulfield, Deep Sky, The Lockhardt Machine, Lots of mindscapes, Alex is a genius hacker, Michael has trust issues, Science, Jesse Manes is a War Crime, Flint Manes isn't much better, Canon Disabled Character, Miscommunication, Alex Manes Needs a Hug, Michael Guerin Loves Alex Manes, Minor Max Evans/Liz Ortecho, Alex & Kyle Friendship, Pod Squad, AU Season 1, Based on The Winchesters, Alex is John and Michael is Mary

_______

When Alex Manes returns from war, he gets a mysterious letter from a young man who looks somehow familiar. That letter leads him to his family’s secret bunker and directly in the path of Michael Guerin and his mission to find answers about his family.

Alex and Michael must navigate their complicated history while following clues from an anonymous pen pal who somehow knows all their secrets and can give advice on how to uncover more alien mysteries and survive their enemies.

Friends get involved. Relationships are tested. Secrets come out. Powers are discovered. Deep fears are faced.

The story takes place the summer Alex returns (the timeline of season 1) and is loosely based off of and inspired by “The Winchesters” (Michael= Mary; Alex= John).

[dr-lizortecho]

Malex fic masterlist

in chronological order <3

within series

gonna learn to love you right (Teen, 1.247 words) —pre-Michael Guerin/Alex Manes/Forrest along (Michael isn’t in this one)—

summary: It had been a difficult transition, learning to see a different side of Forrest, a more disciplined and structured side. Harsh edges that could have been forged in war, or rather from being a skeptic all too close to the truth.

content warnings: none

inner sanctum (Teen, 1.001 words) — Michael Guerin/Kyle Valenti/Alex Manes—

summary: It was strange, that settled feeling that came with becoming all too familiar with the inner workings of someone else’s house. The knowledge of where to find everything, at the same time that he felt out of place.

Something he was working on, not feeling like an intruder in Alex’s inner sanctum.

“Omelets?” Alex asks, holding up a carton of eggs.

content warnings: implied/referenced sexual content

au

did the love affair maime you too? (Explicit, 2.625 words) WIP

summary: Set in an alternate universe where Oatian refugees get their citizenship sponsored by wealthy humans and have to pay off their debts however they see fit.

In which the Manes and Valenti families start Caulfield an unsavory whore house essentially

content warnings: explicit sexual content, underage, indentured servitude, non-con

Swing Life Away (Explicit, 127.247 words)

summary: Kyle Valenti was part of one of those families. The ones in small towns that everyone knew. It made the pressure to be perfect even more heavy. So when three new (and very strange) teens move into town he does what his parents expect, invites them into his little friend group.

Until Liz and Alex pick up on the weird undertones that follow the Evans’ triplets around. Fires catching, lights exploding, and perfect grades.

Their old pact from elementary school biting Kyle in the ass, since once one of them invokes the code no one can back out, until they’ve investigated. Even if the last time they nearly ruined the Valenti’s marriage. And Liz Ortecho has fancied herself Nancy Drew since the third grade.

content warnings: rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence, underage, religious content (both positive and negative), past child abuse, past sexual abuse, cults, homophobia

Treading Water (Explicit, 16.962 words) WIP

summary: Kyle Valenti’s life keeps getting more and more complicated, between working shifts as an ADN and kickstarting the private investigation business he’d pinky swore to in elementary school. All while Alex and Liz attempt to keep their own careers and finish their degrees.

The Evans triplets are struggling to find where they belong in their social circle, thanks to Max’s dumbass choices.

Anatsa Mufaro finds herself in Roswell chasing a story that will lead to the beating heart of the town and threaten to ensnare her own.

Bonnie Parker has been missing for almost a month when her case finds itself added to all of their plates.

content warnings: explicit sexual content, dubious consent, mentioned underage sex, statutory rape, past sexual abuse, past childhood abuse, implied/referenced self harm

If We’re Made of Stardust… (Teen, 15.781 words)

summary: On your twenty-first birthday, that was the government mandated date. Twenty-one they reasoned was mature enough to handle anything leveled your way, alcohol, wars, and the all elusive soul mate.

content warnings: Jesse Manes is a prick, implied sexual content

[signoraviolettavalery]

Just needed to share this line I just wrote for a Malex fic because it made me scream as I was writing it

“Jesse Manes had given him many a beating, but for Alex Manes, Michael would fetch the whip himself.”

[lambourngb]

If you are still doing this, to make it through (with hearts and wrists intact)

combining the wip ask with WIP Wednesday ! Alright, so there’s two remix challenges going on right now, but I didn’t sign up for either of them because I have enormous anxiety about deadlines and I’m also kind of a control freak about my work. I do love the concept, so I decided to remix my own work.

to make it through (with hearts and wrists intact) is a remix of Last Years Wishes. It is completely the fault of @haloud who mused aloud about what if Jesse got to use the shed on Michael. You guys remember what I did to the shed in LYW right? Yeah. Poor Michael. So while Alex is waiting at the Airstream, talking to agents Ross and Rollins, this is how Michael’s day is going....

[warnings: canon divergent within 1x13, mention of Michael’s feelings for Maria, but nothing happens past the discovery of Rosa’s body in the cave ]

“Old man, you are calling me on my day off,” Michael yelled into the receiver of his cell phone speaker over the rushing sound of air after picking up the call. 

The windows were down because his AC in his truck went on the frizz again sometime during when Max had stolen-borrowed it to drive Liz home from Texas, leaving him behind to share a long awkward ride with Maria in her classic Chevy. Awkward because he had been buzzing from the encounter in the desert. He hadn’t slept with anyone in weeks, not since Alex, and that had been a ridiculous attempt for him to pine in celibacy considering just how little the other man had missed him. Some things end in a whimper.

Texas had been about hope, about maybe finding someone who was connected to him on a species level. He hadn’t realized how deeply Max’s enthusiasm had sunk into him until the fraud had been revealed and disappointment had set in. Between Alex’s brusque brush off and realizing they really were alone on this planet, Michael hadn’t thought he could feel even lower with the weight of Isobel’s salvation fully on his shoulders (and Liz’s). Then shining like a bright star in the night sky, he had found Maria. 

She had effectively chased away the touch starved ghouls that had haunted his skin that night, he could still barely believe they had dropped right to the rocky ground and scratchy blanket to fuck. It was the type of raw passion he had with- no, in that particular moment he hadn’t thought about Alex but afterwards? He couldn’t avoid the connection the next morning, particularly when she had sworn him to secrecy, and then had reinforced it when she had fully kicked him out in the cold after he had returned her repaired necklace. 

It was unfortunate for her that he was already wired to enjoy a push-pull hot-cold dynamic.

Ten years of Alex Manes meant Michael had learned to read past a blustering denial to see the real truth. She really liked him, she just didn’t want to admit it, and good god, if that wasn’t a déjà vu moment for Michael, he didn’t know what was. Maybe it was stupid to believe it would work out any better with her than it had with Alex, but with Noah dead, his m- his reason for building his ship gone, what did it hurt to try again?

His healed hand curled around the grip on the steering wheel with a shiver of disorientation at the new flexibility, but he pushed it down to concentrate on that meager bubble of hope of what was ahead for him. Maria. Normalcy. When he had offered to leave her alone at the gala, she had refused to take him up on it. That's the problem, I never do. 

It had felt good to hear that, that he was wanted, even as he heard the conflict in her voice over what she desired versus what she thought she deserved to have. That was also painfully familiar to Michael as well.

Caulfield had seeped into his skin, three layers deep in the worst type of burn. That brief moment of his mother, wrapping around his mind with her love and sorrow and hope, and then she was gone. The screaming, that he had heard from outside the chain link fence, suddenly disappeared as the explosion moved outward in a shockwave. For a few minutes he had stood on solid ground in that prison, for the first time since a sweet boy had returned his kiss at seventeen under a galaxy of plastic foam planets, and then it was over. His mother was gone, and in her stead, he had Alex telling him that -

Michael forcefully pushed that thought away and returned his attention back to the cranky drawl of Walt Sanders, “I know kid, but I’m already out with the wrecker in the other ass-end direction, so I need you to go help this cry baby who can’t change a flat. Help me make some money, so I can afford to keep your ass employed.” 

“Fine, tell me the location, but this is holiday pay, not overtime.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanders muttered, before rattling off the mile marker and the highway. “It’s a Lincoln sedan, black. Probably some old geezer out on a drive to church who ran into trouble.”

“You calling someone else a geezer is funny to me, I hope you know that,” Michael replied, hitting his turn signal to make a left to pick up the state road. It wasn’t as if he had a planned time to see Maria, the lunch hour and official opening of the bar was still an hour away. A little delay that made him some extra cash was doable. 

“Shut the hell up kid, and get going,” Sanders griped good-naturedly, before hanging up on Michael. 

The sun was bright overhead, the storm from the night before having washed the land and sky clean of clouds. Across the pavement ahead, the heat and the brightness, cast a mirage of dark shimmering water that creeped just out of reach as he drove toward his new destination. His mind ticked over the set of priorities ahead, to make a little money with a tire change, then to drop in on Maria to make his case, and finally, he knew he needed to swing by Isobel’s to check on her in the aftermath of Noah’s betrayal. Somewhere in all of that, he knew he would need to make it home to see Alex for that promised talk, but there was plenty of time for that because Alex rarely came by during the day to see him.

“I’m still fighting his battles, not mine.”

Michael flexed his hands on the steering wheel again and pushed down the heaviness in his heart that accompanied thinking about Alex. Ten long years of waiting and wanting him. If Michael cared to count up all of the trips to Roswell that Alex had made on leave, the two weeks together after the class reunion that frankly felt like a hallucination to Michael, all of those hours spent together would add up to a month. A month that stretched out over ten years, 520 weeks, or 3,650 days.

Counting the distance to the nearest star was in light years, but when it came to counting the distance between the stash of wedding rings he had purchased for Alex over the years and what he had been actually allowed to have with Alex, well, that was a calculation beyond the redshift spectrum. It would take energy to transverse that distance one more time, and Michael had nothing left inside to fuel that journey. He couldn’t afford to be lost in the black again, not with Isobel in free-fall from Noah’s years of manipulations, not with the prospect of telling Liz they had found Rosa’s body on the horizon. It was just too hard to believe that this time, with Alex calling him family, with Alex throwing back the closest declaration to love that he had ever made, actually meant he was ready to move toward Michael and work to cut the distance between them on his own.

It was better to head forward in a new direction, than to look back like Max had said. Besides, every other time he had failed to be enough of a reason to help Alex bridge his own chasm between what he wanted and what he had allowed himself to have. What could have changed? Caulfield had just cemented the complications for them both. 

A dark shadow in the distance, parked just off the road caught Michael’s attention. He glanced down at the odometer to mark the mileage and started to ease up on the gas. That must be the motorist Sanders had fielded a call from earlier, he realized. The ‘old geezer’ in the black Lincoln with a flat tire. He glanced in the rearview mirror to check for traffic but the road behind him was devoid of other vehicles. 

Michael hit the turn signal and hazard lights on his truck, turning briefly to the side to check that he had some spare water bottles for the customer and his toolbox within reach and then turned onto the shoulder of the highway. Mentally he was already five steps ahead of himself as he stepped out of the truck to approach the car, thinking about the size of socket to fit over the lug nuts for the Lincoln’s wheels, whether his torque wrench was even in his box, or if he would have to camouflage his telekinetic efforts to change out the tire, that it took a moment to realize the tires on the Lincoln were whole and unharmed on the driver’s side.

Puzzled, Michael slowed his approach, and started toward the passenger side of the car. The windows were rolled up and dark, the tint was straddling the threshold of legal for New Mexico. There was still no sign of defect in the tires, he noticed as he was halfway around the passenger fender. Faulty tire gauge, he mused before he noticed the engine was rumbling almost inaudibly. Fucking hybrid, which meant whatever issue it had been definitely beyond the parts available at Sanders.

It was a little odd that the driver hadn’t stepped out to greet Michael, but not terribly unusual when it came to elderly customers who seemed to have a healthy paranoia about everyone they encountered. Still, Michael pasted a smile on his face and tapped on the window. 

The automatic window slipped downward in an expensive whisper, but it wasn’t a helpless old man on his way to church at the wheel. 

Jesse Manes smiled at Michael flashing his teeth, “Surprise.” Before Michael could do more than step backward, Jesse lifted a large gun-shaped object and fired. Yellow particulate matter exploded into the air, enveloping Michael completely. Pulling his arm to his mouth to attempt to block the pollen, did little good as he felt the sedating effects almost immediately.

He coughed into the open air, scrambling back toward his truck on weak legs as he tried to clear his lungs of the fast-acting poison. Behind him, he heard the car door open, and the crunch of boots on the loose gravel from the road’s shoulder as Jesse approached him. Though his powers were gone and his strength was waning fast, Michael had never backed down from a fight in life.

Certainly, not a fight for his life.

Swinging with all of his might, he hurled his heavy toolbox at Jesse blindly. There was a thump and a curse, but the footsteps kept coming. Animal-like terror set in as Michael crawled now on his knees toward the cab of his truck. He had to move, he had to live, he wasn’t going to die here on the side of the damn road- Suddenly a black boot came down on his hand, pinning him place and lighting up a fierce agony of pain in its wake.

“I like the fight, Guerin, I do,” Jesse remarked with a quiet menace. “Shall I make this hand match your other-” 

It was on the tip of Michael’s tongue to point out the obvious, but then Jesse saw it for himself. His left hand, healed and pristine, clutching at the hot blacktop surface. 

“I see.” He barked out a laugh that chilled Michael. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t the only one in Roswell. I thought about killing you right here you know, but now, you might finally serve a purpose in your useless life. You thought you could use my son in your perverted schemes? Well now it’s your turn to be bait.” 

Michael’s vision was already fading into blindness with the pollen taking hold, but he managed to spit out between numb lips, “Go fuck yourself.”

“Not today. You’re the one who is fucked.” A hand grabbed a tight hold of Michael’s hair, wrenching him backward, and then it was merciful darkness. 

*** 

[lire-casander]

Happy birthday, @skrtl! I know today hasn’t started in the best of ways, but I hope this helps you somehow, even if it’s angst. Te quiero mucho, cariño.

Beta’ed by @moderngenius94 who is one of the most amazing people I know. Thanks!

cw includes angst, blood, war, gun violence, gun injuries, referenced torture, jesse manes is his own warning, hopeful ending

Alex Manes has always loved the smell of rain, the sound of drops hitting glass, the feeling of belonging whenever the storm poured over him.

He never understood why, until he met Michael Guerin.

There was always a lingering scent whenever he touched Michael, and he craved that feeling like an addict craves their high.

[eveningspirit]

RNM 2x09 finally made me feel something. Something positive, I mean, because I'm not so good at processing negative feels. I tend to ignore them. At least on a meta level. Like how I ignored the scene of Jesse leaning into Alex last week and Alex feeling reluctantly empathetic toward his monster of a father.

I am truly relieved that I don't have to reevaluate my feelings toward Jesse Manes. He's a lier, a manipulator, and a monster. He's not a character I love to hate btw, I just hate him. Is it a positive feeling? It's not a positive feeling... Eeeh, feels are complicated. Anyway.

I feel compassion toward Alex. I find his situation very plausible, this complicated situation where some part of him wants to believe his father can be a better person. I am glad he will not be obligated to forgive him. Being fooled by Jesse though -- that's very human. Would I rather see him better his father at those games? Sure I would. And I hope we will get that. But at the moment, him falling for Jesse's act? It makes me relate to him, like I used to.

Jesse is cruel. Using Alex's disability, mocking it this way? Shouldn't be surprising, but it's a new low. It will be so satisfying to see Alex get the better of him finally, and for good, at some point.

[ladynox]

Snippet from Untitled Malex Demon AU

This snippet is from a very rough draft of a fic idea that I really love but am struggling to get right. Jesse Manes is summoning a demon. Alex is the chosen sacrifice. Two plus two is four, sure, but it's not all what it seems. Jesse's gonna get way more than he bargained for...

---

Jesse had picked up the knife. Plain and nondescript though it was, the edge still gleamed wickedly in the candle light.

“Dad, I don’t care if I disgust you--”

“...ad constringendum, ad ligandum eos pariter et solvendum et ad congregandum eos…”

“I’m still your--” The knife was so sharp it cut across his flesh like paper and felt like barely more than a sting. It wasn’t a shallow cut though, just not deep enough to kill. That wasn’t the point after all, Alex thought bitterly. The knife only cut deep enough for the blood to seep from his chest and trail down his sternum and belly before spilling down his sides and into the sigils carved into the cold granite below him. 

The coldness seeped into him in return.

Alex was going to die tonight. Not just his body. His soul too. Sure it may survive momentarily, warming the belly of some fell beast. But that light would peter out too eventually, and Alex Manes would cease to exist. 

The chanting had stopped. Jesse was staring down at him with anticipation and grim determination, as if this was something difficult for him.  As if he wasn’t pleased to finally have a use for the family disappointment. Finally able to wipe away the stain of weakness Alex had smeared on the family name, like the amniotic fluid on pristine sheets, from the moment he was born.

Born wrong. 

[masterwords]

stuck like glue

Summary: Teenage shenanigans. Jess drags Hotch and Sean out to the lake for a lazy summer afternoon and things do not go as planned.

Pairings: None (Well, Hotch & Haley, but she's not in the story)

Warnings: abuse, injuries (back & hand), near drowning

Notes: Oh my gosh. I wrote something. Like an actual story came from my brain and made it to SO MANY WORDS after more than a month of a dry spell. Hopefully this means we'll have more...I have a few prompts in my inbox to get to, and a few others. This is kind of meant to be a backstory for ANOTHER long one I'm working on that will hopefully be done this week.

Word Count: 6.7k

Read on AO3: stuck like glue

**

She was tired. Exhausted, really. Summer classes started in two weeks (right along with her cushy job at the movie theatre) and it was the only two weeks she'd have fully off...she'd been planning to spend it riding her bike to the lake and sitting all day on the sand. It was more of a glorified watering hole, bigger than a pond but nothing like the grand lakes most kids would go spend their entire summers at. The reeds that surrounded its murky waters were as tall as she was, tall enough to afford her enough privacy that sometimes she decided to make sure her top half was properly and evenly tanned. No one around for miles to yell “Hey, Jess, put those things away!”

But her lake plans were on hold because Haley and Hotch were supposed to be camp counselors for a whole week and then Hotch had to go and get himself hurt. She wasn't really sure how bad it was, she hadn't had time to see him yet (or maybe she'd been avoiding him) but Haley assured her it was bad. So first he missed summer camp, and then he would miss tryouts for Shakespeare at the park, and to add insult to injury, he wouldn't make it to auditions for the summer production at the Children's Theatre. He was up a creek without a paddle, stuck at home with Sean for the foreseeable future. At least that had been the idea, but like all things in his life...plans change, and never in accordance with his desires.

On his first full day alone at home after "the fall" as Haley had come to call it so quickly, she'd taken her bike to his house just to see. His dad was at work, his mom had tennis, Haley was wrangling rowdy kids at summer camp and he was alone with Sean. With her backpack slung over one shoulder, she skidded her bicycle down the gravel road, twisting and going hands free every now and then, her unruly lion's mane blowing wildly in the wind. Two weeks of summer and planned to suck up every last drop, no matter what.

But she was so tired, and by the time she was dumping her bike on the Hotchner lawn and tugging the cuffs of her overalls back down, she'd already worried about what she was going to walk in to find. She could see Sean through the big picture window. He was standing over the couch pouting and she knew better than to knock. Hotch was hurt but he'd get up anyway, and she knew where the key was kept so there was really no reason to put any of them through it. He'd get up, she'd scold him for it...best to avoid it entirely.

Third board to the right of the rug, the one with the heart shaped knot, she peeled it up and pulled the key out quickly, getting the door open before he even had a chance to sit himself up. She'd been worried for nothing though, because at the moment of her entry, he couldn't have managed sitting up on his own. Not even as stubborn as he was.

“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, always finding a reason to be mad at something. She huffed and put her hands on her hips, staring at him, assessing the situation. Like hell she was going to be taking any shit from a kid who couldn't even roll himself over unassisted.

“Haley said you got hurt.” She paused, licking her Dr. Pepper chapstick lips and frowned, lowering her voice an octave. “Your dad?”

His sudden frown mirrored hers. “No.”

“Yeah right.” She wasn't about to let him lie to her, but this time he wasn't lying and he explained it in as few words as possible. The pain in his back was still fresh and at times overwhelming, he really didn't have the energy to expend on words. But he could find enough for this, to let his dad off the hook this time.

“I fell out of the treehouse.”

She rolled her eyes, but crouched beside him anyway to hear the rest of the sorded tale. Sean threw his arms happily around her neck, his sticky popsicle mouth tickling against her cheek when he whispers to her that Hotch is actually telling the truth. “I went up there to fix a broken railing, didn't want Sean to fall...”

“Well you're obviously not much of a handyman then, huh?” But she softened her tone and touched a scrape on his arm, probably the least of his concerns but it was big and angry red. “How bad is it?”

He looked at Sean and nodded for him to leave the room for a minute. “I told Sean I'm okay,” he started quietly, his voice hoarse and thick with what she suspected might be tears he'd been choking back for his brother's sake. “But I don't know. I can barely walk, Jess.”

“You know that's what hospitals are for, right?”

“Jess,” he groaned, letting his eyes drift closed miserably. “I can't do that and you know it.”

“Why the hell not?” Except she knew damn well why the hell not. He didn't need to explain to her the delicacy of his situation, his father, the hospital. He was skating on thin ice.

“Just tell them Aaron. They'll call the cops and...”

“And if my dad goes to jail, then what? He's the only income we have...”

That was it. That was how her summer started. And after two weeks, when she was working and taking morning classes to get ahead of her senior year, she thought that was the worst it could get.

And then Haley went to cheer camp and Hotch got a job and things got worse.

It wasn't an ideal summer job, but then, the idea of a job over the summer really wasn't ideal to begin with. Not that Hotch minded working, he actually quite liked keeping his hands and his mind busy but working for his father's firm was about the last thing he would have wanted to do. He would rather shovel slop from the sewers, and if such a job existed and was hiring, he might be inclined to apply. His father's full-time assistant was taking on twice as much work since the elder Hotchner had gotten sick, and they needed a file clerk. That meant another paycheck to dole out...unless he could get someone to do the work for free.

Enter his son whose relatively new back injury had sidelined him from just about every summer plan he'd mapped out to keep himself busy and out of the house for nearly sixty days.

“Honey, he needs your help and you can use the experience when you apply to universities...” His mother was a fierce negotiator. She always appealed to his good nature first in the hope that he wouldn't press further, but in this instance, he wasn't going down without a fight. This wasn't just going to ruin his summer, it would have tendrils that licked and twisted into every aspect of his life forever, he knew it. “Besides, what else are you going to do? Lay around like a lump and watch the television all day? If you let that back injury become an excuse, you'll regret it forever.”

It was a vague illusion of power, of autonomy. She was still phrasing it like it was a question, like he had options. He knew he really had no choice, though. He would work for his father because she was right...what else would he do with his summer? He'd just worked up to being able to ride his bike short distances again without wanting to die, so all of his youth summer camp and sports dreams were dead in the water. The community pool only enticed him for about the first week or two when there was still enough of a chill in the air that the pool wasn't packed. When the temperatures exploded into the triple digits and the humidity was off the charts, unless you wanted to pack in like sardines, you couldn't hang out there anymore. Kids shitting in the pool every other day didn't help, either, because then the rivers and the lakes were packed.

Anyway, his back hurt too much to argue with her. She had an ice pack and some tylenol in her hands and almost seemed to be witholding them until he offered her his reluctant agreement. Then he got the pills and the iced tea and the kiss on the top of the head that made his skin crawl.

“Good honey,” she smiled. And then came the insult to injury. He wouldn't be getting a paycheck. “You're getting paid in experience,” she hissed, her honeyed smile twisting when he asked how he was supposed to pay for gas to and from the office if he wasn't getting a paycheck. “Jessica works at the movie theatre doesn't she? See if she can help you get on there part time. You could run a show or scoop some popcorn...Sean wouldn't mind a free ticket or two.” He didn't want to do that, though. A full-time unpaid job at his father's was already a nightmare but to put a part time job on top of it? He did want to see Haley and his friends at some point in the summer so he caved and agreed that the office would be fine, yes, he'd be happy to just get experience and instead he got well acquainted with walking or riding his bike. No self-respecting 17-year-old rode their bike when they had access to a car, but then, he'd realized a long while before that he really wasn't all that self-respecting. He just existed. Riding his bike hurt his back, but then so did the endless bending over and reaching up high and carrying box after box of files so what was one more thing? It would eventually heal. And if not...

“Psst,” Jess hissed from the office doorway, her mountain of curls piled high on her head to expose her neck. She was sweating, it was damn hot outside. The air was soupy and thick and she, bless her soul, had come on her bike. Jess wasn't worried about being a self-respecting teenager...she loved her bike and the wind in her hair as it whipped around like a lion's mane in her face. More than that, she loved that she would ride with him out into the dirt trails and up into the cool shade of the woods to their own little oasis. A tiny creek that bubbled icy water ankle deep. She and Haley and Hotch would spend hours there on the hottest days, basking in the shade and the frigid water. She'd even managed to throw Sean onto her banana seat and bring him along once or twice now that he was old enough. They could all be free with only the bees and the crickets for company. “You done yet slowpoke?”

He glanced up at her, surprised at the time and sighed. Not fast enough, he tried to hide his hand but she caught sight of it. Angry and red knuckles, a bruise pooling pale blue and spreading from his middle finger up the back of his hand. He was filing one handed and moving slowly. It wasn't the bruise that caught her eye and held it though, it was the tiny crimson crescent of blood that made her sigh and level her stare at him. Accusing but soft enough. “No,” he said softly, pulling his hand behind his back. “I'm going to be a while. Go on without me.”

That would have turned most people away. If it were his friend Ben, he would have shrugged, blown a bubble with his Big League Chew bubblegum and popped it on his way out. No big deal, he would say. Not Jess, though. She walked in with her arms folded over her chest, chewing her Fruit Stripes gum loudly and he watched her eyes trail the stacks of paperwork he was sorting and filing. One handed. Pretending to use both hands was getting him nowhere...and anyway, he was pretty sure it wasn't broken. Just bruised. Just stupid and bruised. “Can I help? I got two hands...” She smirked and he mimicked her in his snottiest way, a brief moment of levity in an otherwise too heavy moment.

“You should go...” He was pleading and the despair in his voice made her shiver. He'd managed to protect Haley from his father. She hadn't even met him yet, a fact that distressed her endlessly. Like she thought maybe he didn't like her if he wouldn't bring her home, but Jess had met him more than once and she could attest to his skittishness when it came to bringing Haley around. Jess wasn't like Haley, she wasn't fragile and sweet, she had a hard enough exterior that she could take his father with a grain of salt. She didn't need to be protected. Still, he wanted to keep her from his wrath.

“What, your dad would be upset if someone else helped get work done for him? I doubt it. Who would turn down free labor?”

“J-Jess...” His voice was scarcely above a whisper but she heard that stutter loud and clear. It made her freeze, cocking her head slightly to the side. He hadn't stuttered in a while now, not since he'd joined the debate team and learned how to regulate his cadence and word choices. Not since they'd worked so hard to get past it. Something had happened and she didn't like it. She scrunched her nose and he pleaded with her silently to let it drop, not to make him say another word. Jess thought it was working here that was bringing it out (and that hand...probably punched a wall...he was falling apart) but you couldn't say anything like that to his mother. She would huff and puff and fire off a litany of excuses until you gave in, a quivering puddle, and admitted that it was the child's weak spirit and he needed toughening up.

He needed no such thing, at least insofar as Jess could see. “Let me help. I know my ABC's, Hotchner, I can file...”

“Miss Brooks, to what do we owe the pleasure?” The voice was syrupy and Southern, dripping with charm and she felt her neck flush. Shrinking momentarily, she watched as Hotch looked down at his papers sheepishly and she saw his adam's apple bob up and down. The change in his demeanor was automatic and she'd never hated anything more in her life.

“Mr. Hotchner,” she swung around, adjusting her own posture and smiling her best. No anger, no fear, she couldn't let him see how he made her feel. Men like this, she knew all too well from her own father's stories about too many nights down at the townie bar...they needed to feel you shrink before them. She wouldn't allow it. With that forced stage smile she extended her hand to him. “Aaron and I were going to ride to the library to do some research. We were assigned...” Hotch shuddered at her lie and forced his please-don't-let-it-be-broken hand to close around a manilla folder and slide it into place. Anything to avoid the way he would blow her lie right out of the water.

“It can wait, you have all summer. Aaron has work to do.” He was dismissive and disappeared quickly, without another word. The less time he hung around, the less she had to put on the brave front and the less she had to watch her friend cower like a mouse. While Jessica went red with anger, Hotch only breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone about as good as he could ever dare hope. Better, maybe. Her lie had gone over like a lead balloon, but he hadn't called either of them on it and for that he was grateful.

“You really should go.”

“Aaron...”

“Jess, please.”

She didn't argue this time. The bruised knuckles, the tiny crescent of blood, the look in his eye...it all added up to a storm she didn't want to bring on. He was having a rough day and she couldn't make it better by pushing him. “Okay,” she agreed, but she didn't go far.

She waited in the back stairwell. They one she had tiptoed up so no one would see her, the one she and Hotch would sit and eat their lunch in sometimes when she was on her way to work and made an extra sandwich. He liked pb&j as much as any child she'd ever met, maybe more. The sweet look of innocence that flashed in his eyes at that first bite couldn't be replicated in any other way and she wondered what he thought about. Haley had told her once that he'd been very close with his grandmother and she thought maybe that was it, memories of a woman he missed dearly. In any case, she had no sandwiches this time, only a desperate desire to ride her bike up into the woods or out to the lake...anywhere but here. So she waited for him, her only friend. She could entertain herself for hours alone, she was plenty resourceful. Plus she always kept a book in the front pocket of her overalls for just such an occasion. Holing up at the edge of the bottom stair, she kicked out her legs, wiggled her toes in her sandals, and started reading.

She was halfway through “Animal Farm”, and her water bottle, when she heard his footsteps coming toward her. For a moment she contemplated hidng and ambushing him, but then she thought of his hand again and decided against it. Foolhardy, he was going to be in no mood for her shenanigans. She just needed to get him away from here.

“I can't go,” he said softly, before he even rounded the corner. He knew she was waiting, he could smell her cucumber melon body spray. Haley liked sugary vanilla, she smelled like his favorite bakery, and Jessica smelled like a garden in summer. “I have to go to the post office, and I'm on spazz duty the rest of the day.” By the time she saw him, she had her arms folded defiantly across her chest.

“I'll drop that off at the post office, you go get Sean and bring him to the lake. We'll skip the creek today, okay? Come on it's like a thousand degrees outside...Sean needs a cool down too.”

He chewed his lip while he considered his options and while he definitely knew he shouldn't chance it...he was going to. His parents were ruining his entire summer, he would take one night for himself and still do everything they asked of him. “Okay. Make sure it gets there before the last pick up okay? It's important...” For some Senator his dad rubbed elbows with and was probably living very comfortably in the pocket of. He was learning a lot about his dad's job but none of it was exactly going to be helpful if he didn't want to play dirty. His dad was the king of dirty.

By the time they were all at the lake, Hotch's back had nearly seized up, his hand was throbbing, and Jess was sweating from head to toe. “I got there,” she announced while sucking huge gulps of air, dropping her bike beside his and taking in the sight of Sean splashing in the water. Hotch just sat on his towel on the beach, eyeing the spreading bruise over his knuckles with some fascination. “You're welcome.”

“Oh, yeah...thanks...” he muttered, poking at his swollen knuckle. She rolled her eyes and plopped down beside him in a spray of sand that stuck to the backs of her now bare legs, her denim overalls a few paces back in a heap. She'd shed layers incrementally until she was in nothing but her bathing suit, nudging him in his bulky sweater that looked like misery at the best of times but right now looked like it had been pulled from the pits of hell.

“Off,” she instructed, tugging at it. “Before you die of a heat stroke.” He only glared at her, but he did what she said because no matter how defiant he wanted to be, she was right. He couldn't sit there in his sweater all evening. Once he'd shed that last layer, she was satisfied and decided it was best to stop bossing him around while he was still being compliant. Before he started fighting back. Instead, she got up and crept across the beach, sneaking up on Sean who was lost in the world of tiny fish swimming around his ankles.

Around them the reeds hugged close to the shoreline, swaying in the gentle June breeze. Cat tails sprung up between them and Hotch thought about a time when he'd been young and innocent enough to cut one and bring it home. He hadn't realized that letting it dry out would have catastrophic results, and returning to his bedroom after a long day spent on the tire swing in the orchard, he expected to drop into his bed a puddle of sweat and dirt and happy sunshine smell only to find that the cat tail had exploded. Right along with his dreams of a quiet evening. Cottony puffs were everywhere, on every surface, and he panicked, shut the door quickly behind him before either of his parents could see what he'd done. At first he didn't even understand it, what could have happened? It looked like a teddy bear had been eviscerated in the middle of his room. And then he saw the empty jar, the stalk, the last dredges of pillowy innards clinging to the sides. It was letting him know what happeend, a secret message.

“Shit...” he'd muttered, the first time ever saying that word in his home. He clapped his hands over his mouth and stared toward the door, as if he'd set off some chain of events by saying that word in these walls...he expected his door to fly off of its hinges and the angry red face of his whiskey barrel father to appear. But divine providence smiled on him that evening and nothing happened. He cleaned up his room and got rid of the evidence as quickly as his little legs would carry him. The next day he walked to the library and checked out a book on plants, figuring he had an awful lot to learn and he had all summer to do it. If he didn't know what cat tails were capable of, what else did he not know?

“Jessica,” he said, shifting uncomfortably on the sand to grab the pocket knife from his back pocket. “Cut me a cat tail.” He handed her the knife and, thankfully, she obliged. He called Sean over to him and, with the knife in hand, dragged the blade agonizingly slow down the side of it, reveling in the way the insides puffed into his hands and scattered on the breeze. Sean's eyes went wide with wonder.

“How'd you do that?” Sean exclaimed, ready to go rip another cat tail from its stalk to see it again and again. Hotch grinned and shook his head.

“Magic.”

And it was, though not the kind he was implying or the kind that Sean took it to mean. This wasn't some man in a cape pulling a rabbit from a hat, this was better. He hoped that someday Sean could see that it was nature that was magic, not him. Sean lost interest fast and plunged toward the water's edge gleefully. He knew how to swim, at least enough to be passable, but Hotch felt a little fear twist in his belly anyway. They weren't supposed to be out here, they were supposed to be at home making dinner and working through Sean's summer reading program. He had a whole map to fill up and a mountain of expectations they had little hope of meeting if they skirted their obligations every night like this.

But Hotch was angry and indignant. He would take one night for himself.

Jess sat beside him and bumped his shoulder, peeling away quickly when she saw him wince. He'd tried to hide it but she saw it. “Shit,” she muttered. “I'm sorry, I forgot.”

“No big,” was his cool reply. They watched Sean splash his way through the water without fear, through the sand and up to his knees trying to catch the tiny little fish that circled his legs. He held his breath, held perfectly still, then plunged his chubby fingers beneath the surface only to come up empty handed. Each time he would take another step, thinking maybe if he was further out he'd have more luck, until he was waist deep and splashing wildly. Somewhere he'd gone from fisherman to wild animal, Hotch figured. His mind ticked games away so fast Hotch could scarcely keep up with him.

“How'd you hurt your hand?” Jess asked, reaching out to grab it and pull it to her. A look of silent concentration washed over her face while she poked and pressed, none of this hurt terribly. It looked uglier than it felt...mostly just stiff fingers and tender bruises now. He considered his options carefully...there was always lying, he could easily say he'd fallen off of his bike. With his back as stiff as it was, it seemed likely but he did hate to lie to her. It felt like breaking something precious and fragile, he'd yet to lie to her and in his vast experience...once you started lying, it was awfully hard to stop. Just ask the hospital about the pages in his medical file. However, telling her the truth, that his father had gotten him so blocked up by poking at him that he got lost in a hole stuttering for at least ten minutes and he'd decided the only way to reset his brain was by smashing his fist into the exposed pipe that ran along the wall of the men's room enough times that the sludge broke free of the dam and he could think again...well that sounded just a little too real, a little too raw for sitting on the beach with his toes in the sand. Maybe he could find a careful middle ground, not quite a lie but not quite the truth.

“Aaron?” she asked again, and he blinked at her with a wash of confusion in his eyes that concerned her. Great, he thought, now she probably thinks I've got a concussion too. “Earth to Hotchner...”

“Sorry, what did you say?” he asked, pulling a few more minutes of decision-making time out of thin air. She laughed and let his hand drop back into his own lap, shaking her head. This was where the magic became real...she didn't ask him again. The question had distressed him to the point that he'd what, gone into the ether for a full two minutes with a blank look on his face?

“Nothing,” she replied quietly, figuring she'd get at the root of the problem somehow later. His father had a reputation for being a beast, and if she'd not seen him that morning before work she might be apt to think he'd been knocked around but not at the office...no way the man would ever tarnish his reputation. The silence settled in between them, until their entire world was insulated and peaceful. There was the sun high above them, beating down on their already pink shoulders, and Sean's squeals of delight seemed far away. He is the sun and you are the moon, his mother would always say, but he thought that wasn't quite right. Sean was certainly the sun but he couldn't believe he was anything as lovely as the moon, and he would argue it with his mother once he'd gotten old enough to know better. I'm not the moon, mama, I'm the fog on the treetops...and he hadn't exactly meant it to sound as sad as it did, but he saw that bright shine of tears in her eyes and he hated the idea that he'd made his mother cry. But she never argued with him. Later, when he started yelling back at his father, when he started punching walls (instead of faces), he knew that he was no longer peaceful fog...he was a great black storm cloud ready to open wide and rain anything in its path with violent hail. “Aaron?”

He blinked again and sighed. He was really out of it today. “Yeah.”

“Where did you go just then?”

He had nothing to say to that. Not a single thing. So he shrugged and flipped his knife out of its sheath, watched the blade glint in the summer sun. “Just thinking. It's b-b-been a long d-d-ay.” He stabbed the knife hard into the dirt beside him, ground it in, twisted and turned it deep into the earth and suddenly she knew what had happened to his hand. The story had written itself in the displaced grains of earth and rock beside him, in the way his lips set in a grim line, the deep crease between his brows.

A motor boat sped by far too close to shore. Teenagers, Jess knew. No adult would dare speed so close to where children swam, but kids...especially kids with access to beer and joints, they didn't give much thought to small children. Might as well be on a different planet. They would skid their boats into the reeds to make out, skinny dip, smoke. Jess didn't consider any of them friends but she was no stranger to boat hopping for a good time...drunk teenagers were friendly and generous. And when one of them got a little handsy, she had no problem wandering off into the reeds and finding her own way home. Summer was an adventure, she figured. But this summer she didn't want that adventure, she'd had plenty of it. This summer she wanted to soak up something a little slower, a little more sober, a lot less reckless. She had adulthood to think about this summer.

Waves cascaded toward the shore and smacked into Sean's little body, must to his delight. He started out trying to jump them, the smaller ones, one and then the other. He would crouch, watch the wave swell and then leap out of the water like a frog. The splash down was his favorite part. It never occurred to him that the waves could gather enough strength to knock him down...until he was tumbling beneath the water, tangling in seaweed and reeds. The more he thrashed about, the further the waves carried him back out, the tighter the grip of the reeds.

Hotch felt the moment the sun went out. His skin freckled with cold and the storm crackled beneath his surface. He held his breath and tried to stand but he couldn't move quickly enough. By the time he was even halfway upright, Sean was further into the lake, far beyond where he could touch the bottom and he was screaming for help. Gargling bitter water, spitting his brother's name through choking sobs. Cold panic crept into Hotch and this time he was lumbering toward the water as fast as his aching and stiff back would allow, grunting curse words under his breath at his inability to do this one simple thing.

Jess was ahead of him in an instant. She was kicking up sand as she tore along the beach, rushing into the surf and diving when she'd gone far enough. Then they were both under water and Hotch was alone with the waves lapping against the shore and the rustle of the fucking cat tails beside him. They were whispering to him, some desperately sick mockery in their tone. We bested you once, they seemed to say, and now we've got you again. Won't you ever learn?

Breathless seconds turned into what felt like muddy hours and he inched toward the water line, ready to crash his way in after them, knowing he shouldn't but also that he couldn't wait any longer. By the time he was fighting his way through the waves on legs threatening to give way, the breath had left his lungs completely and the entire world had gone cold. Without Sean there was no sun.

Finally, a burst. Bright and blinding, Jessica and Sean crashed through the surface, him clinging hard to her neck. A choking sound erupted first, and lake water splattered against her cheek before his screams began. Like a firework, first you see the light, then you hear the boom. But the sun was shining again, and Hotch rushed toward them without a care for his own limitations.

“You're okay,” she whispered into his ear, teeth chattering in unison with his. “Your'e okay, I've got you.” Her voice calmed him quickly and he nodded, terrified blue eyes locking desperate and scared with hers. For a moment, she was the only person in the entire world and she hugged him a little tighter to prove to him that he wasn't going anywhere without her.

“Is he okay?” Hotch gasped, reaching for his brother with trembling hands. She waited a moment, until she thought it was a good idea, and then pried Sean away from her neck and pushed him into Hotch's arms. Stepping back, giving them some distance, she watched the two of them wrap around each other, Hotch burying his nose in Sean's cold neck. Slowly he turned his eyes to Jess and saw her glowing through the filter of Sean's golden wet hair. She was wringing out her curls, keeping her hands busy and he could almost see her heart thundering in its cage. Shrinking under the intense scrutiny, she realized that he was looking at her in a way he's never looked at her before...and without wanting to dive too deep into what it meant, she realized she was doing the same thing right back at him. Something had changed between them, something that she wished felt like shimmering light but was really just a tightening noose.

“Let's go to my dad's store,” she said, breaking through the silence. “He's got hot cocoa. You want some cocoa Sean?” What she didn't want to say was that they couldn't go home like this, Hotch would get the licking of a lifetime and they both knew it. They had to play damage control, give Sean a few more stories to tell so maybe his brush with death wasn't the first thing that exploded out of his mouth when his parents got home. Sean's enthusiasm for Mr. Brooks' store, his cocoa on tap and his penny candy jars...it was better than any amusement park he could dream up.

The story about their time at the lake, about Sean's near drowning, distracted Roy from Hotch's hand. Jess was weaving a careful web here, not lies but definitely straying as far as she could from the truth of any one situation long enough that they might be able to bury it beneath the simplicity of kids being kids on summer vacation. “Always getting into trouble,” Roy said with a soft smile, pouring three tin mugs of hot cocoa. Extra marshmallows for Sean, army issue wool blankets for all three of them to warm up in. The store was chilly, air conditioning on full blast. He didn't bother telling them about the mistakes they made, he just said so quietly that he was glad they were okay and that he'd be happy to drive them home if they could wait another half hour until closing time. Hotch didn't think he should, but he didn't have much recourse, he was along for the ride. He'd have to go back with Jess for their bikes later, and he'd really be skinned if someone stole his bike, but it was a chance he'd have to take for now.

It was opening the car door that made Roy flinch. He'd heard plenty of Haley's moaning about Hotch's back, he was familiar with the tall tale of how that one had happened...not sure he really believed it but he wouldn't have said anything, the kid seemed stiff but more or less fine. But that hand, that bruise mottled hand, it was fresh, and he couldn't ignore that. “What's that?”

“Nothing, sir,” was Hotch's immediate reply. Roy frowned.

“Don't lie to me, Aaron. You and I, we've always told each other the truth right? I told you right away, we're good if you don't try to bullshit me...” The lecture was exactly the opposite of what Hotch needed, it was too much information for his already foggy brain and words escaped him. Roy's frown deepened, like he thought Hotch was trying to come up with a bigger lie. A canyon was forming between them.

“I h-h-hit the wall,” he muttered, biting hard into his lip as he stumbled over words. Roy watched him clench his fist and thought he understood the rest, he'd been an angry teenage boy a long time ago but that feeling never really left you. The memory lived there, dormant and waiting. He'd like to see how well he remembered his own fists when he thought about the elder Hotchner, so he ceased the inquisition and put his hand on the boy's shoulder instead. A light squeeze, a peace offering, closing the gap again. This kid couldn't afford a canyon. The car ride itself was quiet, and Sean was nearly asleep by the time they'd gone up the dirt road to the Hotchner house. Hotch squirmed out of his seat first, unbuckling Sean and pulling him out after.

“Jessie,” Roy asked, grabbing his daughter quickly before she could vanish into the Hotchner house. He held her back and lowered his voice. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied with a quick nod. She wouldn't betray him, even if every single fiber of her being wanted to. “Had a rough day. He'll be okay.”

“That sonofabitch...”

“No, daddy. I believe him this time.” Roy regarded her suspiciously and sighed. She'd always believe Hotch, he knew that. She'd give him the benefit of the doubt forever or hold up whatever lie he thought he needed to tell to protect himself if nothing else worked. With some strange future perfect sight, a shockingly brief clarity, he knew Haley was going to marry this kid. They would be bound together forever, and it wasn't going to be sweet bliss...of that he was certain.

Jess ran to catch up to them, bounding up the steps behind Hotch and Sean quickly. “Hey! I'm gonna run back to the lake to get my bike, then I'll go and get yours. If it's still there.” Hotch rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Thanks Jess,” was what he said, effortlessly and without stumbling over her name. She calmed the storm in his brain. It was probably about the bike because that was the easy thing to thank her for, but really it was so much more. It was for coming to the office and pulling him out of his funk, for waiting in the stairwell for him even after he pushed her away, for lying to his dad and shaking his hand anyway, for saving Sean's life, for the cocoa. He watched her crouch and wrap Sean in a hug, whispering something secret and funny into his ear before pulling away and looking at him seriously. She was on her knees, eye to eye with him, and watching felt suddenly like intruding.

“Don't you scare me like that again, you hear me?” And then her arms were around him again, tighter this time. There was a desperation there that made Hotch squirm, and Sean seemed to sense it and tried to pull away. Big emotions frightened him and this hug felt huge.

“You're hugging me too tight...”

[notsowrites]

You Should Know It’s True

(3x10 Malex Coda #1)

I am just. That episode. I loved it so much! So have some soft Malex with... some plot. I guess? It had to be done.

(Also on AO3)

<3

--------

A knock at the door startles Michael awake.

Slowly, he comes to, remembering everything about the night before. Alex is still asleep, face pressed into his neck, body curled up around his. They'd eventually moved from the couch to the bedroom, smiling and laughing and kissing the entire time. Michael had declared, as he carried Alex bridal-style into the bedroom, that one day they were going to have sex in every room of the house. But for tonight, he just wanted to lose himself in Alex, nothing else.

Alex had been right. He couldn't keep running from his past, and needed to start facing it head on. And going to Dallas, and talking to him, telling him about his childhood - the memories were still painful to think about. A faint scar still remained on his skin from where he'd long ago had the white hot crucifix pressed to his skin, a reminder. And maybe Dallas didn't have that upbringing, maybe things had been different for him. But one thing Michael had learned last night was just because they'd been different didn't mean they'd been easier.

He presses a kiss to the top of Alex's head, snuggling in closer for a moment before the banging at the door starts up again.

"Is that-" Alex groans into his chest. "Is someone at the door?"

Michael sighs. Maybe it was too much to ask for an uninterrupted evening and morning.

"I'll look."

Their clothes are in the living room, and even though it looks like it'd been fast, and rushed, and desperate - Michael takes a moment to remind himself it was none of those things. They'd undressed one another, piece by piece, taking their time. Kissing as they removed clothing, and letting it fall to the floor in a pile around the coffee table. Michael had waited, lips pressed gently to Alex's shoulder, as he watched him remove his prosthetic, carefully setting it aside before turning back towards him, letting Michael guide him down onto the sofa cushions.

He grabs his pants, the belt buckle glistening in the morning sun, slipping them on as he heads down the hallway towards the front door.

The knocking starts up again, and Michael shakes his head. "Yeah yeah, I know."

Max is standing on the other side, and he looks rough.

"Max? What are you doing-"

"Jones has Liz."

No warning, no good morning. Right to business. And for once, Michael feels himself deflate instead of getting angry that Max woke him up, that Max interrupted his morning. Because if it was Alex? Michael knows he'd act the same way.

He had acted the same way when Alex had gone missing. Though maybe in some ways, he'd been worse.

"What happened?"

"I let him - he got one up on me, Michael." Max shifts uncomfortably on his feet. "I tried to call you last night-"

Michael smiles, because how can he not? He knows the seriousness of Jones having Liz, and they will find her. But even thinking about last night, about the way it'd felt with Alex even after all this time - different and yet still exactly the same - is enough to make his heart dance in his chest with happiness. He'd seen his cell phone on the coffee table, but hadn't even thought to check it for messages. It hadn't been anything of a priority last night. 

"Sorry, Max."

His brother shakes his head, studying him for a moment. "You're happy."

Michael nods. "I am."

"I'm gonna go track down Isobel, but I'm happy for you." Max claps him on the shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "I'll call you later."

He watches Max take a couple steps back, walking across the terrace. "Max!"

Max stops, and turns around, and in the morning sunlight, out from under the awning of the front door, Michael can see just how tired Max looks. The darkness of the skin under his eyes, the deflated look on his face. 

"We'll find her."

He stands in the open doorway, and watches Max get in his car and leave. It's as Max's Jeep is pulling out of the driveway, and Michael is waving him off, he feels a set of familiar arms wrap around him from behind, Alex's nose pressed to the back of his neck.

"Is Max okay?"

Michael spins around slowly, feeling Alex adjust so his hands are settled on his hips, and Michael reaches up and takes Alex's face in his hands. He takes a moment to just look, to appreciate that he has Alex, that Alex is here and safe with him. 

He doesn't know how to put it into words, how right everything else feels. How it felt to finally understand what having a triad meant, and in accepting it, a feeling of completeness had come over him. Family. And that in finding that, he also had Alex, and their own connection, which he still failed to be able to put into words.

Cosmic.

"Jones has Liz." They have a lot to do, and Liz is also one of Alex's best friends. "Something must have happened last night-"

Alex doesn't let him finish, pushing forward and kissing him, pressing their foreheads together. Michael feels Alex's hands tighten on his hips, gently pulling them together.

"I know you're thinking about last year," Alex says in the space between them. "And Jones won't hurt Liz. We know that. He needs her too much."

Michael pushes forward easily. "No one hurt you either, and I still-" He thinks of finding the napkin, attacking Jesse and Flint Manes, and finding Alex handcuffed to a radiator. "I didn't even stop, Alex. All I could think about was finding you, and making sure you were okay. I needed to make sure you were okay."

"I know."

"So I know what Max is feeling right now."

Alex nods, pressing another kiss to his lips. "But you're not any good to Max, or Liz, by being rash. We'll find out what happened, and we'll make a plan."

Michael smiles again, thinking of just days earlier, Alex marching up to him, demanding to work together to retrieve Jones' pod, and to plan the mission. The way Alex had used his hacking skills to find Max's Jeep, and the location where Jones was hiding out. And he's seen Alex meticulously plan an extraction, how well executed it had been until that moment they hadn't anticipated when Jones came back to reality. 

He trusts Alex to do it again.

"Okay," Michael agrees, leaning in and kissing him again. Still marveling that he can do this, he can have this. That he's here with Alex, and it feels right and it feels perfect. "But first I want to make you breakfast."

Alex smiles against his lips, the faintest press of their lips together.

"Michael Guerin cooks?"

Michael laughs, pulling back enough to be able to look at Alex. He's never had a morning with Alex before, not like this. It makes him realize this is something of a new beginning for them, much like everything the last couple days has been. "I hope you like omelettes."

[adiwriting]

So I had big plans of finishing my next smutty installment to the Alex Manes is a Bad Boyfriend (but a Phenomenal Husband) series in time for Malex Week Day 4: Smut Day... But it's been a DAY and I'm already 10k into this fic and there's no end in sight. So rather than post the entire thing like planned... I'm gonna post about 3k of one of the smutty parts as a tease and will post the entire thing to AO3 when it's done.

Warnings for sexting and infidelity

****

Alex Manes is a Horribly Boyfriend (excerpt)

He pushes his way past a sea of sequins and glitter that just remind him how much this isn’t his scene and finally manages to make his way to the bathroom. The moment he’s in a stall with the door locked behind him, he pulls his phone out of his pocket to see that he’s missed 12 texts from Michael.

He’s such a fucking menace, Alex thinks to himself as he smiles and opens up the string of missed texts.

Michael 8:43pm: Sad we didn’t get to watch the sunset together, but Maria says you’re coming out tonight. Can’t wait 😉

Michael 8:43pm: And if you’re wondering… I wore that white sweater you’re so fond of.

Michael 8:44pm: Kind of hoping you’ll destroy it. Make a real mess… It’s been too long.

Michael 8:49pm: [Image attached]

Michael 8:49pm: Figured I’d give you a little preview.

The picture of Michael is good. He looks as sexy as he ever has, possibly even more. Alex’s eyes roam over the scruff that’s getting longer, promising some pleasurable beard burn in his future. His curls are also longer than usual, falling into his face and begging to be fisted as Alex directs those sinful lips of his to his dick.

Fuck, Alex is already getting hard as his eyes fall to Michael’s, that are nearly black with lust. Michael’s not wrong either about the effect that white sweater always has when he notices the background.

Alex zooms in on the photo to find a rather large dildo sitting on his bed next to a bottle of lube and some used tissues that leaves little to the imagination. Alex bites his lip to hold back a moan even as his heart clinches in longing. While Alex had been stuck with Forrest all afternoon, he’d missed out on an opportunity to be the one to bring Michael to orgasm.

Pictures like this were fun when he was on the road and couldn’t have Michael. The way Michael would tease him with detailed texts and pictures or the occasional video, discussing how he always jerked himself off to thoughts of Alex? It was intoxicating. And Alex was always sure to reward Michael with pictures of his own. But Alex isn’t on the other side of the country anymore and this isn’t fun. This hurts.

Alex is right here in Roswell and that orgasm was supposed to be Alex’s. It would have been Alex’s if only Forrest had stuck to the original plan to meet up with Alex at the Pony when he got off work.

Alex looks back down at the picture and tries to push down his anger at Forrest and focus instead on how sexy Michael looks. After all, Alex is back for good and he and Michael have all the time in the world. Their orgasms don’t have to be rushed anymore. There’s nothing hanging over their heads anymore. No Jesse Manes to look out for. No Project Shepherd to fear. No more deployments in his future. They have time.

Michael 9:12pm: Where are you? Maria said you were supposed to get here by 8?

Michael 9:15pm: I want you to drag me into the bathroom and fuck me over the sink the moment you get here. Fuck whatever polite small talk you’re going to be obligated to participate in. Just fuck me as hard and fast as you can. I need you…

Michael 9:15pm: I’ve already prepped myself and everything 😏

Alex’s pants grow impossibly tighter as he imagines doing just that. Walking through the door and dragging Michael directly into the bathroom with barely more than a hello to their friends. Pulling Michael’s pants down, bending him over the sink, and burying himself into that beautiful ass of Michael’s that was made just for Alex.

Fuck, he wants that so badly.

Michael 9:17pm: God, I’ve been thinking about that big cock of yours all day. I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from dropping to my knees and blowing you right here in the open for all to see…

Michael 9:18pm: I bet your boyfriend wouldn’t like that too much now would he?

Michael 9:19pm: Does he know how to blow you like I do? Does he get you off like I do? I bet he doesn’t…

Michael is right, Forrest doesn’t. He tries, but it’s hardly Forrest’s fault. Alex isn’t sure that there is a human alive that could give a blow job as well as Michael Guerin. Alex is convinced it’s a uniquely alien thing. Or perhaps even just a uniquely Michael thing. And god, does Alex want Michael’s lips around his dick tonight. He closes his eyes and pictures Michael on his knees in front of him, blowing him in the bathroom… His boyfriend on the other side of this bathroom wall, completely oblivious.

There’s something dangerous about it that Alex finds thrilling.

He unzips his pants in an attempt to find some relief as his dick grows completely hard thinking about Michael sitting there prepped and ready. His ass open and wet, waiting for Alex’s dick to slide easily inside. Alex reaches down to touch himself as he wonders if Michael is wearing those jeans of his with the indecent hole in the inner thigh that grows larger and larger every time he wears them. Last time Alex had seen them, when he’d stopped by after the funeral, the hole had been large enough for Alex to slip two fingers through it and find their way to Michael’s hole.

Alex bites back a moan and squeezes his dick tight at the memory, not wanting to get caught jerking off in the bathroom. Though he’s sure Planet 7 has seen way worse. Alex wonders if Michael even bothered with underwear today. He so rarely does.

His phone pings with a text and he looks down at his phone to see he has another message from Michael.

Michael 9:30pm: Okay, all jokes aside. Where are you? You’re making me worried.

Alex rolls his eyes, but not at Michael. If anything, Michael’s worry warms his heart… Which he tries not to read too much into because just last week a similar text from Forrest had about driven Alex up a wall. No, he’s not frustrated with Michael. He’s frustrated that he’s not at the Pony right now drinking with his friends and making plans to fuck Michael in the bathroom.

Alex presses the call button and brings his phone to his ear as his hand continues to pump himself in an attempt to tame the intense need he’s feeling.

“Hey, where are you? We’re getting worried. Maria’s about to send out a search party,” is the first thing Michael says when he picks up.

Alex sighs deeply. “I’m at Planet 7.”

Michael doesn’t respond right away. He listens for a minute or two as the sound of live music and drinking shenanigans fades into the background.

“You sound miserable,” Michael says, his tone changing in a way that tells Alex that Michael is alone, away from listening ears. There’s a softness — something unguarded and open — that only ever comes into Michael’s voice when they are in private spaces.

God, Alex loves that voice. His heart pulls painfully, demanding him to go seek it out. Needing to be wherever Michael is.

“I am miserable,” he admits.

God, he’s such a horrible boyfriend.

“Let me guess, it was Forrest’s idea?” Michael asks and when Alex doesn’t respond, Michael continues. “Well you can’t stay there all night. You haven’t seen any of us in months. Maria and Liz are demanding your attention.”

“Just Maria and Liz?” he asks, teasingly, his hand still pumping his dick though it’s lost its purpose. His need is still there but it’s more of an afterthought. Something simmering in the background.

“I’m pretty sure my demand for your attention has already been made obvious. Or did you not open my Snapchat?” Michael says, his voice dropping a whole octave, causing Alex’s dick to twitch with renewed interest.

Alex groans. He didn’t even check his Snapchat. But considering how explicit Michael’s texts tonight had been, Alex can only imagine how filthy the snap will be.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do to you?” Alex says. Michael lets out a moan and Alex’s hand fists tighter around his own dick. “Tell me what you were thinking about when you used that dildo of yours today to come all over your bed.”

“Saw that did you?” Michael asks and Alex can’t help but chuckle.

“You had to know I would,” he says. “I should punish you for starting without me.”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you’d have let me drive you out to the desert like we planned,” Michael says, and though there is teasing in his voice, Alex can also hear the disappointment there. He’s about to apologize again, but Michael doesn’t give him the chance. “Tell me, did he fuck you?”

“What?” he asks, a bit taken back by the question.

“Your little boyfriend. When he picked you up, did he fuck you? Was it hard and fast like you like? Did he make you come until you cried? Was it good?” Michael asks, and while there’s no bite to his words, Alex feels every one like a stab to the heart.

“It’s not like that with him,” he admits, a bit embarrassed to do so.

Michael is quiet for a long moment. Long enough that Alex starts to grow uncomfortable and pulls his hands out of his pants, wiping off the bit of precome there on some toilet paper.

“I thought that’s what you liked,” Michael says, sounding insecure.

“It is,” he rushes to clarify, because he doesn’t want Michael to think that the desperate way they are together isn’t exactly what gets Alex off. “Trust me, I’d have rather been with you.”

He can hear Michael suck in a breath before he says. “That bad?”

Alex is about to say yes. His first instinct is to complain about how awful sex with Forrest has become, but he stops himself. Forrest isn’t bad in bed. He’s an incredibly attentive lover. He’ll spend hours kissing and touching Alex softly, almost reverently. He’s regularly asking if things are good for Alex and if he likes what Forrest is doing. He makes sure that Alex gets off every single time they are together. In terms of bed partners, Alex has had way worse than Forrest Long.

Alex isn’t sure what’s wrong with him. When Forrest had taken him home this afternoon, he’d been incredibly sweet. He’d undressed Alex slowly, kissing every last glimpse of bare skin. He’d been so attentive, lavishing Alex with praises. And sure, when Alex had rolled Forrest onto his stomach, Forrest had sat up and given him a confused, “What are you doing?” that had been more than a little frustrating. In fact, it had made him feel dirty and wrong for wanting something a little less vanilla. That’s how Forrest makes him feel a lot these days… Wrong.

But Forrest had made up for that hadn’t he? Hadn’t he taken his time really opening Alex up? Hadn’t he slowly thrust into him while reminding Alex of how deeply he was missed. Of how much he was loved? And when Forrest had come and Alex wasn’t even close, hadn’t Forrest rolled him over onto his back and given him a blow job for close to forty mintues before Alex had come?

Doesn’t it make him a horrible boyfriend to not appreciate that kind of adoration? That level of attention?

God, Alex is an asshole for even considering telling Michael that Forrest isn’t a good lover.

But Alex has always been a bit of an asshole, and Michael knows as much. Alex doesn’t have to pretend to be anything he’s not around Michael and that’s freeing.

It’s why Michael knows that Alex doesn’t want sweet. He wants complete desire. He wants pure lust. He wants somebody to rip his clothes off because unbuttoning them will take too long. He wants somebody to devour him. He wants somebody that’s going to try and infuse themselves into his skin. He wants to be left with handshape bruises on his hips and bite marks on his ass. He wants somebody that’s going to pull his hair and demand to be fucked harder. He wants desperation. He wants need. He wants his skin set on fire and his orgasm to be an exaltation.

He wants to feel like he is the answer to his partner’s every prayer. He wants trust and control while at the same time he wants to experience complete abandon.

He wants Michael.

“Not everyone can be Michael Guerin,” Alex says, the words leaving his mouth effortlessly without him even thinking about what he’s saying. They are the truth… But perhaps that doesn’t make them fair.

“Alex…” Michael doesn’t finish that thought, and Alex isn’t sure that he wants him to. Not when he knows exactly what Michael wants to say. What Michael always wants to say but never does.

This thing Alex is doing? It’s selfish and it’s not fair to anyone.

For months, he’s been giving excuses as to why he stays with Forrest. But at the end of the day, that’s all they are. Excuses. The real reason that Alex is with Forrest is that Alex knows he’s destined to break everything he touches, and breaking Forrest seems like a far better option than breaking Michael. There’s less risk in dating Forrest. Less to lose when he eventually fucks it all up.

But now that he’s home and there’s no longer thousands of miles between himself and his bad decisions, Alex is starting to realize what an idiot he is. Because this thing he’s been doing with Michael? It hasn’t been without risk. Alex isn’t oblivious. He knows that it hurts Michael that Alex is still with Forrest. He doesn’t have to say it for Alex to see it’s true. It was just easier to pretend he could have Michael without consequence.

But the truth is this:

Alex Manes is and always will be a horrible boyfriend. And Michael Guerin deserves better than that.

But Michael also deserves better than being treated like some fucktoy Alex only keeps around for the orgasm. Alex knows that. But he’s never been able to step away from Michael, not completely. How is he supposed to resist those eyes? Those lips? Those curls? Those damn one-liners?

Fuck.

Out on the road, it had been easier. Out on the road, all he had to offer were phone calls and text messages. And when they were separated by so much distance, that was more than acceptable. But now that Alex is home? Michael is going to want more. He deserves more… And Alex has no idea how to give him that.

Forrest was supposed to be his practice. Alex was supposed to learn how to be the good, doting boyfriend from dating Forrest. But that hardly panned out the way he planned.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually says and he can hear the disappointed sigh Michael lets out at the words.

“Hey, it is what it is, right?” Michael says.

“You know I’d rather be at the Pony,” he says.

“Nah, Planet 7 isn’t so bad,” Michael says. “The bartender is hot and if you tip well, he’s got a healthy pour. Plus, the bathroom stalls accommodate two people way more comfortably.”

“Do I wanna know how you know that?” he asks and Michael just laughs, the serious mood from earlier thankfully gone for the moment.

“All I’ll say is that I look damn good in glitter and clean up well when I want to,” Michael says and Alex can picture it. Michael with his disregard for buttons, glitter covering his chest, the light hitting him just so… He’s sure Michael has guys eating out of the palm of his hand… Among other things.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, feeling a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t around to see it. That things couldn’t be different for them. Alex has a feeling that he wouldn’t mind Planet 7 so much with Michael at his side.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Michael says. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to gather everyone and we’re gonna come to you.”

“You don’t have to—” he starts to protest, but Michael cuts him off.

“Nope. We can’t have a welcome home party without our guest of honor. We’re coming to you. Maria has plenty of staff tonight, she can afford to take the night. We’ll see you in a bit,” Michael says.

Alex knows he should argue, but he can’t lie, the idea of seeing his friends does make his heart feel a little lighter.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Always,” Michael says with a level of sincerity that almost brings tears to Alex’s eyes. He’s saved from having to find an acceptable response to such a heavy declaration when Michael clears his throat and adds a teasing, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the glitter.”

Alex can’t help but laugh. “I’m fully prepared.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that. But I know the bathroom leaves packets of lube out so we can make sure you are,” he says. It’s over the top and from any other guy, it would be obnoxious and too much. But Michael isn’t just any guy and from him, it’s just right. Just enough to make him laugh and lift his spirits.

Knowing Michael, along with his other friends, will be here soon helps ease the anger and frustration that’s been growing in his heart.

“See you soon,” Alex says with a smile and waits for Michael’s, “Can’t wait,” before hanging up.

Before Alex does anything else, he opens up his Snapchat to find a missed video from Michael. Turning the volume down low, he plays the video and instantly, he’s met with the sweat soaked, well-fucked image of Michael close to orgasm. The camera is trained on his face, but the angle is such that he’s clearly using his powers to take the video. He’s moaning as he stares right into the camera and Alex wishes he could turn the volume up to hear him better.

Already his dick is starting to fill again with need.

As the camera pans out, he can see that Michael is on his knees, one hand firmly on the headboard while the other is wrapped around his dick. An invisible force is fucking that dildo into him with a relentless pace and Alex bites both of his lips to keep from crying out. The video is practically obscene, but Alex loves it.

He can just barely hear Michael crying out, “Fuck me! God, Alex, fuck me harder.”

And all Alex can do is start to pump his own hand in pace with Michael, imagining that he’s there, thrusting into Michael with complete abandon.

And then the video ends with Michael coming, painting his sheets with strips of white that Alex wishes he could swallow down.

It’s not enough. His own dick throbs with need and Alex continues to pump himself rough and wild, chasing after orgasm. With one hand, he pulls down his menu screen and does a screen recording so he can rewatch this video to his heart’s content. He knows Michael will see that he’s saved the video, but he doesn’t care. Michael had to know that wasn’t the kind of thing he could watch only once.

Moments later, he gets another Snapchat message from Michael that simply says, ‘Thought you’d enjoy that video 🤤 That orgasm should’ve been yours.’

Alex takes a quick picture of himself, sure that’s he makes quite the sight with his dick out and slick with precome in the middle of a public bathroom and his eyes blown wide with lust.

Michaels response is instant. ‘Don’t you dare come without me. I’m 15 minutes away.’