#shauna's roswell fic

[some-mad-lunge]

A Wondrous Place

Look sometimes you’re cooking and you start to hum a Disney song and somehow that leads to a fic idea as you stir the chili. Yeah I don’t get it either.

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

There is so much still of Alex he doesn’t know. The big things of course, his light and his soul, his courage and kindness. Those Michael can’t imagine a world without. But to love someone endlessly doesn’t mean you know their favourite movie, or how they take their coffee. The way they scrap their plate with the side of their fork or if they leave their damp towel on the floor. He learns new things everyday, little by little, moments he locks away. Added brushstrokes to the painting of Alex that hangs inside the cavern of his heart. A masterpiece really. Michael has never appreciated art but the man he loves could never be anything less.

Alex is folding laundry, worn sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the muscles of his back moving in a dance of their own. But Michael can hear him humming, a tune that sounds oddly familiar. He can’t place it, it edges in his mind and he can’t help but hum along.

Alex turns to look at him, that half smile that makes Michael’s fingers almost slip from the bottle he holds. It stops his breath every time.

“I never took you for a Disney fan.” There’s a tease in Alex’s voice, soft with no hint of sarcasm. Alex wants to know every part of Michael too, and for a moment he wonders what his portrait looks like. What colours Alex has used to create Michael.

“Is that what it is?” He still doesn’t know the song but he hums a few more bars almost without thinking.

“A Whole New World. From Aladdin.” Alex looks at him like everyone knows, probably because everyone does.

Michael scoffs at that. His childhood was not one of Disney dreams, Even still, between foster parents he’d seen the movies. One group home didn’t have cable, only an old broken VHS player and ancient tapes to go along with it. He’d fixed the player easily, he’d been 12 and machines had always been his thing. He regretted it though when for three months a girl that lived there insisted on watching Aladdin every single day. Then one morning she was just gone and for a brief moment he wondered where she’d ended up. He had a flash of red hair, but her face he couldn’t picture.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

Michael blinks and somehow Alex is in front of him, concern etched in the set of that gorgeous face. He lets Alex’s hands hold his waist, fingers digging into his shirt as they tug him closer.

He’s so good at that, opening the door for Michael to share if he wants to, if he needs it. But they’ve had a relaxing weekend, and he doesn’t want the past to taint that right now.

“Just imagining us on a magic carpet ride.” He puts the bottle down on the counter, let’s his hands rest on bare shoulders.

Alex chuckles, allows Michael to shake off the past for something better.

“Let me guess, you’re the Aladdin in this situation?” 

“Obviously.” Michael squeezes the back of Alex’s neck to bring him closer.

“Fine, but only because Jasmine was hair goals.” 

“Darlin’, we both know who has the better hair in this relationship.”

Alex responds by pressing his lips to the corner of Michael’s mouth, sliding their noses together. They stay like that for a second, breathe each other in. He mourns a little when Alex pulls back to look at him fully.

“If we’re being completely honest then you’re 100% the Genie. Phenomenal cosmic powers…”

“Itty bitty living space.”

Alex’s beaming smile when they say the last line together is a memory Michael wants to have forever. It’s a splash of bright sunshine yellow that brightens the dark, another brushstroke.

“My trailer’s not that bad.” It is but Michael will never admit it. Or the fact that he basically lives with Alex anyway so it’s a non issue.

“I was talking about your pod.” 

The laugh bursts out of Michael unexpectedly, he feels it in his chest, the lightness is being seen. Of being honest. Of being accepted exactly as he is.

Alex’s eyes are mystified and Michael knows in that moment he’s added another colour to his own portrait. He wonders if he’ll ever tire of knowing he is loved like that, more than he can fathom.

Instead Michael pulls him closer, cheek to cheek. Alex hums again and together they sway. He hears the words, closes his eyes against them and everything they make him feel. More strokes, more colour.

“For you and me...”

[some-mad-lunge]

What Might Have Been - Malex Fic

Alex leaves Roswell the day after his and Michael’s almost kiss. He comes back for his high school reunion and realizes some things never change, like the way a certain curly haired boy makes him feel. (Malex AU)

This is for @fraudulentzodiacs​ to make her smile. You are loved darling.

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

You can’t go home again, isn’t that what they say? What they should say is don’t go home again. Alex Manes had made that vital mistake, gone home and he regretted it. Why? Because he was sitting in a rented luxury SUV, AC running as he tried to pump himself up enough to get out of the damn car.

He’d had his reasons for wanting to show up his 10 year high school reunion but he couldn’t remember them right now.

Well two reasons actually, only two and he did remember them.

First, to throw a John Hughes style middle finger to the four years of hell he’d had within those walls and the people who’d made it that way.

The second? To lay eyes one more time on the boy that was the only reason those same years were even slightly bearable.

Alex wasn’t usually nostalgic, which was ironic given that he was a songwriter. He was paid large amounts of money to make melodies and prose into art, to make people feel something. It didn’t mean he always saw the beauty in the sunset or in the healing of a broken heart. It didn’t mean he looked backwards at all. He normally avoided it at all costs.

It just happened that his invitation to the reunion had arrived less than 48 hours after his interview with Rolling Stone. He’d been picked, along with nine other songwriters, to be a part of their “Voices Of A Generation” issue. It was a tremendous honour and a validation he’d never known he’d needed until he had it.

It didn’t matter that he had two Grammy’s, countless other awards and chart topping hits. It didn’t matter that he had Beyoncé’s and Taylor Swift’s personal numbers saved in his cell phone. It didn’t matter that he had a house in Malibu and an apartment in Manhattan. It didn’t matter what anyone in Roswell thought about him then or what they thought now, especially not Alex’s father.

No, what mattered was that he'd been chosen by Rolling Stone to represent the voice of the very people who had shunned him back in the day. They had tried to make him hate who he was and had failed miserably in their attempts.

Now they listened to his message, they sang along to his lyrics and that was a fuck you very much he wasn’t going to turn down delivering.

But none of it, not one single bit of it, would have been possible without Michael Guerin.

Alex could still remember it like it was yesterday, Michael’s lips, Michael’s eyes. Warm breath on Alex’s face and the moment of finally before it was gone and the soul crushing love of his life had pulled away before it could even begin. Instead it ended and so did any reason to hang on.

If that hadn’t happened Alex wouldn’t have packed his bags that night. He wouldn't have taken out all his savings, bought a bus ticket and gotten out of New Mexico before anyone knew he was gone. He wouldn’t have sat staring out the window as the dessert went by, not bothering to hide his tears as he wrote “Cosmic Love” in his spiral notebook.

It was a song about a love that you can run from but never leave behind. The kind of love that is everywhere and in everything, that sustains you just as much as it makes you bleed. A love that only two people could understand. The love Alex had always felt for Michael.

The lyrics had flowed out of him in one go, the notes he played the first time at a rest stop under a flickering light at 2:00am.

A song that less than a year later made the gay teenage outcast of Roswell a force to be reckoned with.

If Michael hadn’t taken away Alex’s only reason to stay, he never would have left. Alex felt like he owed Michael somehow for crushing his heart.

It hadn’t been that easy of course, but for once luck had been on Alex’s side. Los Angeles had been the escape he’d always dreamed of. He met people like himself, the outcasts, the freaks and the artists. He’d met boys, and men, unashamed to look him up and down, desire him. He’d been allowed to kiss in coffee shops and hold someone’s hand at the beach. He’d sat in the sand and played his guitar in between shifts at the souvenir kiosk where he’d gotten a job.

He’d been in LA six months when he’d met Jason. Alex strummed his guitar, black polish chipping off his nails, hard cement of the boardwalk under him. Jason, who had a voice like honey, sat beside him out of the blue one day and started singing along. Jason, who instantly became his best friend, and then shortly after became Jason Rast.

Cosmic Love had been Jason’s first single off his debut album, and it changed both of their lives.

Alex Manes might write the voice of a generation but Jason Rast sang it, gave it life. He was the epitome of a rock star with a heart of gold. Fame hadn’t changed him, or their friendship. Or how much he liked to text.

Jason - Have you seen him yet? Did he get fat? I bet he got fat.

Alex - I’m hiding in the parking lot.

Jason - You know you have two Grammy’s right? Fuck those people.

Alex - Why did I want to do this again?

Jason- Do you want me to send a jet to come get you? We could go to Vegas. Adam Levine is there, he always throws a good bender.

Alex - You hate Levine.

Jason - Everyone hates him. It’s like a rule.

Alex - No. I’m going to do this. I can do this.

Jason - MY MAN!

Jason - Let me know if he got fat.

Alex pulled himself out of the car, smoothed the front of his button down shirt. He could have gone full celebrity and worn something designer. That was probably what everyone was expecting of him but it didn’t mean that’s who Alex was. Sure his jeans were probably too expensive by most people’s standards but they made his ass look amazing. He did have to face the unrequited love of his life after all.

He walked through the parking lot filled with cars but void of people. He could hear the music coming from the open gym doors, the muffled voices of his past. The sun was starting to set, casting everything in moody pinks and reds.

For some reason he headed towards the football field. Not that Alex had ever played the sport or even gone to a game unless dragged there. No, he’d spent his time under the bleachers playing his guitar or smoking a cigarette when he should have been in class pretending anyone at home gave a shit about him.

Alex had perfected being moody and pissed about the unfairness of life as a teenager. It had been warranted but it was still a damn cliche.

He finally stopped with his hands in his pockets, took in the spot he’d sat with Maria or Liz, sometimes even Michael, but mostly alone. Just him and his guitar. This place seemed bigger back then, the whole world had.

“Looks exactly the same doesn’t it?” The voice from behind Alex didn’t make him jump, it never had. Instead it slide over him like a caress, heat and smoke, easy to fall into if he wanted. He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder.

Time had been good to Michael Guerin. Correction, time had been sucking Michael Guerin’s dick and thanking him for the pleasure. He looked like sex personified, low slung jeans and curls that Alex still wished he had felt against his fingers just one time.

Michael was a little older, a little rougher around the edges but he still made a shiver go up Alex’s spine. It was like being 18 all over again.

“Of all the things I expect to change in this world Roswell isn’t one of them.” Alex smiled through the words. It was Michael and even when breaking Alex’s heart he was still the best thing about this God awful town.

He got a grin back, Michael walking forward so Alex can meet him in the handshake/half hug that seems to be the straight man staple. He felt breath on his cheek for a second so it was worth it.

“I can’t believe you came.” Michael seemed genuinely happy to see Alex, which he had to admit surprised him.

“Me neither.” He’s a liar but no one needs to know that.

“FYI, Isobel has your Rolling Stones cover up on the “Alumni Wall Of Fame.” It’s right next to Marcus Boyle’s USDGC gold medal.”

“USDGC?”

“United States Disc Golf Championship.”

Alex can’t stop the punch of laughter that escapes. Michael always did that to him, made him feel without fear. Alex could laugh or he could cry but it was easy, and it was safe.

“Is the medal in the shape of a frisbee?” Alex can’t help but meet Michael’s eyes, fascinated that they are exactly the same as he remembers them. Exactly like he still dreamed about most nights.

“No, but now that I think about it that is clearly a gross oversight.”

They stand side by side, their snorts of laughter fading into comfortable silence. Their kind of comfortable, with a pop of electricity that snapped between them. Alex would never forget how devastated he’d been when he realized he was the only one that had ever felt it.

He kind of wants to go back in time and give 18 year old Alex a hug. At 28 he’s unsure how to handle this feeling, 10 years ago must have been terrifying. He doesn’t remember it that way. Michael had never scared him, Michael had fascinated him.

“Should we head in?” Alex turned to the gym, as ready as he’d ever be to face the masses, but a hand on his arm stopped him. The fingers are so hot Alex wasn’t sure how he didn’t catch on fire. He had to fight the part of him that just wanted to press those hands to his bare skin and burn alive.

“Or we could hide under the bleachers with the cooler of beer I put there just in case.” Michael’s smile is small, and if Alex has read it right, a little bit unsure. A peace offering? Which was ridiculous, it wasn’t Michael’s fault that he hadn’t felt the way Alex always did.

No, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that Alex had spent most of his life continuously falling for Michael Guerin.

Alex had been so heartbroken he hadn’t realized when he’d run away he wasn’t the only one who had lost something. Michael had been Alex’s ideal, but Alex had been Michael’s friend. One of the choice few. For a moment he was ashamed of himself. But Alex had done what he needed to do for his own survival back then. He shouldn’t regret it now, but seeing Michael’s face, a part of him did. Alex owed him, even if it would probably smash his heart all over again.

“Lead the way cowboy.”

They ducked under metal bars and squeezed through small openings to get to Alex’s favourite hideaway. It was perfectly hidden, right where two sets of bleachers met in a corner. There were two blankets and cooler with a black cowboy hat perched on top. As Michael sat Alex pulled out his phone, took a picture of the initials he’d scrawled in black sharpie back in the day.

AM WAS HERE/QUEER.

There’s other initials now, some with the same message as his. It makes him feel connected to the kids who came after. The ones who hid here just like he had. He wonders if he’d helped anyone feel less alone.

Alex suddenly feels suffocated by Michael’s gaze, like it’s running the length of him in a slow trail. He’s imagining it, he knows he is, but he lets himself.

Finally he sits across from Michael, his legs tucked as comfortably as he can on the blanket left for him. He gladly takes the beer bottle handed his way, sighs after a long sip.

“So Guerin, do anything interesting in the last 10 years?”

And yeah, Michael’s laugh still sends Alex’s stomach into somersaults. Some things just never changed.

*********

They’re three beers in, the initial awkwardness gone. Their legs are spread out in front of them, Alex is mesmerized by the warmth of Michael’s thigh against his calf. It makes him want what he can’t have, but it’s a feeling he’s used to.

Alex is surprised that Michael never left Roswell, never went to university like he planned. He’s cagey on the details so Alex doesn’t push. Guerin doesn’t seem unhappy but he’s also not content. There’s something missing in his life. Alex can tell. They were always the same, the two of them.

They keep it light and easy. Alex shares stories of LA and the lack of glamor. How he enjoys fame without actually being famous enough to be recognized on the street. He’ll be the first to admit his life isn’t as exciting as people think.

Michael catches him up on Roswell and how much everything is basically exactly the same.

“I was sad to find out the museum closed, I thought I would check and see if they had any new displays.” Alex meant it as a joke but he watches something akin to pain flash in Michael’s eyes. Maybe it’s the shadows from the flood lights, or maybe…

“Michael?!” Alex would know that voice anywhere, Isobel Evans on the warpath. The beer had made him loose, or maybe it’s the insanity of the situation but he can’t help himself. He starts to giggle.

Michael shushes him but it’s no use, Alex can hear the click of Isobel’s heels as they come closer. He can’t stop, he just keeps imaging the blonde princess’s face if she discovers them. That is until Michael reaches forward, one hand to the back of Alex neck and the other to cover his giggling mouth.

He freezes, because suddenly he’s overcome with the warmth surrounding him. The fizz in his stomach now a full blown tornado and the sensation of fingers softly digging into his skin. Michael’s eyes are locked with his, and the world just melts away. He doesn’t know if Isobel has left. He doesn’t know if he’s dreaming but he can’t help himself. That was always his problem. His heart has a mind of its own and it’s always said one thing over and over again.

Michael.

He does the most insane and yet natural thing before he can think better of it, and presses his lips to Michael’s palm in a soft kiss. He does it selfishly, for himself. So Alex can say once, just once, that he got to.

Michael’s eyes soften, his hand gone from Alex’s mouth. Instead it palms Alex’s cheek, a calloused thumb ghosting against his mouth. The moan it brings out of him, Alex would be ashamed of it wasn’t the most honest sound he’s ever made.

It’s there, that flash of heat in Michael’s eyes. The one Alex always thought he’d imagined. It’s real this time and it’s everything he remembers.

They meet in the middle, wet and open from the start. Michael’s tongue a direct shock to his dick, already hard and wanting. Alex wants to weep when he finally gets to slide his fingers into that hair, feel the curls catch and release. He tastes like beer and every good memory Alex ever had.

Michael’s hands are greedy and they’re everywhere. Alex feels the imprint of them long after they slide from his shoulders to his waist, a hard tug as they fist into his shirt. Somehow he’s dragged into Michael’s lap, the earth hard on his knees as he grinds down. It makes Alex whimper, he has to lose those lips to gasp for breath and hold on.

Michael’s arms are holding him so tight, a hand sliding up under his shirt, teeth scraping against his neck. It makes his hips move faster, chasing something he can’t even name. They’re rhythm and Michael’s quick movements are going to end him.

Warm lips drag a path to his ear, breath heavy and wanton. “Always knew it would be like this.”

It sends shockwaves through Alex, digs in deep, the reality that he hadn’t been the only one all those years ago. That he isn’t the only one currently drowning now.

“Michael…”

He’s grasped tighter, held fast and whatever he was about to say disappears. They’re lined up perfectly and Alex has never hated denim more in his life. He wants to slow this down, take his time. He wants to imprint everything to memory, horde it for the lonely nights that are sure to follow. Michael won’t let him, maybe he can’t. It doesn’t matter, not anymore.

Alex needs to kiss him again, so he does. They’re too out of breath, too keyed up. They’re just panting into each other’s mouths and lighting the world on fire. It’s all happening so fast, years of feeling focused into right here and right now.

He’s so close, he’s so fucking close to dying and he can’t get their soon enough. Michael bites Alex’s bottom lip, pain and pleasure and everything in between. He forces his gaze to stay on Michael’s face, that fierce look of possession mixed with awe. Every dream Alex ever had paled in comparison to the real thing.

“Come on baby. I’ve waited a decade for this, don’t deny me now.”

That’s all it takes, the demand in Michael’s words and what they really mean. It’s pulled out of Alex, like a gut punch of galaxies, the burn of the sun. He’s not alone, he feels all of it. Michael’s pleasure, his own eternity and bliss, quakes with it in every nerve ending.

Finally he floats back down, weightless and perfect. His arms still wrapped around Michael, his face pressed into soft flannel. He never wants to let go. Hands are still clutched into his skin. Unheard words are whispered into his shoulder. Alex just tries to relearn how to breathe.

It’s fingers on his face that finally has him moving again, their foreheads pressed together.

“What the fuck was that?” Alex kisses it into Michael’s mouth, in awe of how much he still wants him. How much he always has, how much he always will.

Michael pulls back, runs his thumbs over Alex’s cheeks. His eyes are bright and brilliant, his voice clearer than it has any right to be.

“Cosmic Love.”

Alex stills for a second, has to close his own eyes from what it makes him feel. He never thought Michael would know the song was about him. He should of, of course he should have, who else could it have ever been?

“I went looking for you the next day. Searched everywhere. If I could go back...” Michael’s looking at him like he used to, another thing Alex hadn’t imagined after all. “I knew you’d leave Alex, but you were always supposed to take me with you.”

Alex sees it all in Michael's eyes, all the loneliness and pain of the past reflected back at him. So much regret it breaks his heart all over again. Only this time, this time Alex gets to do it right.

“How quickly can you pack?” He means it, God does Alex mean it. Presses his lips all over Michael’s face, soft and sweet. Years of love he finally gets to show, to give to the boy who helped Alex survive. Now the man he still feels every bit of it for.

Michael stops his caresses, something shutters in his eyes and it hurts. Alex feels the world start to cave in. He tries to pull away, because he can’t lose this again. Not after what they just shared, he won’t survive it.

“No, don’t.” Michael holds fast, searches Alex’s face. “I just need to tell you something first. It might...it could change things.”

“It won’t.” Alex knows it couldn’t.

“Alex…”

He runs his fingers through curls, revels in finally being allowed to.

“I promise you, it won’t.”

They’re still pressed together under the bleachers when Alex learns the truth. It should shock him, it should scare him. It doesn’t, not even a little. He just listens and he believes and none of it matters.

It’s Michael and him, it’s them and what they’ve always been. It’s cosmic, and now Alex knows why.

[some-mad-lunge]

Interstellar Bitch

Because an Alex and Isobel friendship is on my must list for season 2.

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

Alex had always leaned more towards having women as friends, that is after Kyle had disowned him before high school. Suddenly he was without a best friend in the shark infested waters that was public education.. Thankfully Maria, with her kind heart and Liz with her keen eyes that missed nothing, welcomed him with open arms. He wasn’t as free spirited or as studious as either of them, but it worked. He never thought of it as a cliche, it was just nice. 

He grew up in a house that suffocated him with male testosterone. No one wanted to listen to his ideas or hear his music. No one wanted to know him. Honestly, Alex thought his Dad would like him more if he just whipped out his dick and measured it, gave him something tangible to prove his son was a Manes man.

Maria and Liz (and Michael), they’d been the bright spots in this town. The escape from home and the loneliness, the white noise that cancelled out the voice in his head that made sure he knew he’d never be good enough.

He’d left them behind but he’d never forgotten. Emails and texts, you grow up and people fall away. Overseas he learned how to be friends with men, not needing to posture up, to prove he could give a punch and absorb a hit to be taken seriously. Still he missed his companionship with women. He missed the warmth of Maria’s hug, Liz’s sharp tongue that never failed to make him laugh. The way he used to feel understood, at least a little, for the first time in his life.

Coming home to them (and Michael), it was as if nothing had changed. A decade didn’t dull who they’d been to each other. Alex didn’t know if it was them, or this town, but they were connected. They were family.

Or they had been, but now there was a space between them, and he couldn’t get past it. He’d lost all three of the people he’d love most in one fell swoop. He vaguely wondered if there was something poetic in that. He’d run away to learn to be himself and lost the people who accepted him wholly for who he was in the process.

Maybe it would be easier if there had been some big scene, angry words and spilled drinks. Instead it was Michael and Maria holding hands, Liz begging him with her eyes not to make her choose. That in itself was a choice wasn’t it?

He’d made his own choice a decade ago and they had made theirs a little over three weeks ago. One thing Alex had to learn quickly was how to drink alone. To be fair he was getting pretty good at it, practice makes perfect. He had Kyle back, sort of, but there was still the bravado Alex felt he needed around his old friend. Maybe they’d buried the hatchet but scars run deep, and habits can be hard to break.

He’d planned his Saturday sitting on his porch, drinking some beer and wallowing in his own self pity. It was the only reason he was buying alcohol at 10am, most of the town still asleep or avoiding the heat. The last person he expected to run into, sunglasses hiding her face and two bottles of red tucked under her arm was Isobel. 

He couldn’t really remember ever having a conversation with her. He knew how much she meant to Michael, but did she know what Michael had meant to Alex? It was better not to think about it. Instead he nodded her way and attempted to side step around her in the aisle. It appeared she had other plans.

“You look more pathetic than I feel, and that’s saying something.” It stopped him in his tracks, had him turning slowly to take her in. She slid her large glasses up onto her forehead, her eyes were red but there wasn’t a hint of sadness in them. No, he saw what could only be described as understanding, maybe even fellowship and a hint of something else. Something he recognized.

Barely contained rage.

He didn’t know how to respond to that. She was a hard one to read, perfect facade that had all come crashing down. He didn’t feel like his pain could even hold a candle to hers. Maybe she’d been an uppity bitch back in high school, head held high to balance her prom queen crown but she wasn’t that person anymore. No one deserved what Noah has done to her, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

It was painful enough losing someone’s love, but learning you never had it to begin with? That was anguish.

He turned away and went to the cooler, hoisting the case of beer under his arm. He also snagged a bottle of tequila as he headed to the register. He didn’t see Isobel anywhere, hoped she found whatever she was looking for at the bottom of her bottle. Alex had yet to find answers in the bottom of his.

Instead he found her leaning against his Jeep, bags on the ground at her feet. She had her hips pushed out, braced for a fight. Alex, meanwhile, wasn't looking for one.

“I need a ride home.” It wasn’t a request but a command, and last Alex checked she wasn’t his superior officer, even if she had a sneer like one.

“And that’s your vehicle located northwest, you know, across the street.” It was early so there was no limit to his stride as he made his way closer.

He watched Isobel’s veneer slip, the swagger that was so much like Michael it made him ache disappeared.

“He bought it for me, I just realized. Anniversary gift. I never want to drive it again.” She said it like that was a good enough answer and for Alex it sure as hell was. Instead he jerked his head as he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked his passenger door and opened it for her. He was still a gentleman, and he wasn’t above simple kindness.

She climbed in, but put a hand on his arm.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Alex almost laughed.

“Neither do I.”

She nodded her understanding, they both had some broken hearts beating simply to pump the anger through their veins. Analyzing that fact wasn’t going to change it. Instead he shut her door with a click and made his way around to his own side.

They drove in relative silence, every corner causing the bottles at Isobel’s feet to clank and rattle. He knew where she lived, Isobel had been made for suburbia, even if she was from another planet altogether.

He pulled into her drive and shut off his car.

“Not going to lie, wasn’t sure how safely we’d get here, you being down a limb and all.” 

This time Alex did laugh, because Isobel didn’t wear kid gloves around him and dammit if he didn’t enjoy that. It was nice for someone to look at him with something other than pity.

“Come on. We’ll be less pathetic if we get wasted together.”

The inside of her house was just as one would imagine, modern furniture, tasteful art and a large pile of men’s clothes heaped in the middle of the living room. Isobel flicked her hand at the mound as she headed for her kitchen, “Help yourself.”

Alex turned his nose up at the idea of cast offs from a serial killer and followed Isobel into the kitchen. He placed his bottle of tequila down on the counter. She handed him a corkscrew and he got to opening a bottle while she grabbed large wine glasses and a cutting board. He poured them each a glass as she cut up cheese and grabbed a package of crackers.

He blinked at her as she rolled her eyes, “We can be civilized about it.” She balanced the board on her hand as if she’d been serving patrons her entire life and grabbed her glass. Alex followed her again, wondered for a second if he would always be just two steps behind an alien when it came to living his life when she surprised him. She slid her patio door open and took a sip from glass. 

“After you.”

********

“What was it like?” 

“What was what like?”

“Seeing the world?”

“I was in Iraq and Afghanistan. I saw sand and death and children going hungry. Sorry I didn’t send any postcards.” Alex leaned forward to refill Isobel’s glass.

“Don’t be, Roswell has never been worth the postage.”

He touched his glass to hers in agreement.

**********

“Admit it, you like this song!” Isobel twirled as she shouted, pop music thumping so hard Alex should be annoyed. Instead he’s laughing as she swished her imaginary skirt, shooting him a come hither look. 

He just shakes his head and leans back, but he gives in eventually and sings along. Even holds out his hand and lets her grasp it as she dances around him.

*********

Letting an intoxicated Isobel paint his nails sparkly black was not Alex’s wisest decision. Then again, also not his worst.

“Hey, I’m doing a good job.” She sticks out her tongue as she steadies her hand and does one final stroke. “Ta-da!”

She blows on his fingertips, and passes him the bottle. “Now do mine!”

Naturally his work is better than hers.

*********

Alex isn’t sure how he ended up on the floor, but Isobel had tossed him some cushions and he’s shaded from the setting sun. He’s comfortable and relaxed, and holding a glass of tequila and ice to his forehead.

“I envied you in high school.” Isobel is using Alex’s good leg as a headrest. He can’t remember the last time someone was this close to him, happy being in his space, wanting to be there. Well he did, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“Sure. Gay emo kid with an abusive father, what’s not to love?” There is no bitterness in his voice though, you can only be angry about the past for so long. Also his buzz is making everything easier to bear. “I wish I could have walked down the halls flipping my blonde hair.

���Fuck you. I didn’t walk, I strutted.”

*********

Somehow they’d ended up in the living room, each with a pair of scissors, cutting up Noah’s expensive suits. Alex wasn’t sure they should be using such sharp objects, but then again, he’d done a good job cutting out a star in a cashmere sweater.

“Should I feel bad that I could have donated these? I mean, there are people in need.” She sounded sincere but the swish of her scissor blades doesn’t stop. “But I don’t know if Tide gets out murderous alien germs.”

He hears her sniff and glances up, but her face is set hard. He lets her have that one.

“Or, we could burn the lot.” He likes the idea, is a little proud of it. 

Isobel’s smile is slow and menacing, “I have marshmallows.”

*********

His fingers are sticky and his stomach hurts from laughing as he watches Isobel try to lean out of her chair to grasp her drink. She’s going to fall and for some reason it’s ridiculous. The whole day has been.

She sits up and pouts.

“Come on, you have ET powers on your side. You got this, Evans.”

It takes a few minutes and her face gets flat and serious. Then the glass skitters across the pavement to bang against the leg of her chair. 

She picks it up with a flourish, all he can do is applaud.

********

“No, you have to shoot, use the A button!” Isobel is useless at this and he’s willing to sacrifice her to the cause. Leave no man behind doesn’t count when they’re this bad.

“Which one is A?”

“The one with an A on it! Dammit!” The screen goes red, they’re both dead. Alex drops his controller and drinks straight from the bottle. All sense of propriety went out the window around 2am, so he holds it her way so she can take a sip. 

She can handle her liquor better than most of the men he serves with. He’ll never tell her that though.

*********

“You know you could use your mind meld skills to get someone to bring us pizza.” The fact that Roswell doesn’t have a take out place open past 11:00pm is the greatest shame of the century.

“Or I could use my mind meld skills to get you to grab the Pop Tarts out the freezer.”

“You keep your Pop Tarts in the freezer?”

“You’ve never had a frozen Pop Tart?!” When he shakes his head she scrambles off the sofa, nearly trips over her own feet. “I am about to rock your world.”

It’s no blow job from Michael Guerin but it’s a close second.

********

Alex isn’t sure if it’s the pounding on the door or the pounding inside his head that wakes him up. He could do without both, and a healthy does of H20. He feels legs tangled with his own, knows they must have passed out head to toe on Isobel’s large sectional. He realizes he hadn’t removed his prosthetic and that is going to hurt later. Instead he wiggles his socked foot in Isobel’s face. It’s her house, he’s not answering the door.

Also if he gets up he just might die.

She squirms but it’s too little too late when the door bangs open and her brothers storm in with their girlfriends hot on their heels.

He hears Max’s huff and Maria’s laugh but they’re both drowned out by an unimpressed, “What the actual fuck?!”

Great. Michael’s here.

Isobel wraps her arms around Alex’s leg and snuggles into it. So it looks like she’s leaving him to deal with the Alien scout patrol.

“I repeat, what the fuck?”

Alex finally opens his eyes and is met with Michael’s hard and unimpressed stare. As if he has a commodity on messy hangovers or something. He kicks his foot again and Isobel huffs, but it’s enough to get her sitting up, hand pressed to her forehead.

She pushes Alex’s legs so he has no choice but to follow suit.

“You snore, Manes.”

“I know.” Michael says it before Alex can, the silence afterwards almost deafening. Max coughs as Alex shoots Isobel a look. It results in them bursting into giggles and leaning into each other on the sofa. To be fair, Alex's not sure how either of them are semi upright at this point anyway. No one else seems to get the joke.

“They’re okay guys, maybe we should let them sleep it off.” Liz is smiling but also glancing between Maria and Michael. There’s an issue there but it’s none of Alex’s business, just like he is none of there’s.

“You don’t answer our calls and Max finds your car deserted in town. We’re worried sick and you’re here passed out with him.” Michael isn’t letting this go and Alex almost stands up, squaring for a fight. Isobel puts a hand on his knee to stop him.

“It’s called a bender Michael, you of all people should understand that.” She attempts to rise and makes it halfway before she falls back, half in Alex’s lap. He catches her and rights her again. She pats the top of his head in thanks.

“Water?” Isobel is ignoring everyone else, Alex is keen on the idea.

“God, yes please.”

Alex leans back into the sofa and rubs at his temples. He can feel Michael’s frustrated gaze on him, even more so when Isobel hands him a cold bottle. He opens it, reaches out to tap it against hers and downs the whole thing in one go. 

No one is saying anything and Alex isn’t about to be the first. Last he checked he and Isobel were adults, but the eyes Liz is making at Max don’t seem to be doing the job.

“So, I’m alive, we’re alive. Any other questions or is the interrogation over?” Isobel seems revived by the water and the weight of Michael’s disapproving eyes. No one says anything. “Great.”

She leans down, grabs Alex’s hand to help haul him to his feet. Somehow his leg is working and he’s not limping. He’s starting to wonder if this is all a weird fever dream. Then Isobel tucks her arm into his and leads him to the door and past the army of interlopers.

“You owe me one.” It’s whispered as she presses her cheek to his in a mock kiss, like they’re high society and didn’t murder three bottles of wine and all the tequila that didn’t end up on the kitchen floor.

He thinks he might love her. Platonically but reverently, the twinkle in her eye leads him to believe he’s not alone in the feeling. 

“Until Saturday, ma’am.” He gives her a smile and a tiny salute, which became a thing last night, though for the life of him he can’t remember how.

“Of course, I’ll bring the limes and the hot sauce. Now run while you can.” She shoots him a wink and he makes his escape. The last thing he hears as the door shuts is Michael’s frustrated shout of, “What the hell is Saturday?”

Alex swings his keys around his finger and heads for his Jeep.

After a much needed shower and something greasy to settle his stomach he crawls into his own bed. As he lays there his phone beeps twice.

One is a message from an unknown number that says, “It's unfair this polish looks better on you than me.” He saves the number under the name Interstellar Bitch and makes a mental note to show Isobel later on. She’ll get a kick out of it.

The second is from Michael that’s four simple words, “We need to talk.”

He only replies to one, types out “It’s an emo thing.”

Then he presses his face into his pillow and laughs.

[some-mad-lunge]

Undrunk - A Malex Fic

I have been obsessed with the song “Undrunk” by Fletcher, and of course it made me think of our boys. Our stupidly beautiful boys. So here you go, do with it what you will.

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

Wish I could get a little un-drunk so I could un-call you

At five in the morning, I would un-fuck you

He’s in that blissful place, the one brought on by just enough tequila and the wandering hands of the blonde who lead him into the bathroom. He’s shoved up against the door, gripping hair that doesn’t curl around his fingers, wet heat around his dick. His gasps are almost loud enough to quiet his heart, silence the voice in his head, make it go away.

He’s shaking from the force of it, the hazy cloud of satisfaction that’s on the wrong side of empty.

“Whose Guerin?” The voice is too rough, none of the sweetness he misses so much. Too much. Always.

Alex ignores the question by sinking to his knees.

Honestly, this party's over

Everyone here should have gone home

But I'm afraid of being sober

He only goes to the bar on the nights he knows they won’t be there. He believes in self preservation above all things now. His days are hard enough, the night is for escape, forgetting.

It’s welcome and yet strange to see someone else behind the bar. It’s even weirder to be the one leaning against it, glass in hand when last call is rung. He’s usually found someone by now, but tonight he’ll go home alone.

He thinks about the bottle in his cupboard waiting for him and breathes deep.

Maybe not so lonely after all.

'Cause the first thing I do when I'm alone

I start touching myself to the photos that you used to send me

I should have deleted, but kept it a secret

Is that crazy to do?

Alex hears him sometimes, floating sighs and whispered words. He’s woken up reaching for a someone most mornings, everytime.

He still does. He probably always will. It’s just easier when there is heat and muscle waiting for him, even if it belongs to the wrong person.

So I squeeze out the lime on the ice of my drink

And the juice hits the cuts on my fingers

It still doesn't burn as much as the thought of you

He pushes himself too hard. His physical therapist reprimands him, his doctor gives him a serious stare. He promises to slow down, to not push his limits.

The pain, it’s just too welcome to give up.

Wish I could get a little un-drunk so I could un-call you

At five in the morning, I would un-fuck you

But some things you can't undo

Three missed calls from Liz. Nine missed calls from Kyle. One missed call from Isobel. That one peaked his curiosity, so much that he almost gave in and rang her back. Almost.

He had 86 unread text messages. They could stay that way.

I wish I could un-kiss the room full of strangers

So I could un-spite you, un-lose my temper

But somethings you can't undo

And one of them's you

He pushes back, begs for it harder, faster. He’s so close and it hurts, everything hurts until it doesn’t. For one blissful minute he doesn’t feel anything. Then it’s cooling sweat and aching muscles and nothing.

“You don’t have to leave.” The voice is kind, the eyes soft, the type you could fall in love with if you had a heart to give.

Alex pulls on his jeans and goes, his heart hasn’t been his for over a decade

I'm afraid to turn the lights on

I don't want to face this rebound

Is it weird if I come over?

I want to but I know that she's around

Had he been paying attention he would have noticed they were there, watching him, them. He’s too engrossed in the lips whispering in his ear, caged by shoulders and thighs, a hand holding a pool cue.

This one doesn’t know Alex’s laugh is empty, haunted. He smiles into the kiss, he doesn’t worry if they’re on display. He could care less what the idiots of Roswell think of him, he never really did.

There has only been one person’s respect he’d ever wanted, and what a foolish game that had been. He pushes his hips, gets enough space to head back to the bar. He can feel lustful eyes trailing him and it gives him a dull thrill.

“Manes.”

He hears it. No, he feels it, through every nerve ending in his body. Cosmic bullshit. He downs his glass and signals for another.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough.”

Michael is less than an arm's reach away but it may as well be light years. The thought makes him giggle, he’s drunk enough to let it escape.

“What about this is funny to you, Alex?”

He looks up then, chocolate eyes that pierce into him, the laughter bubbles out even more. He glances over Guerin’s shoulder, sees Maria and Liz, concerned faces. The humour dies on his lips.

“What about this isn’t funny, Michael?”

Life is one big fucking joke, and somewhere Alex can hear his father laughing. He raises his glass to his friends, if he can he still call them that, and heads back to to the pool table.

Alex doesn’t walk out into the night alone and he doesn’t bother to look if anyone notices. He gets a handjob in the cab of the stranger’s pick up truck and is thankful for the steamed up windows.

So I'm touching myself to the photos that you used to send me

I should have deleted, but kept it a secret

Is that crazy to do?

Some nights he pulls out his guitar and strums some chords. He lets himself remember youth and dreams, first kisses and safe embraces.

He used to want so much, believed he could have it, deserved it.

His life is just one long endless whimper now.

Oh, I'm hungry and wasted and my hands are shaking

I shouldn't be cooking, be spilling hot water

It still doesn't burn as much as the thought of you

He hates himself, a little more everyday. If Michael had felt half of this in the last decade, an ounce of it, well then Alex is the one to blame. Then he deserves all of this.

You only hurt the ones you love. Or so they say.

Wish I could get a little un-drunk so I could un-call you

At five in the morning, I would un-fuck you

But some things you can't undo

“I’m sorry.”

He never should have reached for his phone. He never should have had just one more. It made him weak, weaker. It’s dark and he’s alone, scared even. He’s never going to feel anything else ever again and it terrifies him.

“Alex...it’s okay…”

“But it’s not. Because I left, I know I left so many times but I never loved anyone else. I never tried. I knew it was pointless. I’m sorry, I believed you felt the same.”

He hears a rustle and a soft muffled voice asking Michael what’s wrong and Alex knows, of course he does. Who else could it be? It hits him, the regret, the envy.

He hangs up the phone. He listens to it ring over and over on the pillow beside him until he finally turns it off and gets up to have a 3:00am beer. Or three.

I wish I could un-kiss the room full of strangers

So I could un-spite you, un-lose my temper

But somethings you can't undo

And one of them's you

Max leans against the cell, the pity in his eyes is almost as painful as the split skin on Alex’s knuckles.

“Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, never thought aliens existed or that people could die and then un-die, so what the fuck do we know?”

Max just sighs in response as he opens the door.

“He’s not pressing charges so you’re damn lucky” Like Alex should be grateful for that or something.

“He was a homophobic prick.”

“Yeah, he was.”

Alex refuses to limp as he walks out of the cell. He almost makes it to the door.

“He did this for 10 years Alex, don’t make the same mistakes.” The kindness in Max’s voice makes him crumble inside, almost enough for the wall to come down.

Instead Alex shakes his head.

“Guess it’s my turn then.”

If Max has anymore thoughts on the subject Alex doesn’t bother to wait to hear them.

Been through every emotion

Right now I'm sad and broken

Like the bottles on the floor, but I'm too buzzed to clean them up

“This needs to stop.”

Alex doesn’t bother responding, just reaches for the bottle that has a little bit of liquid left in it. It’s warm and it burns. Good.

“Seriously, Alex we’re worried.” Kyle sits on the coffee table, the one that hides his father’s secrets. He wishes he could shove everything down below and shut the door. Lock it up and forget. He just wants to forget.

“Oh are “we”?” He tries to pick himself up off the floor but he’s too much booze and not enough limbs. He pushes away the hands that try to help him.

“Are you going to let him do this to you?”

Alex throws the bottle against the fireplace, enjoys watching Kyle flinch when it shatters. He remembers what it was like, to feel things, anything.

“If you’re here to appease everyone’s guilt then you can go. I don’t blame anyone but myself.”

He is grateful to whatever God let him have the dignity to finally stand, it hurts, everything hurts, but he does it.

“You let yourself in, let yourself out.”

He slams his bedroom door for good measure.

Wish I could get a little un-drunk

So I could, I could un-love you

Wish I could get a little un-drunk so I could un-call you

At five in the morning, I would un-fuck you

But some things you can't undo

“Remember me?”

Alex looks up from the spot on the table where his glass has left a ring of wet. He had thought it poetic somehow, but he can’t remember why anymore.

It’s Dan. Or Dave. Or…

“Dallas” He offers his hand for a shake, like they’ve just met and Alex doesn’t know what it’s like to have the man inside him.

“Alex.” It's the polite thing to do.

“I know. Want some company?”

He should say no, but he wants to say yes. There is only so much alone one person can take. He motions to the space across from him, those eyes are still kind, that face still gorgeous.

Alex knows he’ll never love him like he loved Michael, but maybe that’s the point. Something instead of everything.

I wish I could un-kiss the room full of strangers

So I could un-spite you, un-lose my temper

But somethings you can't undo

And one of them's you

He’s laughing again, honest to God laughing for no other reason than because Dallas is funny, witty. Smart and kind, beautiful.

Something.

After a few weeks Alex pulls him into the Wild Pony, they sit eating greasy bar food and nursing beers. It’s a Thursday night, it’s Alex’s night. Now it’s Alex and Dallas’s, it feels good.

Dallas has sauce on his chin and Alex doesn’t think as he reaches forward to wipe it off. Doesn’t expect those eyes to brighten, for lips to press a kiss into his palm. It settles something into his chest, warm and whole, comfortable.

He can have this. He does have this.

It’s the perfect evening until Dallas gets a call from work, has to head out to solve some crisis. He kisses Alex slow, nestles his forehead to Alex’s temple and whispers “I’ll miss you.”

Alex is still smiling as he watches Dallas pull out of the parking lot. It disappears when he sees who’s leaning casually against his car, black cowboy hat in place.

You, you

Wish I could un-love you

They just stare at each other, it’s their own brand of conversation.

You, you, you

Wish I could un-call you

“Does he make you happy?” Alex can feel his heart constrict, it’s missed that tone so much. The one Alex was certain had only ever been for him.

“Does it matter?” It’s the only answer he has in him.

Michael sighs, “Always.”

You, you, you

Wish I could un-fuck you

You

“She’s not you.” It’s so earnest, so honest and Alex doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I thought that was the point.” Hadn’t it been? Wasn’t what all this was about, Michael deserving more and realizing it?

“I don’t know how to stop loving you.” There are tears in both their eyes and Alex, he wants grasp to with greedy hands.

Cosmic bullshit.

Everything.

Wish I could un-love you

[some-mad-lunge]

The Last Goodbye

It was the third time Alex has had to pick Maria up off the floor behind the bar, sober her up and tuck her into bed. Each time she cries a part of him understands and part of him, well it hates her doesn’t it? Still if anyone knows the damage Michael Guerin can do to the heart it’s Alex Manes. So he buries it, digs it deep under all the rest of the shit labeled “for another day” and waits until he hears her soft snore before he lets himself leave.

He knows she’ll be okay. Tonight had been more about her mother than anything else. Guerin was just something she called a mistake, always giving Alex a look like she can’t believe he still talks to her. It had been hard at first, he couldn’t pretend otherwise. Still the heart wants what it wants, how many times had he yelled that at his father? How many times had he swore he would never be ashamed to follow where it led? How could he deny anyone else that same simple freedom?

And Maria, she’s amazing isn’t she. Strong and fierce, uncomplicated as a person can be. He envied her, sleeping off the pain of what she was losing, something Alex has never had to begin with.

He thought he’d had family once, put all his hope in one person, still did. Only now that person was himself.

The irony is that Maria had been the one to end it. The alien secret had come out too soon in whatever Maria and Michael were trying to be for her to see anything else. She’d been livid at them all for keeping it from her but maybe they’d all known, deep down, how she’d react. Even for someone with a mystical mind and a soft heart it was a lot to take. Again, Alex understood how she felt, and that just made it all the more difficult when he saw Michael’s truck in his driveway.

He gripped his steering wheel tight between his fingers. He’d known eventually Michael would come but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be on a night like tonight. Not when Alex was beyond weary of being the strong one, he was tired of breaking his own heart.

Of course Guerin looked beautiful, stained shirt and snug jeans, leaning on Alex’s porch railing like he’s supposed to be there. Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore. Always that teenage dream, the one that Alex never woke up from.

His leg ached, too much carrying Maria around and he can’t hide the slight limp as he makes his way up his front step. Michael notices and the pressure lessens instantly. Alex is too tired to be anything but thankful, walking through his front door and switching on the lights. He heads to the fridge to grab two beers, he knows Guerin will follow.

“Your door was unlocked this whole time?” It’s a low whisper, and Alex let’s it wash over him just one last time. Then he hardens his face as he turns, a bottle in his outstretched hand.

“Anyone who wanted in would find a way.” He knows there’s an edge to his voice, Michael wincing slightly before taking the offered beer. They both know any other time before Alex would have found him on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. Always trying to prove to Alex he had nowhere to hide, that he couldn’t run from them.

So he steps back, needing the space to be rational and the support of the counter to lean against. He’s just so weary of it all but if they’re going to do this best to get it done.

“I was trying to be respectful.”

“First time for everything. Why are you here, Guerin?” It’s a stupid question to ask, they both know the answer but Alex stopped believing he understood them a long time ago. Stopped assuming he knew what Michael meant when he opened his mouth.

“You know why.” Michael takes a swig of his beer, hand coming up to run threw his curls. It makes Alex’s fingers twitch, sense memory, another phantom limb.

“Yeah, well I’m going to need you to say it.” After Caulfield Alex had been nothing but honest, can’t have anymore space for misunderstandings. If Guerin chose to disbelieve, that was on him wasn’t it?

“You know why I had to try, with Maria…”

It takes everything Alex has left to meet Guerin’s eyes, he sees pain and want and a life that he’s not allowed to have anymore.

Yeah, he kind of hates them both, the two people he’s only ever loved more than anything.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Are you?”

Alex can’t help the spiteful laugh that bubbles out, slams his bottle on the counter as he braces his arms against it.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t like seeing the people I care about hurting. I’m sure that must come as a surprise.” In all of this that’s the most confusing part, watching Maria lose something she thought was real before it began. Seeing Michael’s chance at “normal” blow up in his face because of something he can’t control. None of them asked for this, Alex included.

The silence is defining, he can literally feel Michael’s need flowing through the room. He resents it because he feels it too. He’s accepted it, Michael just needs to catch up.

“Look, Guerin I’m tired. Really fucking tired, so if you could just say…”

“I love you.”

There it is, what they both know, have always known. Once again, it just doesn’t change anything. Alex remembers when he thought it did, when he believed it could.

“I know.”

Michael moves like he’s coming to him and Alex shakes his head firmly, stops him in his tracks.

“I told you, I told you there was no going back from this.” He had, when he’d seen Michael’s healed hand holding Maria’s across the bar, when he’d searched him out to tell him about Max.

He’d tucked it away until later, when the dust had settled and they had a moment alone. Told him he wished them both happy, the words sour in his mouth. If someone was going to throw him away, at least it had been for his favourite human.

“And I told you I needed to try, I had to know if I could feel anything for anyone else. And I could, and I did, but it didn’t compare. You have to know…”

“You need to leave.” For all of his bravado Alex doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to be who he is, doesn’t want to do what he knows he has to do so he can sleep at night.

“You don’t mean that.” There’s a wonder to Michael’s voice, a pleading in his eyes that almost breaks Alex’s resolve. Almost has him believing that nothing else will matter if he just has his arms around the man he loves.

Life isn’t a romance novel, and Alex doesn’t get to have those things. At least his Dad has been right about that.

“It’s why I wished you and Maria had worked out after all, hell you still might. At least then you didn’t throw us away for nothing.” He realizes he needs to be cruel, logic never worked on Guerin. He has a heart to break, and this time it’s not his own.

“Alex, please.”

“You could have picked anyone else, Guerin. Anyone. But you chose her and I get it, she’s amazing. She’s sunshine and joy, uncomplicated and special. That’s why she’s my best friend. That’s why I have spent everyday since trying to kill every piece of what I feel for you. Every damn hold you have on me. I love you, I always have, I probably always will. But us, this, whatever we were holding onto, we let go. Here. Now. I won’t do that to her, I can’t.” He knows there’s unshed tears in his eyes, he knows if Michael dared to reach for him he wouldn’t be turned away.

“She’s the one that ended it.” Maybe to Guerin that’s what this is all about. Maybe it’s got nothing to do with Alex. Part of him wants to believe it, pretend this is some trick to hurt Maria like she hurt Michael, but he knows it’s not. It’s them, it’s what they do to each other. This constant give and take, mostly Alex and his selfish taking. He doesn’t want to be that person, not anymore.

So he does it, he keeps going, it’s the only move he has anymore.

“And you ended us. It’s what you wanted. Own it. Embrace it. Find your normal and easy, get out from underneath the mess we made.”

“I fucked up, I was confused and I just wanted…”

Alex cuts him off, plays the ace that will be the final note to their sad love song.

“Look away.”

Alex knows he’ll never forget the pained expression on Michael’s gorgeous face. He’ll never forget how it took every ounce of strength he had to not let his knees buckle in that moment.

He loves him, it’s so deep inside, so rooted that Alex can’t imagine it being my other way. Michael deserves his normal, and maybe it wasn’t with Maria but it’ll be with someone else. Someone whole and hopefully worthy. Someone who doesn’t lay awake most nights with regret flickering like a flame behind his eyes. Someone who didn’t break Michael over and over again, someone who won’t keep doing it.

“No.”

A beer bottle smashes to the floor, strong warm hands are pulling at his face before he can blink. Fingers curling into his neck, noses brushing, and Alex can’t stop the painful ache as his heart thuds in his chest.

“Don’t ask that of me, anything else Manes. Not that.”

He can’t help himself, he’s weak and tired, it’s too easy to tip his mouth right where he wants it. It’s soft and remorseful, he puts everything he wishes he could take back into that kiss. This, it’s got to be the last goodbye, for both of them.

Guerin must sense it, because he holds on tighter, molds his body into Alex’s, tries to lock them into place. For a moment, he pretends this is what it could be like. No more secrets, no more lies, no more games. Just Alex and Michael, two people who found each other because that was the way it was supposed to be.

Finally he lets go of the vice grip he has on the arms that hold him and pushes the warm body away.

“Michael…”

“No, not this time. You have to stop running from me.” Fingers slide out of his hair, he’s not sure he’s ever felt so cold in his life.

“I stopped running months ago.” Alex side steps around him, avoids the broken glass and foamed beer on the floor, opens the door. Michael’s eyes flick between the waiting night sky and Alex’s face.

“Then why?” Alex hangs his head, pinches the bridge of his nose to try and stop the tears that will give him away.

“I’m not what you want, Guerin, not really. Maybe it’s the chase, maybe I’m the excuse you use to stay where you are. But you can be more, you can have more and you realized it. This is just a blip. You’ll wake up tomorrow and remember why you chose differently when you could.”

“And what, finally have a day where I don’t feel like I’m falling apart without you? Tell me Alex, tell me how to do it? I’ve tried, I’ve fucking tried and it doesn’t work. Tell me how to run like you do.” It burns, those words, because the truth hurts, every damn time.

“You put one foot in front of the other as you walk out this door.” Alex smiled at him then, he hopes it’s cruel, he hopes it slices and severs. He hopes it sets Guerin free.

Those eyes widen, lips curl in disgust, boots crunching glass as Michael walks past Alex. He smells of sweat and oil, Alex breathes it in deep, a memory to lock away. He can’t bring himself to look, waits until the headlights fade and the tires squeal off in the distance before he pulls out his phone.

He knows Guerin, he knows he’ll be back. He’s the strong one. He’ll keep fighting, he always does. Alex was the only one weak enough to run away, so we would, again.  Only this time he won’t make the mistake of coming back. He owes Michael that much.

[some-mad-lunge]

There’s Only One Bed - Michael Guerin Week Fic

My interpretation of one of my all time fav tropes.

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

“We have a problem.” Michael leaned into the open window of his truck, aware once again of the insanity of the situation.

“And what is that?” Alex was tired, that much was clear. He also had a smudge of dirt on his face and a few split knuckles that looked raw.

“They only have one room, and that room only has one bed.” Michael wasn’t a white knight by any means but the last thing he wanted was to break the small amount of friendship they’d built in the last 48 hours. “I’ll sleep in the truck.”

Alex let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You are not sleeping rough because of me. It’s fine. We can share.”

“Alex…”

“Oh for God’s sake get over yourself Guerin. I’m not sure I can even stand at the moment, I won’t be taking liberties.”

Yeah, that was the problem, Michael kind of wanted him to. Firstly, it was Alex and regardless of what he might say or do Michael was always going to want that body pressed against his own. Second, watching Alex take down two of his brothers with his fists and only one good leg may have been the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Michael was a simple man, well alien, and he wasn’t above admitting it. He watched in shock as Alex had taken both men down, then jumped in his truck with the simple shout of “Drive!”

So he had, until they were almost out of gas and about halfway back home. They hadn’t found what they’d been looking for but they knew they were on the right track. Jesse Manes wouldn’t have sent his minion sons after them if they weren’t.

That was neither here nor there. They were both exhausted, Alex was in pain and that was not something Michael would ever be comfortable witnessing.

“So?”

“Huh?” Michael may have been replaying the fierce look in Alex’s eyes in the glow of his headlights as he choked out his older brother. Right after he’d knocked the other one out cold with an elbow to the face. It had been…

“The room number?”

“4.” Michael was kind enough to walk ahead to save Alex having to pretend he wasn’t wincing with every step. He debated taking some of Alex’s weight with his ability but the stubborn idiot could always tell and he never took kindly to it.

Alex decided to have a shower and now that was something else Michael had to visualize. He was trying to imagine this sleep situation. Sure the bed was a king, and though it was a cheap blink and you miss it motel the thing looked clean enough. The problem was that Michael ran hot. Too hot. He usually always slept naked and even then any sheets ended up kicked to his feet in the night.

He couldn’t do that with Alex, no doubt sharing sheets wouldn’t help the heat situation. Something about Alex just made him radiate, always had. He didn’t like to think too much on why that was.

He listened to the water run, jolted a little when he heard it stop. He wanted to make sure he was there if Alex needed him, some habits die hard. Instead a few moments later the object of his thoughts emerged. His hair was damp, he was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs and without his prosthetic. He looked gorgeous, even with the weight of the world still heavy on his shoulders.

“It’s all yours.” Alex leaned on the wall. Clearly he would have to do some maneuvering to get to bed unaided and he didn’t want Michael to watch him do it. So Michael made his way quickly into the small steamed up room, shut the door softly behind him. He took in Alex’s clothes, damp and hanging on the towel rack. He sniffed at his own and figured he’d be fine the next day. He was just thankful he’d chosen to wear underwear that morning. He splashed some cold water on his face and then just braced against the sink, tried to get his head on straight.

They’d spent all day together, in the close confines of his truck. This should be no problem. They would be unconscious for most of it anyway. He spotted the leg leaning against the wall and figured he’d bring that out in case Alex needed it in the night. If he took a couple deep breaths before he opened the door no one would need to know.

The room was softly lit now, just the lamp on his side of the bed glowing. Alex was a lump under the covers, his arm thrown over to hide his face. Michael had to resist the bizarre urge to jump on him, make him laugh, anything to dissipate the black cloud hanging in the room.

Instead he leaned Alex’s prosthetic against the wall, quickly undressed and laid on top of the blankets as he turned out the light. He could see movement out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t dare look. Knowing Alex was beside him was more than torture enough.

Still the silence, it was kind of killing him,

“I’m not against sharing a blanket with you, it’s just that I…”

“Run hot. I know.” Alex’s voice was a watery whisper and it made Michael’s throat tight.

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t mean to say it out loud, it just always seemed to run on repeat in his brain when the love of his life was around.

“What for?” There was a hitch to Alex’s voice. Maybe the dark would let them be truthful for once.

“All of it. Everything. Mostly that your family is shit.” Alex’s brothers had been relentless, for no other reason than because their father told them to be.

“Yeah well...they aren’t my family.”

It hung there between them, Michael knew what he meant. Or at least what he hoped it could mean. Then he felt it, cool fingers slipping into his, seeking comfort and warmth. They locked together, grasped tight.

“Alex…”

“Can we just pretend, right now, that everything outside these walls doesn’t exist? That us, what we’ve done to each other, what we’re up against, all of it...can we just face it tomorrow?”

Michael took in the fierce squeeze of Alex’s hand, knew that if he reached out he would feel the wet of tears on those cheeks. Instead he rolled onto his side, molded his body to Alex’s, fit his chin into the dip of shoulder and neck. He heard a sigh, then arms came around him, the blankets around Alex the only barrier between them.

Tomorrow they had a conspiracy to unravel, questions to answer and a past inching closer and closer on their heels. Michael wasn’t entirely sure he’d survive it all, if any of them would.

But right now, as he was lulled to sleep by fingers in his hair, it didn’t seem to matter too much. And maybe that was the only answer worth finding.

[some-mad-lunge]

When Alex Manes Loves You

This is a Isobel x Alex friendship fic with a whole bunch of Malex for good measure. For @bisexualalienblast who always deserves a smile and who dragged me into this fandom.

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

He takes care of you.

Alex leaned over the building plans spread out on the table. They were almost certain this was another facility, one that might just have some of the answers they were desperate for.

Well most of them were, Michael still wasn’t sure what Alex’s motivation was. At least not anymore. How many sins of your father were you supposed to atone for before you were square?

Max was sitting in a chair, he still had trouble standing for too long. Coming back from death was a bitch. Still he seemed to be taking in everything Alex was saying. At least someone was.

Michael couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Isobel and he wasn’t paying attention to anything else.

She’d walked in 10 minutes earlier, flounced in really, and tossed her bag in the corner like she’d done it a million times. Michael had only been to Alex’s bunker once before. He could swear there were ghosts in the walls, it made him feel watched. Isobel, however, seemed comfortable as could be.

It irked him.

She was in yoga clothes, an old habit she’d picked back up since she found out her husband was a serial killer. He didn’t think she believed in all that zen bullshit but he wasn’t about to say anything about her new exercise kick. With Isobel you picked your battles.

She’d barely been there two minutes when Alex reached into his own duffel bag and tossed something in Isobel’s direction without even looking at her. She caught it with ease, wrinkled her nose. It looked like homemade trail mix, how very military.

“I can't deal with your hanger today. Yes, there’s M&M’s in there somewhere. Anyway, as I was saying…” Alex kept talking but Michael doesn’t hear it.

It’s a simple thing, so tiny and insignificant but all Michael can do is stare at the bag in Isobel’s hands. She flicked her fingers around inside, digging until she finds what she’s looking for. She held the chocolate between her thumb and forefinger, smirked at Alex before she popped it in her mouth.

The smile Alex gives her in response can only be described as fond, lips Michael once knew intimately pursed in amusement.

He doesn’t want to name the feeling that rolled around in his stomach, refused to acknowledge it. When Isobel held the bag out and Alex took a handful without looking up from the table Michael felt his whole body clench.

He humours you.

He was getting used to being in Alex’s space, not just his bunker, their unofficial place to discuss all things alien conspiracy, but near him. Close enough to feel the heat of his dark skin, breathe the same air. It doesn’t hurt anymore, at least not as much.

Maybe they would be friends after all.

That is until he walks in, sees Kyle laughing, Alex with a bemused expression on his face and Isobel hanging something on the wall.

When Michael read what it said he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

“There. Now it’s more homey.” Isobel stood with her hands on her hips, glanced over at Michael with a small smile on her lips. It’s the first genuine one he’s seen in months.

Later when Alex and Michael are sitting at the screens, he leaned over, kept his voice low.

“Are you really going to leave that up?”

He shrugged, but Michael doesn’t miss the way the skin on Alex’s arm beside his prickled in goosebumps. It gave him a rush of warmth, a feeling of satisfaction he missed too much to admit.

“It makes her happy.”

And that seemed good enough for Alex.

When Michael walked out later he reads the words. He knows it’s a joke, but he can’t seem to laugh.

Bunker Sweet Bunker

He makes you smile.

Max was keeping a very close eye on his sister and Michael was along for the ride. Today was her wedding anniversary. No one mentions it, no one dared to, but they knew it would be a hard day for her. She wouldn’t admit it, because weakness was not a word in Isobel’s vocabulary. So instead Max was brooding, pouring Isobel wine in the middle of the day like this was some joyful alien family gathering and not them trying to make sure she doesn’t crack.

Michael knew that Isobel probably would have preferred to have Alex here. They were so chummy now it made his skin crawl. Another thing he hated to admit, he was jealous of her. It was something he was used to in a way. At least before all her walls came down, and he learned life for her wasn’t as easy as he liked to imagine.

Alex had been the one to ask Max, and therefore by association Michael, to look after Isobel today. The soldier and Kyle (who he would never admit to being envious of, even if you put a syringe of the cure in his arm) were gone on some secret fact finding mission. Michael didn’t know the details. Which was fine.

Let Isobel and Alex have their wine nights. Let Kyle be Alex’s right hand man. It didn’t bother Michael in the slightest.

You’re a miserable liar.

But Max was still hovering, and Isobel just kept sighing and rolling her eyes like she was the one doing them a favour.

The doorbell rang and Michael watched her jump to her feet, no doubt happy for a brief reprieve from their lame attempts at comfort. There had been a time when it was always just the three of them, even when they hated it. God, even when they resented it, at least they had each other. But as more people were let in, as more people were trusted, it blurred what they were to each other.

Michael hated the feeling.

Isobel came back into her living room practically skipping, a package in her hands. Max was instantly on edge, like it would contain a bomb or something. She liked to shop, Michael could only imagine what she’d purchased herself this time.

It wasn’t until he saw her chuckle as she read a card that he realized it was a gift. She placed it on the coffee table and hummed to herself as she used her thumbnail to break through the taped up box. He swiped the card and felt his stomach clench as he read the words inside, the handwriting a little too familiar.

If you’re going to be a widow, best do it right.

Sentiments, et cetera, don’t drink all the wine without me.

A.

Alex hadn’t even signed his full name, just the first letter. Because she would know who it was. Of course she would. It made Michael seethe.

He heard Isobel’s gasp of delight and watched as she unwrapped a black hat, satiny and classic, a small black veil in the front. To anyone else it would be in poor taste, but as she put it on her head and drew the wisp of a veil over her eyes she was positively beaming.

She looked like a vamp in a noir movie, the widow in fake mourning. It suited her, Michael could admit that. The radiant smile on her face filled him up, made him forget his earlier anger. Alex had given Isobel something, made the day easier. He couldn’t be anything but thankful, even it it was begrudgingly.

She ran to look in the mirror, preened at herself and then started rambling about something or other. Max gave Michael a confused look, he just shrugged in response.

He tried to not remember the times when Alex gave Michael exactly what he had needed, exactly when he had needed it.

He leans on you.

As soon as he read the text from Maria he’d gotten into his truck without thinking. When he’d seen her name he’d frozen for a second. They’d ended things a few weeks prior. No drama, no tears. They just weren’t it for each other. He loved her. He always would. Just not the way he was supposed to.

Then her words had him in motion, he had to get to Alex. He couldn’t be alone, not right now, even though Michael was sure he’d demand it and then tear himself up in the process.

It was still light out when he pulled his truck up Alex’s drive. He was stunned for a moment to see not just Kyle’s car but Isobel’s as well. He debated turning around, pretend he’d never come until he saw the front door open and Isobel stepped out onto the porch.

No going back now, so he climbed out, boots kicking up dust. Isobel offered him a small smile.

“Is he…” Michael didn’t know what to ask. Of course he wasn’t okay. Jesse Manes was dead and even if he was the devil incarnate he was still Alex’s dad.

“No, but he will be. Kyle and him are on the back deck grilling steaks.” She was still blocking his path, and Michael knew how to read a room. “We’re going to get him wasted and put him to bed.”

He nodded at her, he’d never felt like he didn’t belong before, not with Isobel. Never with Alex. It felt like being a ship adrift on the water, nowhere to go.

“I just thought he could use a friend.”

“He can, that’s why we’re here.” She wrapped her arms around herself, the way she always did when she’s about to hurt him. Especially when she doesn’t mean to. “I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

He doesn’t let her finish the sentence, it’s already too much. “Yeah, I get it.”

Instead he turned away, felt ridiculous for coming there in the first place.

“Michael.” It’s soft but he hears it. So he stopped, took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. “You’re more than that to him. So much more and he shouldn’t have to deal with that too. Not right now.”

He gave her a quick nod, because she has appointed herself Alex’s protector and he wants to thank her. Even if it meant keeping him away, Michael knows Alex is kept safe and loved. Even if it can’t be by him.

And whose decision was that?

The thought pounded in his head on repeat for the next three days.

He never stops.

It’s in the bunker, because of course it is. Just the two of them, Isobel’s stupid sign on the wall and a lab coat that no doubt belongs to Kyle thrown over a chair. They had been looking at something on the computer again, Michael leaned in too close as he tried to memorize everything he could.

He never gets to touch, not anymore, so his eyes are always hungry. It’s not sexual, at least not always, tonight he’s fascinated by the way Alex’s hair is in disarray. Frustrated hands running through it with every other click of the keyboard. Michael wants to replace them with his own, soothe the dark cloud Alex is giving off. Put fingers to tense shoulders and dig in.

He fights it, because that’s all he does around Alex anymore. Torture himself by looking and beat down the part of him that wants to do something about it.

Finally they gave up, Michael tried to make some stupid joke that failed miserably at being funny. Alex just lifts a corner of his mouth, like he appreciated Michael for even trying.

They both reach to grab Michael’s jacket at the same time, hands brushing for a moment, eyes locking in surprise.

With them, that’s all it takes. Match to gasoline and everything burns around them. Alex biting into his mouth, pushing him against the table, stealing his breath and his heart. He whimpered, because it’s them and he never thought he’d get this again. Wouldn’t let himself ask for it.

But the sound snapped Alex back to reality, made him lean away and fingers slipped from their grip in Michael’s hair. The sudden cold that slipped over him made his bones hurt.

“Michael, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“I love you.”

Alex stilled, hands squeezing hard where they rested on Michael’s arms. Alex doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to. His face is awe struck, his eyes bright. They both know, they’ve always known, they’ve just never said it.

Why had they never just said it?

But this time maybe it isn’t enough, maybe it’s too late and they didn’t figure it out in time. Maybe he’d let Alex push him far enough away that Michael hadn’t found his way back in time. Maybe they’d…

Then Alex is on him again, just as intense, just as needy but gentle, almost reverent. He’s unbuttoning Michael’s shirt, brushing their noses together..

“I love you.” Michael can taste it on his tongue.

“I love you.” It hums through his blood.

“I love you.” It’s whispered into his mouth.

“We’re going to talk, okay. After.” Michael can only nod in agreement as his shirt is pushed off his shoulders, as teeth drag at his lip and he’s welcomed home.

[some-mad-lunge]

It Is Not Goodbye

She had forgotten who she is, who she was, everything over the endless stream of time. Everything but him. Years ago she had been thankful when she didn’t sense him, hoped against all possibility that he was safe, that they were safe. That he was a star’s path away from here.

She hid from her pain by remembering his smile. She lived two lives in tandem, the one she imagined for her son, the reality she was stuck with. She heard his laugh, she wiped his tears and eventually she forgot which was real.

It’s endless and bleak, a caged animal. If only they knew, I’d only they could make these humans understand why. But they’d never deserved it, they had been wrong to come. So very very wrong.

She knows she will die here, one day, everyday. She knows. She welcomes it, and she thinks of him.

There is so little of her left she doubts it will be much longer, her thoughts of him, her dreams of him, the only thing that keeps her going.

I love you.

She senses him, like a flame in a black hole, a beacon. She thinks it’s death finally, what she’s hoped for all this time, and it’s him that will end her suffering.

My boy, I love you.

Until she sees those eyes, his father’s eyes, so clear and confused she is certain she is finally gone. Until she feels it, his anguish, his agony, his love. He is frantic and for the first time she is at peace, for she can give him something, the only thing she ever had to give him. He is alive. He is broken, but he is alive.

My boy.

She calls him, presses her hand to the cage that has become her eternity and begs him to look at her. Please, please.

The moment they connect she breathes for the first time in millennia.

She takes it all, the pain and the fear, the moments of loneliness. He has known so much she would have died to shield him from. Still he has known love, real pure love and he is alive. Still so strong, more than she could have ever hoped he would be. He is perfect.

My precious, perfect boy.

She uses what little she has, shows him who she was, who he was. The joy and the laughter, the soft touch of her hand through his curls. The gentle hum of her voice when his eyes filled with tears. Everything she feels for him, everything he is to her, she gives to him.

I love you. I have always loved you. I will always love you.

Run.

The tether snaps, and she loses him again, loses the piece of herself she gave to him. She has always been with him, he will always be with her. Time and death have no power to change it. She wants to reach through the cage and hold him tight, just one more time.

Those eyes, she memorizes them, holds them in her view as he goes. She repeats the words, over and over until she knows he’s safe, until it’s over. She is always with him, he is always with her.

I love you. I love you. I love...

[some-mad-lunge]

First mornings

I’ve drunk some rum and decided to write my first Malex ficlet. It’s for @dramaticcowboyangst and her lost lipstick.

**********

He doesn’t know how long he’s been awake but he’s thankful he is. Michael gives off a lot of heat, it’s like being wrapped in glowing embers as the sun starts to lighten the sky.

He aches, the good kind, the kind that has nothing to do with his leg and everything to do with the teenage dream laying beside him. He hasn’t slept with anyone since before he went away. Since before he lost part of his limb and the confidence the uniform had instilled once upon a time. He’d come home less of a man, believing his father’s words for the first time in his life. He wasn’t enough, he wasn’t whole.

Yet he’d thought nothing of it, letting Michael strip him naked and lay him bare. They’d laughed when his jeans got caught on his prosthetic. It had to be the first time Alex had ever forgotten it was there, that he wasn’t complete. Forgot the phantom sensation. Forgot everything but Michael's lips and Michael’s skin. Michael’s hair beneath his fingertips, need and muscle pining him down, filling him up. Forgot that it had been years and not moments since they’d been like this together.

When it was over he was floating, slow kisses on his neck and whispered words he couldn’t really make out but understood nonetheless.

It was the same, the heat and the comfort. They’d always been giddy when together like this. Like they couldn’t believe it was happening. It just made it all the more sweet, another memory to lock away.

He doesn’t know if he should stay. Even if he was able to slip out quietly, which was impossible with his leg, he can’t bring himself to walk away. They’ve never had this. Never woken up together. Never shared dry sweat and soft snores, he wants to soak up every moment.

He locks it away, another daydream to hold tightly, to carry him through. This man, this moment, this morning. That feeling of being whole and complete, worthy in his own skin. The feeling only Michael ever gave him, the one he thought he’d imagined after years of loneliness and war.

This morning, this warmth. Michael.

No longer the boy he had loved. He had grown, his battle scars not hidden like Alex’s but deep within the depths of those eyes. Shielded by that smirk that told him everything he needed to know. War could be fought at home, could take more than just flesh and bone.

Michael Guerin, still his dream, even after all this time. But he’s wide awake and he’s here, doesn’t want to miss another moment. He decides to kiss him awake, leans down to press his lips to soft skin, wants sleep hazy eyes to look up into his.

I never look away. Not really.

[some-mad-lunge]

this image that michael has created of himself and let the world see and believe about him, pls sweet boy. YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH, MICHAEL GUERIN. someone needs to scream this at him constantly jfc. I can feel him suffering in your words and i am HURTING, pls make it stop. Alex letting him scream and then trying to find a way to help, not letting him hurt alone, i am FINE okay. Alex quieting his mind, PLS SHAUNA. Alex giving him whatever he needs unconditionally, STOP. why are they KILLING ME skds

[some-mad-lunge]

michael quietly caring for alex, i am FINE (i am not fine). oh god, alex still knows him so well, heeeeeelp. michael's internal voice calling alex the love of his life, cool cool cool. THEY AREN'T MY FAMILY. why are you hurting me in the best way, shauna, WHY. guhhh the simple comfort they find in each other is SO GODDAMN GOOD. it's one of my favorite things about them and you captured it PERFECTLY in that fic. bless you bless you bless you. okay moving on to fic no.2... oh god the 1st sentence.

[some-mad-lunge]

hello i am here to liveblog into your inbox while i read your mgweek fics, pls sit back and enjoy - - before i even start the first one: ONE OF MY FAVE TROPES TOO, I AM BUCKLED IN AND READY TO GO - - okayokay, starting... alex's reaction to michael, i can just PICTURE him pinching the bridge of his nose as michael is talking, that is TOO REAL, so good. guhhh our distracted alien, he can't concentrate on anything but alex yes plsss. OOH NAKED TROUBLES, my fave kind. THANKFUL FOR UNDERWEAR, bless.

I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS.

[some-mad-lunge]

shauna! all the fic you've been writing for MG week, you spoil us!!! i still need to reply to each of them individually with all the things you're making me think and feel, but pls know that every day when i see a new one pop up, i turn into full seal mode and start clapping and rolling around in my bed, just a bundle of pure joy bc of you. thank you!! xx

Sweetie what a wonderful message to wake up to. I still get so nervous writing Roswell fic so thank you for the encouragement. Also the visual of this is making me laugh and I love it. And you! Thank you!