#suffering because he lost isobel. but now??

[poptartmochi]

the quest for claudia's birthday takes me to strange and unknown places

[happy-beeeps]

Naïveté

Summary: Astarion begins to reconcile with the fact he might have fallen for you, only to worry you've caught an interest in someone else. Earllllllly act 2, minor spoilers for act 2!

Pairing: Astarion x f!tav

Warnings/tags: fluff, miscommunication if you squint, jealous!astarion, platonic!wyll x tav, slightly ooc Astarion because I'm still learning to write him so be nice PLEASE😭🥺

WC: 2k

a/n: I'm finishing a character sheet for tav so we can have her backstory, but she's who I've been using this playthrough and I've been really enjoying her story. When I post on Ao3 she'll have a name, but I'm going to leave her unnamed here! Also, will have a seperate BG3 spot on my masterlist soon!

It’s late at camp, and by the time you finish indulging in a bottle of wine with Karlach, you figure you’re the only one still up. It’s been a long night, and an even longer few days, spent trudging through the grimy depths of the Shadowcursed lands and just barely making it out of the encounter with Marcus alive. Isobel had given you the ability to travel freely, but all you could do was set up camp near the inn.

The firelight is dim when you make your way back from the secluded spot near Karlach’s tent, and Astarion’s tent is sealed tightly. You contemplate going over, just peaking your head in to see if he’s deep in trance yet, but you change your mind. After your previous night’s conversation, you’re still not sure on speaking terms. It plays out over and over again in your mind. Naive, he’d called you, your heart was too big. 

You tried to be reasonable. You were naive. You were young, and perhaps no one but Wyll new exactly how young. To be ninety as an elf was to be just becoming an adult. No one else had known, no else had asked, including Astarion. You chalked it up to his truly immortal lifespan, he hadn’t cared about aging for 200 years, why start now?

Still, you couldn’t deny the pull you felt to him, or the thrill that shook your bones when he would quietly rush into your tent each morning, murmuring the incantation for lesser restoration. You still thought of the way he looked at Gale when he asked to consume that locket all those days back. “I’m glad you let him suffer for a moment, darling,” he’d murmured into your ear that night, his breath tingly on your neck, “That one’s ours.”

There’d been other nights since your first night together, while you hadn’t slept together in completion since, all passion and teeth and sweat. Sometimes you’d just kiss him, wrapped up in nothing else but this bliss of arms and scent. Lately though, he’d been closed off—distant. His conversation the previous night had come out of nowhere, as if you were standing on the doorstep of Moonrise Towers that very instant. 

You were so lost in your own thoughts, consumed of Astarion, that you nearly missed Wyll’s form standing near the dimming fire, moving around in a dance you actually recognized.

“I hope I’m not interrupting practice,” you smiled, giving the man ample warning before you stumbled into his rehearsal. 

Wyll wheeled on you, a faint blush growing across his cheeks. “It’s one of those old courting dances, it’d be a cold day in the hells before I’d ever forget them.”

“Oh I’m quite familiar,” you murmured, thinking back to your own youth, your own debutante ball, before you lost everything. “Everyone else around here forgets I come from taste.”

Wyll snorts, “Sure don’t smell like it.”

Your friendship with Wyll is a special thing. No one else can understand what it felt like to be from a Noble family, the expectations and the experience it comes with. When your family had been killed and their wealth assumed, you were completely on your own. Learning how to pickpockets and lie had not been a part of your expensive and tasteful education.

Dancing, however, came second nature.

You move to stand in front of him without really thinking, decades of experience guiding your motions. “Go on, let’s see what you can do.”

He’s a fine partner, moving cautiously around you and guiding your hand easily. Even when he brings you closer for a slightly more intimate dance, his hands nor his eyes never stray. 

“I wonder what I’d have done if I ever saw you at one of the balls my father sent me too.” He murmurs.

“I’m certain you did. Though you would’ve been young. I haven’t been in nearly a decade.”

He chuckles, and clucks his tongue for a moment, “Just practically a baby, far to young to approach Fey nobility.” Before bowing in front of you and wishing you goodnight. There’s the smallest beat where he looks at you as if he has something to say. You look at him for the smallest moment. It would be so easy to love him, if you were anyone else. He’s exactly who your father would have picked for you, save his humanity. But, despite it, you can’t. You can’t fake the flutter you get when you Astarion’s cold hands tickle your fingers, or the tickle of his hair on your cheek when he’s pressed against your neck. You’re not naive enough to admit this to Astarion, but from the fleeting glance you send to his tent, you can see that Wyll already knows. He leaves you with a knowing glance and a soft goodnight. You go back to your own tent, happy to have removed the thought of the curse, of Ketheric, and even of your own problems for just a moment.

So full of contentedness in fact, you don’t notice the scarlet eyes peering at you from the slat of their tent, a whirlwind of emotions cascading over them.

* * *

Astarion doesn’t hide his mild disdain for Wyll, or anyone to be fair, to begin with, but the following morning he bears down on the man like an ogre. “I didn’t anticipate you being quite so light on your feet. The Blade stands at the ready, and also ready to pirouette, I suppose?”

Wyll rolls his eyes at Astarion’s quip, used to the sarcasm, but somewhat surprised at the intensity of the rogue’s grip on his arm. “Wasn’t aware I couldn’t have past times.”

“By all means feel free to entertain us with a ballet in between slaughters,” his voice hushes as you walk by, looking at the two men skeptically, “I’d just prefer if your duets didn’t happen whilst I’m trying to read.”

Wyll follows Astarion’s slightly fleeting to his retreating gaze. You’re standing behind him, out of earshot, leaning against Lae’zel’s tent while she sharpens your sword. Astarion’s stare is enough to allow him to piece everything together. “Can I give you a word of advice?”

“Only if you accept that I may ignore it entirely.”

“She’s wonderful. And she’s made her choice without giving anyone else a chance. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste it, wouldn’t kill you to get to know her.”

Wyll walks away, and Astarion is left alone again with his thoughts. Contrary to Wyll’s belief, he thinks it might actually kill him to get to know you. He’s been balancing precariously on his fight to not let himself be fully consumed by you and your grace, your goodness. You were a spoilt little thing, he was sure of that, and he had meant what he said that night by the water. It didn’t mean it hurt his chest more when your face fell. “Naive?” there was a crack in your cool, crafted facade. Genuine hurt had settled there for a moment, and something akin to disappointment. He hadn’t known how to face you since, hadn’t known how to say “I’m sorry! I’m falling for you and can’t help it and I’m terrified!”

So instead he said nothing at all, and resolved to say something later.

* * *

You had just gotten back to camp for the night, Karlach nearly giggling at the amount of gold she had stuffed in her pockets from the tollhouse. You had noticed Astarion’s eyes on you, heavy and pensive, when you had dealt with the Master of Coin, how easily you’d convinced her to simply cease to be. That was perhaps the easiest transition from nobility to rogue you had, the gift of a silver tongue and wide, batting eyes.

You changed into your camp clothes and watched Karlach throw gold pieces at an increasingly irritated Lae’zel, Gale standing nearby doing his best to keep spirits high in this eerie camp, working with whatever cured meats and cheeses you still had to attempt to make a dinner. You had changed into camp clothes and grabbed one of the books you had found in the tollmaster’s office, a shockingly smutty romance novel that had to be even older than you. It was quiet in the corner you found, somewhere even Halsin’s booming laugh had faded into quiet background noise. You tried to not think about your surroundings, about your increasing frustration with Astarion, or the odd way his gaze had hung on you all day. 

“I’m always impressed by that tongue of yours, petal.” The vampire’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and he settled beside you on the ground, arms behind him as he reclined easily next to you.

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and the pet name. “Yet you’ve been leaving me and my tongue to our thoughts the past few days.” You huffed, flipping the book to the next page, though not really reading any of it 

If Astarion could blush, he looked as if he would. “We’ve been a bit busy darling. I’ve been…strategizing.”

“Strategizing?”

“Precisely.”

The quiet overtook the two of you. After being so distant, if he didn’t want to come to you, then so be it. You could not—would not–crack first. He could not even begin to know the bubbling furnace of your feelings, or you’d be positively done for.

“How old are you?”

His question strikes you, strikes you enough that you set the book off to the side and face him. “At what point did you start to ask me questions?”

“When I realized I had done something to anger my favorite companion,” his fingers reach out and trace small patterns on your skin. “How old are you?”

“Ninety.” Your voice moves to a whisper at the end of the word, and his eyebrows quirk.

“Only ninety and yet alone. And Balduran?”

“Yes, but I haven’t lived there since I was seventy five.”

“Something happened,” he rocks upward, now sitting nearer to you. “You weren’t supposed to be like this.”

“Perhaps that’s why I’m so naive.” It comes out more bitter than you meant, but oh well. He deserved it.

“Naive wasn’t the right word,” he looks like he’s fighting himself to turn out the next sentence. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

You smile softly, laying a hand on top of his. “I don’t know if I believe that, but I appreciate the apology.”

He grins, his deep set smile lines settling in your favorite way. “Tell me about your childhood.”

You shrug, “There’s not much to say. I was an only child, an only daughter. I used to play the lyre, learn languages, paint–”

“You come from nobility.”

“I sort of thought it was obvious,” you shrug and tap your knee against his, “I wasn’t supposed to be out in the middle of a campground, much less learning the ways of a rogue.”

“What were you supposed to be?”

“A wife, I guess.”

“And while I’m sure suitors everywhere are devastated, I much prefer my rogue.”

My. You don’t say anything and neither does he. You let the word hang there, testing to see if he reaches back to grab it, but he doesn’t. It gets quiet for a moment after that, and you can see him spinning the illusion in his head. You, swathed in organza, spinning around a marble ballroom, entertaining suitors. 

“Is that why you danced with Wyll?”

“Ah,” you smile and rest your head on his shoulder. You love these fleeting moments of intimacy, where you can both pretend to be nothing more than lovers on an adventure. “So this was spurred by jealousy?”

“As if I have anything to be jealous over Wyll. He wishes he looked half as good as me.” His words lack their normal bite, and he turns his head softly, so he’s speaking quietly, just to you. “But perhaps in the future you’d let me take you for a spin.”

You press your hand against his on the ground. “You need only ask.”

“I’ll… keep that in mind.”

There’s so much more you both want to say, confessions on the precipice of both your minds, but you say nothing. You idle together a touch longer, hands resting against each other, pretending neither of you can get hurt, envisioning a world where it’s him spinning you across the dance floor in a world where you could have each other.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

The Words That Were Never Spoken (OC Re-Edit) - Chapter 9

[A HUGE thank you to @bethbruttenholm for co-writing this chapter. Primo is perfect and literally none of this would have gotten finished without all the help and encouragement!] ________________________________________________

Copia bursts through the Abbey doors out to the garden like a man escaping a fire. The cool air definitely helps a bit, clearing his head even a little. But the hurricane in his mind rages on and he grabs onto the low barrier fence keeping Primo’s vegetables safe from siblings and ghouls alike who might step on them. Nearly doubled over and gasping for breath, he just hopes he doesn’t throw up on them. Somehow, he suspects his oldest brother wouldn’t appreciate that either.

Too lost in his thoughts and panic, he doesn’t even notice anyone approaching. When he lifts his head, Primo is simply standing there, arms crossed and looking at him with a soft sigh.

He jerks his head toward the greenhouse, "Come on, then. I will put on a kettle for you."

Copia opens his mouth to answer but all that comes out is a pained sort of whimper. Still he follows. It's Primo, he's not sure he could say no if he tried. Wondering to himself if it's possible to suffer from hypoxia this close to sea level.

"Come, sit," Primo points a long finger at the sitting area near his workbench. Soon, he procures a massive tea tray and sets it on the coffee tables. He says nothing, makes Copia a cup and then himself one too before sitting down with a groan, crossing one elegant leg over the other, "What is wrong?"

Copia claims the chair quickly before he topples over, leaning his elbows on his knees and trying just to breathe. "I am an idiot and she will hate me now." He blurts without context.

"Who?" Primo asks - knowing full well who.

It takes a monumental effort to look up at his oldest brother and when he does, Copia looks every bit the mess that he feels, sitting on the verge of tears. It’s not a secret. Even he knows that. Terzo has been teasing practically from the first day he met her. "... You know. I know you know."

"Sweet boy," He smiles, "You wear your heart on your sleeve, like your brothers. Drink your tea. Tell me what happened."

Hot tea and his shaky hands. He cradles the cup in both just to try and keep it steady. "Isobel, she stays with me. You know this?"

"I know this, si."

"I ask her to stay with me. While they fix her room. She is my friend, I want to help." He sighs, staring into his cup, wishing there were answers at the bottom. "I don't make her sleep on the couch. I say I will take it. She says no. They are my quarters, she won't make me sleep on the couch for her. So... we share. My bed."

"So it is, close, then?" Primo asks, trying not to smirk, "But you are close with her, we know that, I do not see the issue."

"No, because I don't tell you yet." He sets down the cup and stands, starting to pace, wringing his hands. Desperately trying to keep his mind rushing back there, warm and comfortable, pressed up against him. Stop! "But I do something stupid and I don't know how to tell her because she was asleep and I don't mean to!"

"Copia, sit down. Sit down and tell me what worries you, so. Please. Sit down and talk." Primo waves him back to his chair.

He sits, legs still itching to move. It’s easier to not think about it when he moves. His thoughts already focused on his words and not tripping over his own feet.

"Tell me so I may help you, yes?"

"I wake up like... like the big spoon, and my hand on her... her..." He blushes deeper than his cassock. Not sure which part has him more upset. That he’d do something so inappropriate or that he’d enjoyed it. For that moment before he was thinking clearly. It felt so good. Like… being home.

"Your hand wanders in your sleep? To where? I will say, my hand is always wandering for Aviva. It is. A natural thing, I am thinking, for a man to want the woman he... is... close to." Primo says diplomatically.

His mind snaps back to the present and the truth beyond simply, mindlessly, taking his own pleasure. "She is my friend, Primo! I shouldn't be... be... feeling her up!"

"You bring this up to Isobel? Or did she wake to find you wandering?"

"No! No. I wake up first. I think to get away before she wakes and... I end up on the floor." The ache in his tail bone will be a reminder of that stupid move for a few days. As if he needed one.

"I do not want to... seem like I am brushing off the hands thing, Copia. But I think you are thinking too hard, hm? You sleep. It was an accident... it is not like you wanted it, no? You did not do it out of... need, I am sure!"

The out is there and he can see it, but the thought of taking it makes his stomach twist uncomfortably. Copia whimpers again and drops his face into his hands."... And if I do want it? What then?"

Primo smiles then, "Love is good, isn't it? Right down to the marrow you feel it."

"It is good when you love someone and they love you. It is... torture when it is just you loving." His voice nearly cracks.

"Oh, Copia... my littlest one. You are supposed to be the smart one. You are thinking you are the only one doing the loving? You are thinking that she does not feel the same way?"

"I ask for a sign and nothing. And she is... she is her. And I am... Look at me, Primo. I am nothing. I am lucky she is my friend. I hear what people say." Copia’s shoulders slump and he drops his gaze to the floor. Just some old pervert. A creep. Weirdo. For so long he’d been waiting for Izzy to realise they were right and leave.

"Well, that is wrong - let me get that out of the way very quickly. You are Copia. You are... the kindest, smartest man I have ever known. And you know, I hear what they say, Copia. They say 'you see him mummy thrusting and dusting?' or 'you see what he does to that microphone?' So let us get that straight, hm? And you say, I ask for signs. What more signs you are needing? She is there, in your bed." He chuckles softly.

"Because her quarters are flooded and she is too nice to tell me to sleep on the couch." He offers a little weakly.

"You ask our Dark Lord for a sign and what happened? There is the great love of your life, standing before you? Sopping wet?"

"No, no, I was only going to get her for breakfast. She is not in the dining hall first, so I get her. We always do this." Copia sighs. "I don't ask anyone to flood her room. The last time I ask anything, is my prayers before sleep. I don't even get to finish... she interrupts me." He cringes at that memory as well. "Even then, I am taking advantage. And, again, she is sleeping."

"I am going to ignore the fact that you cannot even start your day without her, yes? That is just," he flicks his hand past his ear, "I am ignoring. You ask for a sign and she what? She is there?"

“I always eat with her!” He catches how weak that defence is after he’s already said it. Trying to clear his throat at start again, a little more confidently. “She is sleeping, next to me. And I can’t sleep… because she is next to me. So I say a prayer, I start to ask for a sign, and she interrupts me rolling over. I don’t even try to stop her sleeping on me. She puts her head on my chest and I can’t… I can’t make myself wake her up, or move her. I am stealing cuddles like the creep they call me!”

"You ask for a sign. She... She puts her head on your chest. Copia." Primo sighs.

“She interrupts me asking for a sign!”

"I say what Terzo says to me, si? Say it, again. But slower."

“I am asking for a sign, si? She rolls over, interrupting. I don’t even finish my prayer.”

"I am telling you now, as your Papa and big brother. You should tell Isobel this."

Copia gapes at him looking sick. "She will kill me, Primo! She never trusts me again!"

"I think you are wrong about that."

"What do I say? Isobel, you know how you trust me to share the bed. Turns out I feel you up while you are sleeping and I am hard against your back."

"You say this, are you ready?"

"WHAT? NO!" He yelps.

"No, you goose. I say are you ready, Copia? You panic worse than Secondo. I say, you say to her, I love you. That is all of it."

"And if she says no? Then what?” His throat tightens uncomfortably and his eyes itch and burn, threatening to ruin his paints with tears. “At least, like this... I have something. It is better than nothing."

Primo shakes his head and takes a long sip of tea, "I do not think that will happen," he sings.

"Because you have a beautiful wife who loves you."

"I do, don't I?"

The door to the greenhouse flies open and Copia practically jumps out of his skin. Terzo rushes in followed by an annoyed looking Secondo. Or, maybe it's a happy looking Secondo. He has trouble telling the difference. He can guess at why Terzo is there, Secondo is less clear, although he suspects Terzo insisted.

"Primo! I swear I don't make him cry! We are kidding together! That's all! Only kidding!" Terzo starts his own defence immediately.

Primo lets out a long, dramatic sigh, "Water is still hot," he motions towards the tray.

"Oh. I'm not in trouble. Good!" His usual smile slides right back into place. "Because, as I am saying, I don't do anything wrong."

Secondo snorts and takes a seat next to Copia. "I believe that as much as I believe you teach a pig to sing." He offers flatly.

"I-I am actually trying to talk to Primo..." Copia says, trying to hint at the need for privacy.

Terzo waves the comment away, flopping into an empty chair. "Yes, yes. You need brother advice, no? Now you have three brother advice. Even better!"

Primo watches Copia for a moment, "I tell them to go."

He slumps in his chair a little and shakes his head. "They hear it anyway. And Terzo will make fun no matter what."

Terzo gasps. "I would never!"

"At least pretend you don't think anyone is so stupid, Terzo." Secondo crosses his arms and stares at his younger brother. He pouts in return, not having a defence but not ready to admit wrongdoing either.

"I was just telling Copia that I am thinking that if he is having feelings for someone, he should tell them." Primo cuts the two of them off.

"I knew it!" The offence drops from Terzo's face like it was never there to begin with. Replaced with a sly grin. "Your friend, si?"

"She is my friend!" Copia snaps back, an edge on the words from having said them so many times.

"I thought she is living with you now? She moves in, no?" For a man who's never seemed to take much interest in anyone around him, Secondo sounds surprisingly curious.

"No, no, she is staying because of the water in her room." Terzo clarifies.

"Really? You are with her a long time, Copia. And you don't ask her to move in?"

Copia decides to keep his comments about Secondo’s inexperience with anyone moving into his quarters to himself.

"They are not together-together. He says, again, they are only friends." Terzo offers, as if they’re catching up on the latest reality tv show.

Copia sinks further into his chair, begging the Old One to drag him directly into the pit and away from this. Anything, really, that means not having to sit there one moment longer.

Primo holds up his hand, "You are helping approximately zero. Copia, tell them what you tell me. About your signs."

"Maybe you just kill me. Secondo, I am annoying, no? You kill me quick and I never annoy you again." He looks over at his older brother, pleading.

He smirks. "It is tempting."

"No killing." Primo warns.

"Then you tell us." He shrugs.

"I tell you, it is nothing. I am in bed and Izzy, she is asleep beside me…" Please, kill me now, Copia begs silently.

"Beside? I thought you only have that little tiny bed." Terzo raises a brow.

"We share."

"You share?"

"Si."

"You share your tiny bed?" Terzo’s brow furrows.

"Si."

"Together?"

"Si, Terzo! What is complicated? I don't make her sleep on the couch and she refuses when I say I sleep there. So we share! You can share a bed and not fuck." Copia snaps at him.

"You can do both."

“Terzo,” Secondo interrupts. “Shut up.”

He huffs and pouts, but he does shut up.

"I tell Primo already. She is asleep, I am not asleep, so I... I make a prayer for the evening, and I... ask for a sign." Copia turns a shade of red darker. "I try to. But she interrupts me. She rolls over and I don't even try to stop her! I should wake her and tell her, but... I don't. And she sleeps almost on top of me. She puts her head on my chest."

Terzo and Secondo both sit in stunned silence staring at their little brother like he just sat in one of Primo’s planters and declared himself a geranium.

"I know! I know! I should have told her! I take advantage while she is sleeping!" Copia throws up his hands in surrender, waiting for their ire and judgement.

“Well? What do you say, brothers? Hm?” Primo asks.

"Sei un idiota." Secondo sighs and rubs his face.

"What he said." Terzo agrees.

“I think he must tell her. His feelings.”

"At least that she does that herself." Copia mutters to himself, barely listening to the three of them.

"There was more?" Terzo blinks at him.

"I don't mean to! I go to sleep last night. No funny business. I just go to sleep, I swear! But I wake up this morning like the big spoon and my hand is... It wanders in my sleep." His voice gets a bit shrill in his panic. Even he can hear it.

"You mean you..." Terzo holds up his hand, deadly serious, and makes a very clear honk honk gesture.

"I don't honk! There is no honking!" He rushes to explain. "I am only holding!"

“I tell him it is not so much a big deal. How many times has Aviva woken up with my hands on her? Hm? And still I sleep soundly. The woman you love, Copia? It is no big thing.” Primo reassures him.

"Aviva is your wife! Isobel is my friend!"

Terzo gives Secondo a smug sort of smile. "I tell you."

Secondo doesn't respond. He simply digs a twenty out of his wallet and passes it over.

Primo leans forward, “I tell you this, if I had Aviva like you had Isobel?” He clucks his tongue and shakes his head, “I knew the second I saw her, I belonged completely to her. I would not have survived two weeks the way you have survived these years. Tell her.”

"I tell you already, Primo." He slumps again. "I can't lose her. If I tell her and she says no.... I throw myself off the roof."

“YOU PEOPLE ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS - oh,” Aviva appears, stuttering and stumbling over her words as soon as she sees Copia, “Hi, Cope.”

Copia jumps again, starting to accept the idea that his family is trying to kill him. "No one in this family knows how to knock!"

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, making herself a cup of tea.

"We don't believe what?" Terzo looks over at her curiously. It’s no secret that Primo and his wife are shameless gossips and Aviva is always picking up juicy stories.

Aviva straightens and clears her throat, turning and staring at Primo’s lap or the chair beside him, “They’re. Having… spaghetti. Again.”

"Riveting." He smirks, not believing that lie for a single second. "Primo, you need to take your wife out more, if this is what excites her."

“Oh, he excites me plenty,” she says as he makes the seating decision for her, pulling her onto his lap.

"Copia is just telling us he is a secret pervert." Terzo explains.

Copia immediately looks panicked. "No! No, no, no! I don't say that! I don't mean to! I tell you this!! Primo, tell her is not true!"

“Is not true, Aviva. He is not a pervert, he’s in love.”

“Oh. Oh… I mean. Oh! That’s wonderful,” she clears her throat, “Who the lucky lady?”

"... you know who it is." He shoots a look at Terzo. "Someone never shuts up about it."

"Isobel.” Terzo doesn’t look ashamed in the least.

“Oh. Really? That’s crazy. I never saw it coming.”

Primo stares up at Aviva, confusion smeared across his face, “What are you talk -,” he shuts up when he gets an elbow to the chest.

“You should,” Aviva puts her teacup to her lips, “you should tell her.”

What is there left to lose? Copia sighs deeply. "I try... last night. I say it out loud, finally, and... I turn around and she is asleep. On the couch."

Secondo does a passible job at turning a snort into a cough.

“I, uh. I think she’d like to hear that,” Aviva says, her eyes meeting Terzo’s, “I know she would.”

Terzo stares hard at her, trying to read her mind.

"You and Primo think everyone falls in love so easy." Copia huffs.

“Sometimes it’s just,” Aviva breaks her gaze with Terzo to stare at Secondo, “when two people love each other mutually it’s as easy as that. As easy as saying it out loud.”

Primo pats Aviva’s thigh, “We did fall in love easy, you have to admit.”

"I am so happy for you." Copia says, an edge of sourness in his voice, as he scuffs his shoe against the floor. "I finally find a good moment and she falls asleep."

“I mean,” Aviva takes another long sip of tea, “If ever you needed a sign consider me telling you to march up there and tell her the sign.”

"You wait three years for a good moment? What are you waiting for that is so special??" Terzo looks at Copia with a slightly worrying look in his eye. Like he can’t quite process the idea of not just blurting out his feelings as soon as he feels them and handing over his heart without hesitation.

"Just... we have dinner, wine, comfortable, si? And she tells me sit on the floor, so I sit on the floor. I am in the archives all day and my neck is hurting, she knows. She always knows. So she rubs my neck and tells me play a game. So I play my game. She fixes my neck and my shoulders and she asks if I have a headache. A small one. So she rubs my head." He wants to talk about it wistfully, but it comes out a little sad. "I don't know... it was just... nice. So I say it. Out loud and nothing. So I turn around and she is sleeping on the couch." His eyes flick between his brothers and his sister-in-law. "What??"

"It's awfully romantic," Aviva sighs.

Terzo blinks a few times. "She rubs your neck... and your head?"

"It does not matter what she is rubbing," Primo shakes his head, "You tell her. That is all."

"When she's conscious," Aviva grins.

"She rubs your head and you think... Copia!" Terzo isn't ready to let it go. "Sei sicuro che siamo imparentati?" 

Copia doesn't answer Terzo, crossing his arms and pouting."I am so glad it is so easy for all of you." He says quietly, bitterness barely hidden in his words. "Stupid, foolish Copia is a joke again."

Aviva moves from Primo's lap to the arm of Copia's chair and Primo whines a little. She kisses the top of Copia's head, "What makes you," she clears her throat, "What makes you think Izzy doesn't feel the same way?"

Secondo leans forward and smacks the side of Terzo's head. "Chiedi scusa." 

Terzo looks like he has something to snap at his older brother but bites his tongue, offering a quiet "Scusa, fratellino."

Copia doesn't look up at Aviva, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. "I am only her friend...." He sighs and stands up, walking over to look at a plant he couldn't name if he tried. But it's far enough away from the others to get a little space.

"She deserves someone better. And I know, you tell me no. It is not so. But I hear what people say. I am the creep. I am awkward with people. I like stupid things no one cares about. I don't know why she wants to be my friend even, and I am supposed to think she loves me? It is ridiculous. She is... perfect. I call for assistance one day and she comes. Not like the others. She comes down to the archives and she helps without needing everything explained. She is interested and smart, she knows things and when she doesn't she asks me. A week she comes, every day, to help and to talk. Not just work. Talking. Then she finds me in the hall and wants to sit with me. No one sits with me but she comes to sit and talk more. Real friends. Not just I want to fuck her and be done. She is my friend, I don't lie about this. Every day I think she will be gone. She will find someone better, more interesting. But still she comes back. So I give my prayers, my gratitude for whatever I do to deserve this." He almost forgets anyone is listening to him ramble. Most people cut him off before he ever gets this far and if he thinks too hard about them listening, he’d never say anything so… vulnerable. "And what? I ask for more now? Because she has bad luck and she needs a place to stay? And if it is no, I don't just lose her, she will go. Seestor will find her a room, I think. But I offer her a place and then tell her this is the price? What does that make me? I know, is very funny that I worry for everything, but this is not some Sibling you decide to bring home for a night or someone from the club who follows you home. It is not so little a thing to lose. It is years of her there. I don't know how to say oh it will be okay. I just tell her and we live happily ever after."

He has to pause, just to keep his voice from cracking. He’s made enough of a fool of himself without adding to the list.

"Like saying I do this and maybe the sun doesn't rise in the morning. I don't even know what to do with myself if she says no. She knows my schedule more than I do. Half the time I get a message from her to remind me. She never complains about my terrible movies. I forget to eat without her. In the morning she is waiting in the dining hall with food and coffee. Satanas, this morning she even does my paints because my hands are shaking and she sees me struggle."

He finally stops, trying to relax his hands, balled into tight fists. Getting himself all worked up again. Terzo keeps quiet, awkwardly trying to hide his embarrassment behind an aloof expression, looking anywhere but at Copia or the others.

"Copia." Secondo takes a breath and looks over at his youngest brother. "Everything you just say, what she does, how she is, even staying with you, in your... very tiny bed... She already tells you she loves you. Many times, I think. Every day. Not in words, but she tells you. She knows your schedule because she wants to know about your day. She likes your shit movies because you like them. She makes sure you eat and she learns your coffee. She does your paints. She is screaming it at you for years, fratellino. You are not hearing, I think."

Copia blinks at him for a long moment, trying to process what he said and that he said it in the first place. "No-no... She is just... She is being nice. A good friend."

"And she is nice for other people? Like this?"

"I... She must, si?"

"For who, Copia? Who else is she so nice for?"

Terzo stares at him, just as stunned. "When do you start being insightful?"

"I am always insightful. You just don't pay attention." Secondo huffs.

Copia leans against Primo's workbench, looking a bit winded and confused. Everything he's sure he knows slipping through his fingers. A thousand thoughts all screaming in his head at once. Every memory waiting to be scrutinised for the things he missed. Struggling to believe that he could have missed so much, and that even Secondo noticed before he had.

"I know you my whole life. You just tell me I am being stupid and hit me." Terzo complains, oblivious to his little brother’s ongoing crisis.

"You are being stupid and you need a smack. Often." Secondo smirks.

Aviva snorts, "I didn't know we could smack him."

Primo, eyes on his littlest baby brother, stands and makes his way over to Copia, leaning his back against the workbench, shoulder to shoulder, folding his arms, "We are hearing you, Copia, you know this? I say go tell her, I say it is no big deal to say it. But I see you and I hear you. And I understand you. I know it is scary... it is terrifying. But Secondo is not wrong - as much as it pains me to praise him so much - he is not wrong."

Secondo glances over, looking distinctly smug.

"... It is terrifying." Copia says finally. "If... if he is right, then I am an idiot. And I have wasted so much time. But also... then everything changes. I don't know how it changes, but it changes."

"And we will be here to help you navigate it," Primo says, pushing his shoulder against Copia’s, "Or at least, be incredibly nosy."

He can't help a tiny smirk. "I know this. You are, always."

"No, no," Primo grins, "I am not nosy. I am simply concerned."

"Yes, and I am not anxious. I just plan for the end of the world." Copia snorts.

Terzo laughs, glad the focus has shifted off him for once. "You? Not nosy? Next you say this is not your greenhouse."

"I am concerned," Primo corrects Terzo, "Aviva is nosy."

"I am," she winks.

"You both are. The worst kind of nosy." Terzo asserts.

"The point," Secondo interjects. "Copia, is you come to a decision and calm down or you end up having a stroke."

His face immediately turns a deep shade of red and his eyes drop back down to his shoes. Mumbling softly. "She sleeps in my bed, in my old shirts... I already have one.... more than one."

Aviva snorts her tea, hacking and choking while Primo stares at Copia. Terzo blinks at his little brother, not even sure where to start with that. And Secondo sighs, rubbing his forehead.

Primo clears his throat and nods, not sure if he's reassuring himself for Copia, "It is... you know, it is a natural thing. A... eh... stroke."

"Avere un’ictus, Copia."

"..................... oh." Fuck.

"She is sleeping in your shirt???" Terzo blurts out. "In your tiny bed???"

"Her room is flooded! I don't make her sleep naked! Then I have a stroke and a stroke."

Recovering, Aviva looks up at Primo and then Copia, "Well, certainly she wouldn't have known you were having a stroke."

Primo gives her a what the hell kind of question is that look.

Copia visibly winces. ".... I say her name. I don't mean to but... In the shower and it echoes. She comes to see what is wrong. I... I remind her about Seestor calling. I can't think of anything else to say!"

Terzo does a much worse job of covering his laugh with a cough. "Is this before or after you are feeling her up in your sleep?"

"I can't this morning. She is in the bathroom when I shower. So we are not both late." Copia buries his face in his hands.

Primo clucks his tongue at Terzo and then eyes Aviva, "Copia it is no thing, still. You have not done any of this maliciously. I do not know if you have a malicious bone," Primo gives Terzo a don't start glare, "In your body."

Aviva gazes at Copia - chewing on her lip, wondering if she should just spill the beans and end his suffering, "He's right, Cope. There's no guilt in anything you've said you've done. And there's no shame in loving her."

"Of course I don't want to hurt her. Not ever.” He forces himself to look at Primo. “But... Satana, aiutami, she scratches my head last night and... her fingers are blessed by the Old One, I swear to you."

Terzo smirks. "She turns you down, I think I ask her out again. Maybe this time she says yes."

Copia shoots him a dirty look. "You have better luck asking out the statues in the garden."

"You are going to get more than a smack," Primo says to Terzo, "But I say, this Copia. That reaction there? You see that rage? I know it and I know it well. When another gets too close to her. That will not change - whether you tell her or not, I think."

He sighs and nods. "I know.... That, that Brother Nicholas who thinks he is so pretty. He talks to her, gets too close. Always bothering......... I send him to assist Nihil. For a month."

Terzo throws his head back and cackles. "So much for no malicious bone!"

"Just for a month?" Primo grins, "You are remembering Brother Patrick?"

"Si."

"Well, you have not seen him for a while?"

Copia pauses, trying to think of when he’d seen him last. ".... No. I don't think."

"Because he is in Iowa."

"You send him to Iowa?" He looks a little surprised.

"Who is Brother Patrick?" Aviva arches an eyebrow.

"Si, I send him straight to Iowa. You know why? He could not take his eyes off of my wife's ass."

Copia finally breaks and laughs. "Is a very good ass."

Aviva grins, cheeks turning pink, gazing at Primo, "I will send you to Iowa too, baby brother or not."

"I don't stare! You want me to say is not a good ass?" He puts his hands up, backing down from that threat immediately.

"Okay, okay," Aviva laughs, "Enough about my ass."

"….. His name is Primo." Copia says softly with a sneaky wink.

"Oh, you are funny now?" Primo cannot help but grin, seeing Copia's sparkle shine a bit once more.

"I am always funny." He nudges him. "... Fine. I will talk to her. I will."

Terzo still looks a bit stunned, staring at Copia. "She is sleeping in your tiny bed with you, in your shirt. I don't know how you don't say anything before."

"Not everyone needs a constant fuck, Terzo."

"What you need is a bigger bed." He suggests.

"I can order you one," Aviva adds, "I have that power."

Copia expression turns panicked all at once. "No! No. I... I keep the bed. For now."

Secondo smirks over at Aviva. "He gets a bigger bed, she sleeps further away."

"Oh," she nods, all of it coming together now; she grins at Secondo, perhaps not realising how unhinged she looks, "Of course."

He raises a brow but doesn't ask. It’s a lesson everyone learns in this family at one point or another. Sometimes it’s better to not know. Often the reasoning with any Emeritus is terrifying at best.

"I say this, sleep on it," Primo returns to his seat, hooking his finger at Aviva. She returns to his lap, focusing on the cuff of his shirtsleeve, fiddling with the button, "In your little bed, or perhaps the guest room, if you'd like. But rest. Do not go head first."

Aviva gazes at Primo as he gives the same advice she did.

"Si." Copia agrees softly. "You don't tell her though, si? Any of this?"

"We would never," Primo says, "Absolutely."

"I will be planning a party to celebrate when you do," Aviva says, avoiding eye contact with Copia.

"I don't say anything." Secondo says firmly.

"I don't either." Terzo nods.

"Okie dokie... I go.... find something to keep busy." Copia sighs, certain there isn’t anything that could really distract him at this point.

He tries. He really tries. But Terzo can't hold it back. "Like have a stroke?"

Aviva's hand slaps over her mouth to keep from laughing, and Primo shakes his head, "You are a child, Terzo."

Secondo reaches over and smacks the back of his head.

"It is a little funny," Aviva whispers and then looks to Secondo, "Do not smack me."

Copia huffs at Terzo and shakes his head. "I use your office bathroom. Mine doesn't have one."

"You are always welcome," Primo nods.

He does, admittedly, feel less like the whole world is ending and the air seems to have returned. Those are good signs. Copia straightens his cassock and squares his shoulders. "All right. I go back to work. Grazie."

Aviva watches as Copia makes his way to the door. Terzo stands and she snaps, pointing at his chair, "Sit. Down." She whispers. The door shuts and turns back to her husband and his brothers, "You are not going to believe this shit...”

Too focused on everything that was said, everything he wants, needs to say, he doesn’t hear a word of it as he walks back across the garden toward the Abbey. There are still a few hours until the end of the day and he can guess where she probably is. Something he considers in a new light. The comfortable feeling of knowing she’s there.

Maybe, just maybe, there is some hope.

_________________________________________________________

Sei un idiota. - You're an idiot.

Sei sicuro che siamo imparentati? - Are you sure we're related?

Chiedi scusa. - Apologise.

Scusa, fratellino. - Sorry, little brother.

Avere un’ictus - a stroke (medical emergency)

[pastelwitchling]

Some malex morning fluff . . . angst . . . ish.

***

               Michael traced his fingers down the length of Alex’s nose. Alex scrunched his nose and burrowed his face deeper into Michael’s chest, his hold on his waist tightening even in his sleep. Michael smiled, the happiness of finally being back in bed with a sleeping Alex overwhelming enough to push aside the anger and fear that had been there since he’d first found out that Alex had been taken.

               Even a week after getting him back, Michael couldn’t push aside the memory of finding Alex there on that cave floor, barely alive. A day at the hospital and Alex had wanted to leave, but Michael hadn’t been able to feel completely reassured that he was okay, even after Kyle told him that aside from surface level cuts and bruises, he was fine.

               Most of the cuts had turned to faint red scratches now, but Michael still caught Alex wincing whenever he put weight on his leg, which was why he hadn’t been on his prosthetic in days. As Michael wrapped him in his arms now, he couldn’t help but remember the feel of Alex limp against him last week, the way he wouldn’t wake no matter how tightly Michael held him, no matter how much he’d cried into his hair, no matter how loudly he’d screamed and begged his love to open his eyes for him.

               He shuddered, pulling Alex in more tightly against him and sticking his face in his hair, breathing him in. Alex was safe. He was alive. Michael hadn’t worried whether or not his handprint would revive Alex as Max had done with Liz, but he hadn’t cared. He’d poured all the love he had into it, which had taken no effort at all, and the spaceship colors had spread all over Alex’s body, coating him completely. Before Michael had started to think that the power seemed stronger than even Max’s, Alex’s eyes had opened with a deep breath, confused and lost and frightened, reassured only when he saw Michael there, crying over him.

               “I love you,” Michael breathed into his hair, tightening his hold on him. “I love you I love you I love you.”

               “Hmm,” Alex murmured. He’d been like this since Michael had saved him; a heavier sleeper, stayed in bed longer than usual, and when he did wake up, he was disoriented and lost. Alex hated it, so he had let Isobel, who was the best at mindscapes of all of them, go into his mind and see what was wrong. She’d come out saying that Alex was still traumatized, despite claiming not to feel it, so his body was still making up for the mental and physical strain he’d been under.

               Michael had refused to let Alex out of his sights after that. The fact that Alex hadn’t argued that he didn’t need him to only cemented his fears. Alex was still suffering.

               If Michael, Max, and Isobel hadn’t already locked that woman away in one of their pods, he would’ve tortured her to find out exactly what she’d done to his boyfriend.

               Then Alex shifted and Michael was pulled out of his thoughts. He kissed the shell of Alex’s ear, then bent down and kissed his bare shoulder. He wanted to do something for him. He didn’t trust to go to the Crashdown to get them breakfast and be back before Alex woke up, but he wanted Alex to have more than a sandwich or just a cup of coffee as he’d taken to having before he buried himself in his work at Deep Sky.

               “I’m gonna make you breakfast,” he whispered into Alex’s neck before pressing another kiss there and smiling. “And it’s gonna be the best damn breakfast ever.” He grinned, kissed him again, and very, very carefully – because Alex was still Alex and would still wake up at the drop of a hat – stepped out of bed.

               He hesitated at the door, Alex’s back turned to him as he clutched the pillow Michael had put in his place, and used his powers to bring the blanket up to his chin. Smiling softly to himself, he left the room.

               *

               Alex was used to nightmares. He knew the ones that haunted him now were no worse than the ones that plagued his every day thoughts. Except they were, because this time, when he’d faced death, it had been with the knowledge that he and Michael were finally together, in the place where they’d been fighting to be, and that leaving this life meant leaving the man he finally got to have. It was worse torture than anything that woman could’ve put him through.

               That was why, when he woke up this time, suddenly and with a racing heart, he reached once again for Michael. But Michael was gone. In his place was a pillow that gave Alex no comfort. He looked around, but Michael wasn’t anywhere in the room. Panic crept in too quickly for his liking.

“Guerin?” he called, his voice hoarse. He should’ve reached for the glass of water on his nightstand, or rubbed his face and woken up properly before he started to worry, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want it. He just wanted Michael here, in front of him, in his arms.

He swallowed thickly and pushed himself up, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest already. He swung his legs off the bed, his fingers trembling. “Guerin?” He looked wildly around for his crutches. “Guerin!”

“Alex?” Michael ran in, eyes wide. Alex held out his arms desperately for him, but Michael was already closing the distance between them, pulling Alex in tight against him. Alex hugged him, his fingers trembling as he clutched fistfuls of Michael’s shirt.

“I’m right here,” Michael promised into his crown, one hand in his hair, the other rubbing his back. “I’m right here, baby.”

Alex’s eyes burned and he buried his face in Michael’s stomach. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

Michael hugged him tighter, shushing him softly. “Don’t be sorry, beautiful. Don’t be sorry.”

Alex shook his head, squeezing him. Michael was here in his arms, he told himself. He wasn’t hallucinating. This wasn’t another mind trick.

“She killed you,” he whispered, and Michael tensed. “I hoped it was really you every time . . . and then she’d murder you right in front of me . . . and I’d hope it wasn’t. I’d hope it wasn’t even though I begged you to wake up.”

“Shh,” Michael sounded angrier even as he did something as gentle as shush him. “I’m right here. I’m okay. You’re okay. No one’s touching you again, Alex, I promise.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “Just don’t – don’t disappear again, okay? I just need you to stay close to me, just – just for a while.”

Michael nodded, wrapping his arm tightly around Alex’s shoulders and rubbing his back more roughly, as if determined to leave a mark and prove to himself that Alex was safe, too. Alex welcomed the pain. It was a very present reminder that Michael was there.

After a very long few minutes, Michael murmured into his hair, “I made you breakfast.”

Alex huffed a wet laugh, and pulled back to grin softly at Michael. Then he said, “Can I eat it off you?”

Michael’s smile fell, eager as he quickly pulled off his shirt. “Well,” he said, already breathless as he straddled Alex, nudging his legs apart, “I did promise you best damn breakfast ever.”

And he pushed Alex back onto the bed, swallowing down his laughter.

[dr-lizortecho]

Western Christianity in RNM (Part Two)

Part One: Max and the Messiah (can be found here)

In contrast to Max representing and paralleling the Messiah, the show doesn’t flinch away from doing the same with Jones and the devil. Using the religious undertones and fear behind the fallen angel to depict the very character and trustworthiness of the dictator. The devil being used to further flesh out Jones’ role as an antagonist and villain. The biblical imagery behind his abilities and past pitting the character against the protagonists.

Jones rise as the dictator on the Oasis and the subsequent demolishing of his family and triad are used to parallel Lucifer’s fall. Creating the imagery of a lost soul willing to trade everything for a grasp at power. As Jones himself says in 3x02 “{the dictator} tortured my parents. The day he killed them a part of me died too”. Setting up what Jones was capable of even before the writers revealed that he was the ‘dictator’ and the ‘devil’. Furthermore, in 3x12 when Michael has access to Jones’ mind he claims Jones murdered his triad that “… you murdered your family for power” (John 8:44 … {the devil} was a murder from the beginning…).This concept of a ‘man’ destroying and forsaking his own family including his ‘father’ for the sake of power echoing easily against the story of Lucifer’s fall. The fallen angel reportedly forsook God because he made humans with more power and granted them dominion over the Earth. Jealousy and greed making the angel seek more power at the expense of his own people and God’s love (Jude 1:6 and angels who did not keep their own designated place of power, but abandoned their proper dwelling place… Isaiah 14:13-14 … {Lucifer} saying I will exalt my throne above the stars of God…). This grasp at power at the price of those closest to them and resulting in a ‘fall from heaven’, whether it be Lucifer being cast out or Jones crashing to Earth, uniting both figures.

In addition, the Oasis (and the dragon-fruit tree) are used to symbolize the Garden of Eden, the perfect world before the ‘fall of man’ which made the world belong to the devil and subsequently brought pain and suffering into the world. In that garden a serpent appears to Eve, one who deceives her into causing the fall (Genesis 3:1 now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field..). The devil having taken up the image of a serpent, much like Jones and his followers. As Noah informed Max in 1x13 “we are Ophichus Max! The man and the serpent. The serpent and the man. They’re not killing each other. They are one”. Since Jones had taken up the Ophichus imagery to represent himself and his place on the Oasis. He himself representing what Ophichus is, as pointed out by Clyde in 4x02 “Ophichus will rise again” referring to his triads attempts to resurrect Jones.

Furthermore, Jones much like the devil uses his abilities (healing and empathy) to manipulate the main cast. Throughout the first half of season three Jones uses his own abilities and knowledge of their home world to try and manipulate Isobel, Michael, and Max into trusting him. He does this to further his own needs and wants, so he can make Max’s body healthy and take it for his own benefit. This manipulation continues throughout his stay on the show, as he uses his cunning to try and get Liz to join him in 3x11 as well as to pit the main cast against each other during the events of 3x12. These traits of manipulation and cunning are shared with the devil, as he is claimed to have tricked Eve in the garden of Eden (Revelation 12:9 … as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness..). The devil is characterized by this continued trickery and manipulation (John 8:44 … when {the devil} speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources…). Jones attempts to use his cunning to make himself a sympathetic character, disguise himself as Max’s last hope and the answer to the main casts ‘prayers’.

In addition, to this cunning his attempt to make himself appear like Max parallels the devil’s attempts to appear good. The fact the characters share the same face, and Jones pretends to be Max from 3x05 to 3x07 used to communicate this idea to the audience. Because Jones shares the same physical appearance as the ‘savior’ (2 Corinthians 11:14 …Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light). The idea of Max and Jones being physically the same but different even foreshadowed by Isobel in 2x10 when she tells Max that “Louise said the devil would come. I think something evil was after them, but it wasn’t you”.

Lastly Max’s existence being for the destruction of Jones parallels the coming of the Messiah to defeat the devil. Like Nora created Max as a weapon against the dictator, God made his son flesh so he could overcome Satan (1 John 3:8 …the Son of God was manifested that He might destroy the world of the devil. Hebrews 2:14 …{the Messiah} might destroy him who had power of death, that is, the devil). Something Max accomplishes with the help of the main cast, killing Jones with part of his own sword, which Michael gives to him. Much like how the archangel Michael fights the dragon (the devil) in Revelations 12:7, and binds him in hell.

[kiss-my-freckle]

This is what Kevin said about Damon/Rose and John during season 2:

Kevin: Rose and Damon aren’t meant to be together. She is a mirror into his humanity. She came in, helped him out, gave him some information and is now saying, we’ll never love each other because you’re in love with Elena. It’s all about Elena – the whole point of Rose is to throw up a mirror and let Damon see what he is. She’s so open about Damon loving Elena. Rose is just one more step in Damon’s journey.

Kevin: John is a good bad guy. He brings up so much potential in terms of how ugly and mean and bad this lifestyle can make you. He works on all the courses – he’s Elena’s real father, so you have that emotional tie. He’s complete fodder for Katherine, who chopped his fingers off. Damon and Stefan hate him because Elena does. Also, if you really think about it, he also slept with Jenna years ago and now Jenna’s dating Alaric, who was married to Isobel – the mother of John’s child [laughs]. He’s there, he’s entrenched in everyone’s life. I’m all about potential and if you are a character with potential, you’ll be brought back. And I think there is a mass potential there for some good drama and some great conflict. He’s a fun guy.

Kevin explained exactly what I feel about Rose. It's that reason, season, lifetime poem I always talk about. Rose came into his life for a reason. That resaon was met, so they killed her off. I would've loved to have her stick around longer, but she had no purpose. I consider Damon genuinely happy even though he and Elena are just friends. He has her and Alaric and Liz along with his brother, so his family is growing as he's growing. I think for once, he feels like he belongs in this... human life that he could never imagine for himself, and it's beautiful to watch him navigate. Elena is where I feel Rose matters most because he's relying on himself in everything that he wants for her. Elena will make her choices according to what she wants and who she's desperate to protect and Stefan will back her even if it means she dies. Having Rose offer up that "all things Elena" to Damon is everything. He can't be alone in wanting the best for her and the life she deserves. He needed someone in his corner while Elena had Stefan in her corner. When Rose died, he lost what I term his Elena partner. Had she still been there, Damon wouldn't have fed Elena his blood. She would've been enough to help him through Elijah's elixir plan. Instead, Andie had to suffer because she's not Rose. She's not nearly enough for something as insane and deadly for Elena as Klaus' ritual.

A good bad guy is a great way to describe John, that's why I love him so much. He and Damon make for great tv every time they share the screen because they're alike in a lot of ways, so it's like they feed off each other. Heartbreaking because just as Elena accepted maybe she could learn not to hate John, he died. Like Jenna. She just learned about vampire and she died. A little too late for both in that regard.

[lovecolibri]

I'm so disappointed and confused as to why we didn't get Belmanes

This has been sitting here since my rantings two weeks ago about missing season 2 Gregory, and Belmanes because I'm awful about answering these sometimes 😬 Now admittedly, we did get some really good Kybel content and I'm absolutely not opposed to that ship, and it's probably easier to tie the pod squad to main characters so they don't end up having to add MORE main characters when they already clearly can't handle as many as they have now. So logically, it wouldn't make sense to put Isobel with her 13 episodes with a love interest who gets maybe 5 or 6 episodes. They'd have to upgrade him to a main character and Tanner is on another show as well so I can see why it wouldn't be feasible.

BUT

The storyline is just so perfect?! LIke, Max and Michael got love stories spanning a decade and I think Isobel deserves something just as epic and earth shaking and cosmic, especially after all she has suffered. And I think it would have been interesting to have had her and Gregory having a bit of a spark in HS but Noah blocked her connection to him. Which in turn would have been a perfect way to introduce discussions of how the aliens connect to their soulmates since we are going deep into the alien science and tethering this season anyway. And you have Gregory who, like Alex, grew up in a toxic, abusive environment and worked hard to remain soft, and kind and gentle, and this shows in him working with young children, and how good he is with them. I am....whooo boy, very upset that we lost that characterization for him this season because that's part of what made us all fall in love with him in just a few episodes! And the tie between him being a teacher on the reservation and Isobel wanting to teach self-defense classes to young girls could not be any more perfect! But we also see from their interaction in season 2 that he was enchanted with her sense of humor and how she broke the rules back in HS, enough to remember it a decade later. And I think that strong connection could have spooked Isobel a bit so we could have drawn it out and still had her date some women and explore what it means to be Isobel free from Noah's influence, but built up a friendship and had a really good friends-to-lovers arc for them.

Like I said, I get why they might want to put Isobel with a character who has more episodes per season and a contract as more than a guest star and working around Tanner's availability, and Isobel and Kyle are absolutely adorable together and I won't be mad about that happening instead, but I think there could have been a really adorable story with Belmanes on both sides and then maybe we could have gotten more of Greg and Alex interacting, and Michael trying to give Greg and shovel talk and getting one right back, and FINALLY getting some Isobel and Alex Bitchy Ice Queen Besties content. But I could have withstood losing out on Belmanes for Kybel, but I can't handle losing Soft Teacher Gregory to Street Racer Greg who doesn't even remember he has a brother he said he wished he'd stood up for more, much less any desire in interacting with him, or the love of Alex's life that Greg killed his own father to save and protect, all because they wanted to pair him with someone who called his adorable class of children "sticky". And I'm still seething that we got Kyle, Greg, and Michael all in a scene together and not ONE mention of Alex, the person that connects them. So as unfortunate as it is, and as much as it saddens my poor Belmanes heart, I'd be okay never seeing Greg again after this season.

[angsty-nerd]

Max + Identity in Season 2

In the pilot, when Max self-identifies who he is to Liz, he tells her, "I'm a son, I'm a brother, I'm a cop...I'm just a guy from Roswell." All of those pieces of his self identity are systematically destroyed in Season 2, to the point where in the season finale he's grasping onto the last thing he feels like might be real about himself -- his role as the savior. A role that he scoffed at before his death, that he didn't really seem to believe, until all of the things he did believe about himself were gone. And then he loses that too, upon the discovery that he's not the only one, that he lacks any form of individuality. That Jones is just like him.

We get our first hint that this is coming in 2x05 when Rosa and Isobel get a glimpse inside Max's mindscape. They are literally traveling through the dying remnants of Max's mind, watching as these pieces of him are slowly fading away. There are three key visual clues in these scenes that give us insight into how he sees himself.

Most obviously, in his mindscape he is fully dressed in his Sheriff's Department uniform. This is the self-identity that he projects to the outside world in Season 1. There are many good metas out there about the layers behind that. How he takes his hat off when he's not on the job because he doesn't feel he deserves it. But all in all, his internal self image is the deputy that the public sees. I’ll add a link below to one where Mo and I were discussing this.

He is surrounded by Liz. And slowly losing her. This could be (and is) a meta all on its own about his psyche in general. He said it himself in 1x03 when he told her that he loves her. "That's what everything is about for me!" And this is the visual embodiment of it. His internal identity completely encompassed and consumed by his memories of Liz and all the things that represent her for him. And yes, their slow degredation are a literal representation. Of his memories of her slowly disappearing, but I also definitely would argue that it's exposing his deepest fear as well - that she'll leave him again.

And of course, he is chained to the floor. We are still, at this point in the season, just getting a glimpse at the layers of trauma hidden within his subconscious, but this is a direct look inside of him and his trauma is right there staring him in the face. These are hidden scars that he hasn't even begun yet to discover, but slowly begin to reveal themselves throughout Season 2b. And I expect will be prevalent in Season 3 as well.

The progression of Max's identity crisis started from the moment he woke up, with a portion of his self literally erased through the loss of his memories of Liz. A lot was made of the sweetness of him telling her at the end of the episode "I am not whole without you." But in a sense that statement could have been almost a thesis for his character arc in Season 2. He spends the entire season not whole, losing little pieces of himself one by one until he's not sure who he is at the end of 2x13.

Once his memory returned in 2x06, it briefly seemed like Max was back to normal, but that quickly got undercut in the opening scene of the next episode when it was first hinted at that he shouldn't be using his powers anymore. In 2x07 it was suggested that Liz was just being overly cautious, but her fears were proved to be accurate in 2x08 when Max does use his powers and immediately suffers chest pain. Its a physical reaction to his powers that's further emphasized in 2x12 when he almost dies trying to kill Flint. Nothing was explicitly stated, but I still speculate he had a full on heart attack in that moment, or that the pacemaker briefly failed, given how hard it was to resuscitate him. But without his powers, he's not complete as an alien anymore.

In 2x09 he loses what he thought he understood about his own origin story. Sheriff Valenti's version of the incident in the group home not only undercut certain facts about himself that he always had believed to be true - that he was the solid, stable one. That he was the strong one. Suddenly he's being told that he's the traumatized one, that he's the one with the behavioral pattern of being a loose cannon.

He loses his job. Okay, officially he quit in 2x07 to search for Jenna, but let's be honest here...if he hadn't quit, then he certainly would have lost his job when Sheriff Valenti arrested him in 2x09. We saw in his mindscape and heard from his lips in the pilot how strongly he identifies as a cop. But now that uniform, and that identity, have literally been stripped away from him...and replaced with a new uniform, sexy Wild Pony bartender man!

So, we have him stripped of his identity as an alien with powers, stripped of his identity as a cop. And in 2x10 he gets stripped of his identity within his family, when he learns that he and Isobel are not related. All of those self-identified aspects of himself have disintegrated, and he's left floundering to figure out who he is without those things. Which is why he begins to throw himself into trying to regain his memories, potentially even at the expense of his health through the use of the serum. Because he is so desperate to find a truth about himself to hold on to.

But that journey is also doomed to undercut him. One of my favorite musical moments of Season 2 is the second time he experiences a memory flash triggered by his own reflection, at the end of 2x10, with the cover of Bullet With Butterfly Wings playing over the scene. @echoapothecary did a great set on this scene right after the episode aired... link below.

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage

Someone will say what is lost can never be saved

Despite all my rage I am still just a rat in a cage

Tell me I'm the only one

Tell me there's no other one

Jesus was the only son, yeah

Tell me I’m the chosen one

I think in the moment we were supposed to take the visual flash at face value and assume that this was about Max's trauma from being imprisoned as a child, but on rewatch (and frankly, listening to the song over and over and over…) I really think the choice was more about identity, and foreshadowing the reveal of Jones as a mirror, clone, relative, something….to Max?

While in the middle of the S2 experience, one of my favorite gif sets that @maxortecho made for me was this idea of Max, and people constantly cutting him down, while Liz loved him regardless of those things (linked below). At the time I was really focusing on him and his reaction to being constantly told he was a let down. Add to that the appearance of Diego in 2x10, and Max isn’t even trying to hide his low self esteem and feelings of insecurity anymore. But take those constant undercuts and add to it the tidal wave of an identity crisis as all of the things you believe to be true about yourself fall apart, and we're left with the Max we see in the last couple episodes of Season 2. A man on a mission, manic and desperate to figure out who he is now, exacerbated by the fact that he's literally on drugs (the serum).

Only then, in his desperate, manic state, does he find himself willing to believe the implausible (to him) reveal at the end of Season 1 that he might be the Savior. Because it's the last thing that makes him unique, that makes him feel like he has a role, a purpose…until he loses that too at the end of the episode when they release Jones, a literal copy of himself, from his prison.

All of these gifs were gratefully borrowed from @maxortecho, with two exceptions. Wild Pony Max 🔥 is @rosaortecho’s work, and Howdy 🧔🏻 is (I think) @darlingnotso’s. (Please correct me if I’m wrong).

[evanoracronwell]

Sunrise

Malex Cupid 2021 by @malex-cupid​

Day 3: “Do you know what today is?”

Also on ao3

__________________________________________________________

It is the sound of the phone ringing that awakens him.

With a grunt, he rolls over the bed until he reaches the nightstand and picks up the device, when he sees the notification on the screen the smile opens on his lips, and any irritation at being woken up disappears.

I'm already on my way home.

I can't wait to see you.

Love you.

Alex.

Alex, his beautiful and irresistible boyfriend.

And fuck if Michael would ever get tired of that word.

Smiling like a teenager, Michael answered the message, and as soon as he pressed to send he heard the growl coming from his feet on the bed. Wrinkling his nose, he looked at the beagle spread on the bed with his face completely mashed from sleeping.

"What is it, girl? It's not that early, it was almost time to get up anyway. We have a lot of things to take care of today"

With an excitement that made Buffy snort indignantly, Michael got out of bed and goes straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower and finish waking up.

Today was a very important day.

It was the first Valentine's Day that he and Alex would spend together, as a couple.

And well, honestly speaking, it was the first Valentine's Day that Michael would celebrate at all. He had no idea how to make it work. But it had to be perfect.

Because Alex deserved nothing but perfection.

So he changed his clothes and get ready to start the day.

He took Buffy for a walk even though the dog was clearly outraged about getting out of bed so early on Sunday morning.

He cleaned the whole cabin, feeling extremely proud of the home he built with Alex.

Now completely renovated, the cabin barely resembled that house that Alex had inherited from old Jim.

The couple's bedroom had been painted a light color, the bed replaced by a king bed, the wardrobe custom-made by Michael himself. The chair in the corner where Buffy always took refuge to sleep when she wasn't in bed with them.

The bathroom had been enlarged and adapted to Alex's needs, the treat they had done to themselves by buying a hot tub, and that they spent hours and hours in the water relaxing after a tiring day.

The living room now has a huge and comfortable sofa, armchairs and a television.

The kitchen had been renovated and modernized.

Everything was so perfect, so ... theirs.

The photos were scattered around the rooms. Showing captured moments of happiness between him, Alex, and the whole gang.

After so many years, Michael finally had a home to call his own.

And most importantly, a home with Alex. What made it even more special

With the house clean it was Buffy's turn to face the terrible shower, and the cowboy could only laugh while the dog whimpered as if she were suffering the worst torture at the hand of one of her fathers. But there she was, bathed and smelling the baby scent of the products they bought at the pet store, and with a pretty red bow that Isobel had made to buy for the dog.

And that was exactly why today had to be just perfect.

Because after eight months of living together, he would finally ask the hand of that beautiful man in marriage.

"Okay girl, now you behave yourself because Dad needs to go out and buy things to make dinner. Your daddy will be here tonight." He smiled when he saw how Buffy immediately reacted to Alex's mention. "That's right, girl, he'll be back today."

Michael had also changed a lot, months ago he had opened his own mechanical garage after old Sander decided to retire, the place had undergone a major renovation and was nowhere near the old Junkyard. Michael even had employees working with him, well ... just two kids that Michael was still training and teaching everything. But they were good kids and above all, hardworking, and after all, Michael never even imagined that he would have his own business.

As he drove to the market downtown, Michael found himself thinking about how much life had changed.

After Alex finally left the air force, he got a job at a private security company in Washington, but luckily he could work remotely, they paid extremely well and it made the job too perfect for Alex to turn down, so now taking the few trips he took to personally attend a few customers, Alex was always at home.

When parking the truck in front of the market, the cowboy smiled when he saw his sister standing at the front door waiting for him.

"You know when I said I was coming to the market when you called me, it wasn't an invitation for you to join me." Michael grunted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a shopping cart and Isobel joined him in the aisles.

"Please, as if you could keep me away. Now tell me, how are the preparations for the big night?"

"I already cleaned the whole cabin and bathed Buffy and yes, I put on the bow you brought her yesterday."

"Great, my niece has to be beautiful. The candles?"

"I have already spread some of those aromatic candles around the house, I will light them as soon as I hear his car pull over. The delivery man left the flowers for me just before I left the house, they are already in the water and I will finish fixing them when I return home."

"Your clothes?"

"Washed and ironed."

"The ring?"

"On my nightstand."

"Your heart?"

"Coming out from my mouth."

Isobel laughed out loud at her brother's terrified look and hugged him around the waist, laying her head on his shoulder as she watched Michael go putting all the items in the cart.

"Michael, he loves you. Nothing is going to go wrong tonight, trust me. He will say yes. There is no couple in the world more perfect for each other than the two of you."

"We really are perfect together, aren't we?"

Isobel laughed again at her brother's silly passionate look, but she still agreed, because in fact there was no couple more in love and more perfect for each other than Michael and Alex.

"So, what's the menu going to be?"

The small box in his trouser pocket seemed to weigh a ton, making Michael's nervousness increase by the second.

Well, it turns out that cooking seems a lot easier in the videos he had seen on the internet than in practice. Not that Michael was not a good cook, he was, but he understood a lot more about cooking typical daily foods, yet he couldn't deny that he did an excellent job.

A few hours later and he had a perfect gorgonzola risotto, a rare grilled steak with a sauce of herbs and vegetables sautéed in butter. The table was already prepared with candles and a flower arrangement, beautiful, but small so that it wouldn't disturb them to look each other in the eye.

With a shower already taken and perfumed Michael looked in the mirror, that was not the kind of clothes he used to wear, dark gray trousers and a light blue shirt, but it was worth it, especially when he knew how turned on gets seeing him like that.

Perfect.

Tonight had to be perfect.

When Alex parked in front of the cabin all he could think about was how much he missed Michael, after four days away, all he wanted to hug his boyfriend and get into the hot tub for hours.

Upon opening the door, however, Alex felt his heart skip a beat.

"Do you know what today is?”

The room was lit only by two lamps that barely gave any light, leaving the rest of the lighting responsible for some candles. And flowers, white roses because Michael knew it was Alex's favorite, scattered as buds and petals everywhere. And right there, in the middle of the room, the most beautiful of all men.

Michael looked at him with a smile on his lips and his eyes were already watering.

"Michael ...?" Alex asked confused but thrilled as he dropped his backpack at the entrance to the cabin and took a step closer to Michael.

"It's Valentine's Day Alex, our first Valentine's Day together. And I've spent a lifetime wishing for this day, but never really believing that it could truly happen. Thirteen years ago you gave me a place to spend the cold nights, a guitar, and one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen in my life. " Michael started talking, staring at Alex, who was still a little confused, walking towards his boyfriend until he stopped in front of him. "You showed me that there was good in people and that there was a place for me here, on Roswell. On this planet. You gave me hope, Alex, hope that I could be happy, hope that there was more to people than just cruelty and second intentions. You taught me what it is to love and be loved in such a pure and intense way that it stayed with me, saved in my heart for more than a decade. Nurturing and comforting me every time I felt alone and lost. "

The cowboy smiled and touched Alex's face, who was looking at him so beautifully, his eyes already wet and shedding silent tears, both of them barely moving in fear of breaking that moment so sublime. Michael, speaking in a whisper as if he was afraid to wake up from that dream he felt he was living.

"There hasn't been a single day in my life that I haven't missed you, that I haven't thought of you, and most of all, that I haven't loved you. I'm yours, Alex, totally and completely yours, body, soul, and heart. I am yours to do anything you want. I always have been and will continue to be until my last breath, and beyond that too. I waited more than a decade to finally have you in my arms, and here we are living a life that I never even dared to dream of being possible. But we're here, celebrating our first Valentine's Day together. But I want more. "

With a beautiful smile, Michael took the box out of his pocket and saw how Alex immediately choked and sobbed as Michael went down on one knee showing him a beautiful and delicate silver band.

"I want to celebrate every Valentine's day with you, I want to start a family and see kids running around in our backyard, I want to adopt more dogs, I want to grow old by your side Alex. So please, could you make me the happiest man in the world and accept being my husband?"

Feeling completely overwhelmed with all the emotions he felt at that moment, Alex felt unable to even breathe for a few seconds while looking at Michael.

The beautiful and irresistible, Michael.

The eternal love of his life, Michael.

Kneeling at his feet asking Alex to be his forever.

"There is nothing in this world that I want more than to be your husband."

It was Buffy's bark that woke him, the small, plump beagle was lying on the sofa and Alex laughed when he saw her adorned with a red bow with the words "be my valentine" in white. Looking back at the man kneeling in front of him, Alex smiled so delighted and in love that Michael didn't even dare to blink for fear of losing that vision.

Alex never thought it possible to love that man more than he already did, but here was Michael proving him wrong.

Alex answered in a hoarse and choked voice and then threw himself into Michael's arms causing them to fall on the carpet in the middle of the room, between tears and laughter they kissed in love while Buffy barked and mumbled as if she were also celebrating the news.

"I love you, Michael." Alex murmured against Michael's already red and swollen lips after exchanging long, passionate kisses.

"I love you, too, Alex."

When the next day dawned, Michael grunted when he felt the light coming through the window waking him up. But the sigh coming from the man between his arms made him open his eyes and smile.

Last night had been perfect, much more than he had imagined.

Alex had accepted his proposal, they had eaten dinner while talking and listening to the soft melody that Michael had selected to play, and then they had spent a long time immersed in the hot tub where Michael sank into Alex's body, loving every bit of skin that he could touch. Only later, they went to bed and it was the cowboy's turn to ride Alex passionately, taking all the beautiful moans out of that mouth that he loved to kiss.

Now, holding the most important person in his life in his arms, Michael sighed contentedly as he brought his body closer to Alex, wrapping him tighter in his arms, and then smiled seeing the ring adorning that beautiful man's finger.

Alex, his fiance.

Alex, his future husband.

Yes, Michael smiled feeling his heart overflowing with love and happiness.

He smiled feeling the warmth of a new sunrise touching his skin and bringing all the promise of a long and happy life with Alex

Life couldn't be more perfect.

[lambourngb]

Why can’t I change

The irony is, you inspired this story. You posted a ficlet about Michael and Max going out to distract themselves from the pain of being separated from their soulmates...  and this hit me hard:

Max is drinking too much tonight.  This is a good bar – Michael’s actually been in here before.  Twice.  Both times over the last few months, since Alex and Forrest… yeah.  He’s left with guys, both times. He’s… he’s trying to figure some stuff out, with himself.  What he likes.  What he wants, outside of Alex.  Um, and hopefully, eventually, with Alex. It’s been… fine. Fun.  Light.  Uncomplicated.  Pretty much everything the rest of his life isn’t right now.

So I started writing a fic where Michael is exploring things about himself, dating and figuring out what he wants, while he lingers in that “hopefully eventually” feeling in place. Of course, dating is hell, and especially it’s hell when there is so much about Michael that is hard to explain to someone- not just the alien parts, but his genius IQ, his “adopted” siblings, his past in social services, no parents, etc. Then the awkwardness of how he can’t stop from watching Alex whenever their paths cross.

SNIPPET :

It started innocently enough like most of Michael’s life-ruining decisions, during a beer break from his newly re-established lab bunker. 

“Alright, worst date you’ve ever been on, and go!”  Charlie started, taking a long pull of her IPA, before sending a look over to Michael. “You win on the most embarrassing sibling, Guerin, someone needs to teach your sister to knock, but I bet I have you beat on bad dates.”

So five minutes after she had decided to stay in Roswell, Charlie Cameron had ended up tracking down Michael at Sanders, and opened the conversation unceremoniously with, “So aliens are real and I’m guessing you’re one. Consider me the newest member of your Scooby Gang and tell me everything.” He had dropped a heavy wrench on his boot, pain stealing his voice for a moment. Perhaps there was a man out there that was able to resist the no-nonsense stare of a Cameron woman, but that wasn’t Michael, or even Max for that matter.

And that was that, one more person in on the second biggest secret Michael held (he was still in love with Alex being number one). It came with it’s own valuable reveals, finding out from Charlie that although Helena Ortecho had covered her tracks with the group as a red herring for Flint’s sake, Deep Sky was a very real paramilitary group and they were the source of the depowering serum that Helena had used on Michael to keep him compliant.

So ten minutes after catching her up on all things ridiculous and real in Roswell, New Mexico, Charlie had raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him and drawled lazily, “Any plans to combat that drug, or are you just going to hope that the next time it’s another benign manipulator? Because the way I see it, I’m a genius biochemist, and you’re a genius period, maybe we can do better than blind hope?”

Whether it was hubris at play to see if it was even possible, or a renewed determination to just fuck up whatever military sponsored plot that was in play, Charlie Cameron signed on to research an antidote to the depowering serum and in the process had become Michael’s newest, and surprisingly easiest, friend to have. 

It was strange but Michael was starting to number his friends beyond just Max, Isobel and the currently absent Liz Ortecho. He could begrudgingly add Kyle Valenti to the list, now that Max had come clean with everyone over his heart condition. Although it was exceedingly awkward at times in the wake of their breakup, Maria was trying for friendship with him and it probably said something about them that they fell into that rhythm much easier than he had with Alex. 

On paper he could consider Alex his friend. They shared beers together at neutral locations, there was always a conversation to linger over with coffee, and finally, Michael was the person Alex called now, every time he was scheduled to go out of town for work. That was less friendship, and more of a coping mechanism for them both after his abduction by Jesse then Helena. 

It meant that Charlie Cameron had won the contest of easiest friend probably by default, but that didn’t make being the target of her knife-sharp sense of humor any easier to deflect when she smelled blood in the water. Thinking about his past, he knew that any conversation about dating was sure to leave him bleeding out.

Michael eyed the open hatch of the bunker lab, wondering if the spanse of time they had spent in the open air was enough for Charlie to nip this conversation to a close and return to the task of experimentation. Long periods of time in solitary confinement in a military prison had left her with a dislike of closed spaces, and it didn’t matter what sort of faux-Restoration Hardware light fixture he hung from the ceiling of his bunker; the walls would start closing in on her after two  hours or so of work.  

“You win this round, okay?” 

“Come on, no bowing out. I told you about the ‘bring your child to work day’ my father suffered through with his conservative asshat co-workers, you can tell me about your worst date.”

“I haven’t dated enough to have a bad one, okay?” Michael admitted, looking away. There was no way he was going to talk about the drive in charity benefit with Alex, when he couldn’t be legitimately sure that it was even a date. Did sharing a six-pack on his tailgate even count? The way that night had ended was better off forgotten. Then there was Maria, where drinks at her bar had started as the natural postscript to an evening together. Did that count? He remembered bargaining with debts to arrange a dinner with Chinese food, that had been postponed almost indefinitely after her visions took center stage. 

“Bullshit! Almost the second thing my sister told me about you was to be careful I didn’t end up in your bed.”

Michael ducked his head with an acknowledged wince. Well, Jenna Cameron did have a front-row seat during most of his questionable decisions regarding women and his poor restraint when it came to a certain brand of asshole at the Wild Pony. When he ran across men who reminded him of Foster Dad #5 who thought respect could be beaten into Michael, or men who were like Foster Dad 3 who kept his wife nervously popping pills for her nerves and caked in pancake makeup most Sunday mornings. Some people just needed punching. Michael was always happy to be the one doing it if someone gave him reason to and drunk assholes often did.

He tipped the bottle back to drain the last swallow of nearly flat beer to buy some time as he thought about what to say next. There was little hope of escape, Charlie had the mind of a scientist, sharp and inquisitive and ready to press for more answers. “I’m no virgin, that’s for sure. But that was mainly sex.” He shrugged, dropping the empty into his trash barrel. “From all the movies Izzy makes me watch with her, I gather going on a date is something of a higher tier than a one-off in my truck after last call.”

“What about with Mr. Complicated?” Charlie’s smile was closer to a smirk. Michael revised his assessment of her, from scientist to sadist. 

“More than a one-off in my truck,” Michael agreed quietly. “Everything else was why it was complicated. And no, I don’t really want to talk about it, just to say, I have no stories about lost entrées at dinner or suddenly being a part of someone’s wedding reception with him.” 

Instead of pressing the knife deeper into him with more questions about Alex, Charlie backed off with a mixed expression. Shit that was pity on her face, wasn’t it? God, it really was a sad story, his relationship with Alex and his life currently, Michael thought. Charlie, who had spent time in the last couple of years in a military prison and was actively evading a paramilitary group interested in her research, actually pitied his life. 

“You’re trying to tell me you’re thirty years old, and you don’t have a single dating story to share?” She shook her head giving a sarcastic *bzzz* sound with her lips. “I don’t buy it. What about the hot bartender you were with last year?”

“You ever try to date someone who works in a bar? Her work hours were prime recreational hours. Who wants to go see a movie after last call and closing the till? You especially don’t want to go to another bar during off hours.” Michael pointed out. “Anyway, we kept it low-key. I cooked. Or we had drinks at the Pony. I dunno, life kept getting in the way of anything more.” 

“That’s just sad.”

Michael placed his hand against his chest, “Ouch, don’t hold back!”

Charlie straightened up from where she was sitting, on the steps of the old school bus to get to her feet. “Okay you’ve basically described two relationships with feelings, but I’m talking about something different. You swipe right on someone, trade messages, ghost them when they are creepy, you’ve never done any of that? No one has ever slipped their number to you when you’ve gone out with friends?”

“I just told you, those were just one-offs in my truck.”

“Oh my god, give me your phone, we’re downloading some apps.”

[jule1122]

Malex Fic _ We woke with the mourning sound

I’ve been writing this to help with all the anxiety I’ve felt these past weeks.  That may be why it got a little out of control.  It’s the longest Malex fic I’ve written and my take on “Alex and Michael learn to communicate by writing to each other.”  Once again I gave Alex a dog, and I won’t apologize for that.

We woke with the mourning sound on AO3

Summary: When Alex leaves Roswell, he and Michael stay in touch.  Through letters and emails, they open up to each other.

Warning for a description of abuse Alex suffered. 

Title is from “Mourning Sound” by Grizzly Bear.  Letters and emails are in italics.  I am pretty sure everything about Alex’s career is completely inaccurate.

Timing is everything, and for once Alex thinks it is on his side.  After a few pleasant, but ultimately lackluster, dates with Forrest, Greg drops off several boxes of Jesse’s papers he found when clearing out the house. So he cancels his next date with Forrest, sets aside his unfinished song lyrics and turns his attention back to dismantling Project Sheppard.  

It doesn’t take long to find something worth investigating, and Alex knows what he needs to do.  With renewed purpose, he makes plans quickly suddenly desperate to make up for the ground he lost chasing ghosts.  He doesn't’ regret the time he spent learning Tripp’s story, not exactly.   Alex needed, probably more than realized, to know he wasn’t genetically predisposed to genocide, that his family was capable of love.  And he can never regret everything Michael and Isobel learned about their mothers, what Michael learned about Sanders.  He still has hope that good things will come for Mimi and Maria as well so none of that time was wasted.

But he should have been able to discover the truth about what happened after the crash without losing sight of his ultimate goals to protect Michael and destroy his father.  If he’d been focused, his father never would have been able to display a full intact alien console at CrashCon without him knowing about it.  Instead Jesse had been moments from getting everything he wanted, Michael and all aliens dead along with countless others, all because Alex was chasing a happy ending he knew didn’t exist.  Tripp may have loved Nora, but that didn’t save her from a lifetime of imprisonment, it didn’t save Michael from never knowing his mother, it didn’t save Louise from  living in silence without her daughters.  Love changed nothing. 

Within a week, Alex has everything in place to leave Roswell.  It’s more a relief than he expected.  Alex thought he was resigned to staying in Rowell to take care of Project Sheppard, but now that he has another option, he realizes how much being here wears on him.   Everyday someone stops him to talk about Jesse.  The same people who turned a blind eye to his bruises and bandages wait for him to agree when they tell him what a great man Jesse was and how much the community feels his loss.  And when he walks away without a word, he is the one to feel the weight of their disapproval and scorn.

There is no one keeping him in Roswell.  Liz is gone, his relationship with Max and Isobel revolved around Michael and his discoveries about aliens.  With no currently looming alien crisis, Kyle is focused on his girlfriend and rebuilding his professional reputation.  Maria and Rosa are rediscovering their friendship as well as figuring what being alien means to them.  It means they spend most of their time together or with the other aliens.  Seeing them together makes Alex happy, but he knows he doesn’t have a place with them right now.  And Michael, Michael, hasn’t spoken to him since he walked out the Pony while Alex was singing. 

He leaves his goodbyes for the last minute.  The only ones he expects to kick up a fuss about a going away party are Kyle and Rosa so he plans to text them once he’s several states away.  The night before he leaves, he calls Greg.  Despite what they both said about the distance between the Reservation and Roswell, they’ve both been too busy for in person visits, instead talking and texting frequently.  Knowing their relationship won’t be impacted greatly by his moving was a deciding factor in his requesting the transfer.

They say their goodbyes, but Alex hesitates before hanging up.  “Next time you talk to Flint, let him know where I am.”

He ends the call before Greg can respond.  Alex hasn’t spoken to Flint since his kidnapping, hasn’t seen him since Jesse’s funeral, but Greg has let him know about the few times Flint has contacted him.  He tries not to put too much weight on the fact that it’s easier for Flint to forgive Greg for killing their father than it is for him to accept Alex loving Michael.  He’s giving it time, waiting to see how much of what Flint became is his father’s influence, waiting to see who he still might become in Jesse’s absence.  Hope is a dangerous thing, but Alex won’t give up on Flint just yet.

Once his car is packed and his house closed up, he drives to The Wild Pony.  It’s still early so  he’s confident he’ll find Maria alone setting up for the day.  The music’s loud enough that he’s not sure she hears him come in.  He watches as she sings along while restocking the glassware.  When there’s a break in the lyrics she looks up, smile bright and welcoming when she sees him.

“Alex!  What a nice surprise.”

She sets a beer on the bar despite the early hour, but he shakes his head as he sits down across from her.  “Not today, I have a long drive ahead of me.”

“Another recruiting trip?  Honestly I don’t know why they make you do those.”

“New posting,” he watches as her face falls.  “I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

Maria walks around the bar and sits on the stool next to him, taking his hands.  “Is it goodbye?”

“I don’t know,” Alex squeezes her hands. “But I promise to keep in touch this time.  I don’t want to miss another ten years of your life.”

“It’s not,” she begins hesitantly, “your not leaving because of”

“No,” he cuts her off quickly and firmly.  “This is work, nothing more.  I promise.”

“You’re sure?”

He nods as she eyes him critically.  He knows she’s trying to read him, and he does the best he can not to hold back his emotions, not to hide behind the walls he spent years building.  He hopes she feels the love and affection he has for her, the peace he feels being around her.

“Ok,” she finally relents.  “But I go on record as hating this.  And if you don’t call me at least once a week, I will hunt you down.”

“Fair,” he pulls her in for a tight hug, grateful he’d found a way to be hurt but not angry, and he still has her in his life.

“Hey, you tell him yet?” she asks when he’s almost to the door.

“That’s my next stop,” he answers, not needing to ask who she means.  “It’s fine, Maria.  He’ll probably be relieved.  All I do is hurt him.”

“Alex, I still don’t know a lot about the two of you,” she gives him a look that lets him know exactly whose fault that is.  “But I know enough, I <i>see</i> enough to know there is a lot more than hurt between you.”

He doesn’t say anything, just hugs her again.  When he steps back, he tucks her curls behind her ears and kisses her on the forehead before leaving.  He lingers in the parking lot longer than he should, staring at the sign and wishing there was a way to leave Roswell without leaving this behind as well.

He finds Michael under the hood of a jeep, and he waits patiently for him to step back and wipe his hands off.  No one else is around so he knows Michael takes his time on purpose.  “You have a minute,” he asks when Michael finally looks at him.

“Yeah.”

The airstream’s back at the junkyard so he leads Alex to the chairs he always has set up in front of it.  Once they both sit, he looks at Alex and sighs.  “I don’t like that face.”

Alex doesn't know what face he’s making, but he feels like the conversation is already  off to a bad start.  “Greg gave me all the records he found when he cleaned out the house,” he says, deciding just to dive right in.

“That must have been some great bedtime reading.  What new horrors have you come to share with the class?”

Alex looks away, looks up and stares at the sun until it blinds him.  He thought, hoped, they were past this.  “I don’t know,” he finally admits because Michael’s not wrong.  In the end, whatever he does will most likely end with the discovery of even more atrocities committed by his family.  

“That wasn’t fair.”

Once his vision clears, sun spots fading away, he sees Michael rubbing his face.

“I’m just tired, you know.”  And the more Alex looks, the more he sees it.  “I thought we might finally catch a break from all this shit, but it just never ends.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” He’d thought in the end maybe destroying the shed had meant something different to Michael than it did to him, that maybe for Michael it was a way to sever a tie between them.  But now he wonders if Michael still sees Alex as nothing more than another Manes trying to ruin his life.  

“Nah, I told you I don’t blame you for that.”

Alex inclines his head, but doesn’t say anything.  Michael has told him he’s not to blame for his family’s actions, but there have also been times he’s made it clear he thinks Alex is part of that tradition of cruelty.  It’s a lot easier to believe Michael when he sees the worst in Alex.

“With your dad gone, you seemed freer.  You have a chance to leave that baggage behind you.  I wanted to give you space to move on, figure out who you want to be now.”

“That’s not how it works.”  He wants to argue, tell Michael that he wants him in his life any way he can have him.  That freedom from his father was always supposed to mean freedom to be with Michael.  But he realizes now, his timing is all wrong.  Telling Michael all this as he leaves town seems cruel so he tries to refocus on why he’s here.  “It doesn’t matter.  I found a military site in Louisiana that’s connected to Project Sheppard.  My grandfather, my father and Flint all spent time there.  It looks like Jesse was there recently; I think the console or whatever that was at CrashCon was stored there.”

Michael leans forward,hands braced on his knees, but he doesn’t say anything.

“There was a research facility that shut down right after the last transfer back to Caulfield.”  When they first found records of transfers in and out of Caulfield, they’d hoped there were other facilities being used as prisons, that there was a chance of finding survivors.  But it didn’t take long to realize the totals never changed and it was the same prisoners being moved back and forth.  “Nothing in the paperwork I have explains what they were doing there, so I’m headed there now.”

“Shouldn’t you take someone with you?  Cameron or even Valenti?”

Alex ignores the hurt that comes from knowing Michael has no desire to accompany him, but it makes what he has to tell him easier.  “The research facility may be closed, but it’s still located on an active military base.  There’s only one way to gain access.  I requested a transfer, and starting Monday, I’ll be doing a complete overhaul of the security system.”

“Are you kidding me?”  Michael stands up and starts pacing in front of Alex.  “You’re going to transfer across the country because you think there might be some alien tech or files there.  What kind of plan is that?”

“The only one that will work.  When places like this shut down, people walk out and literally just lock the door behind them.  Everything is still there, but no one is supposed to know about it.  I’m going to need a reason to access that facility, and looking for holes in base security will give me a chance to do that.”

“And how long will you be there?”

“I don’t know.  As long as it takes,” Alex throws his hands in the air, picking up on Michael’s agitation.  “Even once I get access, it’s going to take time to get all the data and decode it.  Anything involving aliens will be heavily encrypted and camouflaged to look like it’s about something else.”

“You have all the answers,” Michael shakes his head.  “But it sounds to me like you’re just looking for a way out.  Again.”

“Michael,” Alex sighs.  He doesn’t want to fight with Michael and that’s what will happen if he starts throwing out accusations and trying to defend himself.  He tries to think of a way to make Michael understand instead.  “We don’t talk about it, but Project Sheppard was, is, more than just my family.  If someone gets to this information before me, someone else who knows what they are looking for or just someone curious and tenacious enough to figure it out, it could lead them here, to you, to Max and Isobel, to Maria.  I can’t take that chance.  Can you?” 

He sees the moment Michael gets, when he just deflates, anger draining out of him.  “I don’t have to like it.”

“I don’t either,” Alex admits.  “I know how it looks, but I’m not running away.  I promised to protect you, to be there for you, and right now the best way to do that is to leave.”

Michael nods.  “I have been avoiding you.  Sometimes it’s hard to think around you, to not just act or say the first stupid thing that comes into my head.  I thought we could both use some space, but I thought we’d have time to figure it out, you know, get on the same page.”

“Me, too.”  The fact that Michael still has some hope for them makes him want to do something stupid and reckless, like ask a question Michael has already answered.  

Michael must see something in his eye because he shakes his head, “Don’t.”

Alex sighs and drags his foot through the dirt.  He’s not sure who he would have been trying to punish by asking Michael to come with him and forcing him to say no.  “Our timing sucks,” is what he says instead.  He smiles when Michael laughs, tries to memorize the way he looks in that moment.  “I really do have to go.”  He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for Michael, but he can’t resist leaning forward and kissing him on the cheek before he leaves.  “I’ll be in touch.”

Alex spends the first few weeks at his new posting establishing the cover that will eventually give him the freedom he’ll need once he gets access to the research facility.  He plays up the idea that he’d rather be overseas, back in the action, but is resigned to being as useful as he can be after his injury.   He walks a fine line in making sure his colleagues respect him enough to follow his orders without questions, but also find him to be enough of a perfectionist, pain in the ass to leave him to his own devices as much as possible.

All of his free time is spent alone, by choice, since he’ll need every available moment to decode the files once he has them.  But once he gets all the security measures he needs set up at his rental house, he finds himself at loose ends most evenings.  Before returning to Roswell, he’d done everything he could to blend in, to excel without drawing attention to himself.  That meant bonding with his unit, nights spent drinking and hanging out even when he’d rather be alone.  The last few years have been spent in a constant state of turmoil so while he thought he’d welcome the solitude, it gives him too much time to think.

Most of his thoughts center on Michael, and one night after a few beers, he starts writing.

Dear Michael,

I know it would have been a mistake to ask you to come with me,  We were barely speaking when I left, but I wanted to.  I told you before I shouldn’t have left you behind, but I don’t think you believed me.  I don’t know how to make you understand that even though I always wanted you with me, I couldn’t ask.  I wanted to win battles, and the only way I knew how to do that was to hide anything that could make me weak.  I couldn’t be the boy you loved, and I was afraid you’d hate the person I had to be.  Instead I hated the person I become, the one that hurt you again and again.  I would have been better, stronger with you, but I was too dumb and scared to see it.  I’m sorry.

He surprises himself by mailing it, and is even more surprised to get an email from Michael a few days later.

No return address, Alex, don’t think i didn’t notice that.  I could find you if I wanted to, but I like this better.  At least I know if you opened it or not.  I’m not going to lie, it hurt every time you walked away, but that wasn’t all on you.  I pushed you to leave too, and part of me was glad you never asked me to come with you.  I would have said no, every time, I would have said no.  And I wouldn’t have been able to tell you why.  You would have stopped coming back a lot sooner than you did.  And as much as I hated you for leaving, I was selfish enough to want every minute I could get.  I don’t hate the person you’ve become, I could never hate you, even when I’ve tried.  You are strong and kind and brilliant.  You are the best person on this miserable planet.  Be proud of who you are.  Don’t take all the blame for our past.  We were both too young and broken to make anything work.   Stay safe.

Alex prints the email out and keeps it in the drawer of his nightstand.  He didn’t expect Michael to respond, and doesn’t want to lose that connection no matter how tenuous it is so he sends another letter.

Michael,

I hate the weather here.  Heat I’m used to, but this humidity is hell.  Not to mention the bugs.  It doesn’t cool down at night like it does in the desert, just stays muggy all the time.  I miss our nights by the fire.  Even when I had to ruin it by telling you some new horrible thing about my family, I wanted to be there.  There was something about those nights, maybe it was the darkness or that fact that we weren’t touching, or sometimes even looking at each other, that made it easier to listen to each other.  It is the only reason I found the courage to give the ship piece back to you.  I’m sorry I kept it from you.  I’m even more sorry I took it back.  That’s probably the worst thing I ever did to you, and I can’t even explain why.  I think about that night a lot and everything I did, everything I said was wrong.  It’s not an excuse, there is no excuse, but I think I was trying to fix everything-the past, my dad, you, me.  It was all mixed up in my head, and I fucked it all up.  I’m sorry.

It takes Alex two days to work up the nerve to mail it.  He’d wanted to send Michael something lighthearted, but instead he’s just proving Michael right.  Nothing is easy between them, and Alex will never be good for him.  Mailing it feels like another goodbye, and he wonders how many of them they have left.

A few days later, he finally finds a reference to the research facility on an old set of blueprints, and he forces the letter out of his mind.  

He should have expected it to be underground, but at least it’s a basement and not a bunker so he descends a normal staircase rather than a ladder.  He directs the small crew he brought with him to open the door and feigns surprise when he finds an abandoned laboratory instead of an empty room.    He breathes an internal sigh of relief when at first glance it looks like it was actually used for research rather than torture.  There are no cells, chains, examination tables or sharp instruments out in the open. Instead there are a few old computers, a couple of cameras and lots of filing cabinets.

He takes pictures of the few pieces of what look like medical equipment for Liz and Kyle before having the room locked down with a security system only he can access.  Then it’s back to performance mode.  He goes to the base commander, letting him know having an unsecured and unmonitored facility no one on base knew about is a level of carelessness boarding on actionable.  He projects the perfect amount of irritation and frustration at the obvious oversite then promises to handle it himself when he has time.  Making it clear that any noticeable interest in the facility will only highlight the commander’s incompetence, Alex goes back to upgrading the long range perimeter alert system and bides his time.

Alex, I really wish you were here sitting in front of the fire with me.  I’d make you look at me so you would know I mean everything I am about to say.  Thank you for the apology.  I think I needed to hear.  But not everything you said that night was wrong.  You said you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life stuck in the tool shed.  I’d like to think you’re not there anymore.  But I also don’t want you trapped in that night in the bunker either.  Apologizing is a good thing, but dwelling on it isn’t.  I know it isn’t that easy.  I’ve been seeing a therapist, Iz, Maz and I all are.  That’s probably the only reason I’m not sending you a list of my own failures and shortcomings.  It sucks, but it’s helping. There is one thing I need to apologize for.  I should have left you chained to that radiator (what does it say about our lives that a sentence like that isn’t about sex).  I made a decision about your safety for you and even worse, I left you in an especially vulnerable position without your prosthetic.  I took advantage of your disability, and the fact that you are enough of a badass to save yourself doesn’t make it any less wrong for me to have left you there.  I hope we can forgive each other and forgive ourselves now.  Because I want to end this on a lighter note, next time you want to laugh just imagine what that humidity would do to my hair.  Stay safe.

He prints it twice because his hands are shaking so much, he rips the first copy.  His first instinct is to immediately start another letter, but he knows his thoughts are too scattered for that.  Instead he calls Maria and then Greg.  He encourages Maria to catch him up on all the latest gossip and laughs with her about Rosa threatening to disown Kyle after she saw him at Planet 7’s karaoke night.  The talk about Mimi and Liz, and he finally says goodbye after her bartender yells for help a third time.  Greg listens while he vents about having all this information at his fingertips and needing to wait before doing anything about it.  Kyle and Liz quickly confirmed the medical equipment he saw would have been used for monitoring brain activity, heart rates and breathing.  They are both pressing for any results he can send them, and he feels like he’s not doing enough.  He lets Greg talk him through his plan accepting his reassurance that safety is more important than speed.  He says goodnight comforted by the sense of family and acceptance he gets from both of them.

Another week passes before he feels comfortable visiting the lab.  He doesn’t linger just stays long enough to remove the computer hard drives and determine there is no film or data card in the computer.  He’ll have an easier time going through the data on the secure system he set up at home rather taking the chance on spending any more time on site.  When he leaves, there is a manila envelope sitting on his passenger seat.  He parks out of range of any security cameras, but it doesn’t matter because as soon as he opens the letter inside, he recognizes Flint’s handwriting.

I see you found what you were looking for.  There is an order coming to destroy everything in the lab, but it will be delivered directly to you so you can delay it if needed.  No one at the base knows what went on down there, but you should wrap your investigation up as quickly as possible. Dad took everything of value last time he was there, but he left the research behind.  Any file with real information is marked “Trial 2.”  The rest are just decoys.  Don’t get caught.

Using Flint’s intel, Alex begins removing the physical files from the lab.  He visits at irregular intervals, but it still only takes him about six weeks to get everything he needs.  He’s about halfway through and still running the computer files through his encryption software when he writes to Michael again.

Michael,

I get what you said about being tired the day I left.  I have most of the information from the lab and soon it will be decoded.  I don’t want to know.  Will it help?  I hope so, because I really hate the thought of seeing more evidence of my family’s cruelty.  I just want it to be over, but I don’t think it ever will be.  Sorry I keep writing to you about all my problems.  I’m proud of you for having the courage to see a therapist.  I had some mandatory counseling over the years, but since I knew it anything I said could be accessed by my commanding officer and most likely my father, I was never able to be honest.  Assuming you found a way around the alien thing, I hope it keeps helping you.  

He gets the next email from Michael the same day he successfully decodes the first file.  He reads the email first, hoping it will give him the courage to see what horrors he unveiled. 

Alex, please keep writing.  I want to know everything, even the bad things.  Don’t worry I haven’t said anything in therapy that will get me committed or put on another government watch list.  Sometimes I have to force myself to go, but it is helping.  I get why it wasn’t the same for you, but you still need support.  Maria says you call her most weeks, and you’re writing to me so I hope that is helping you.  I know how hard it is for you to lean on people, but we are here for you.  I wish you weren’t alone.  If the files get to be too much, don’t read them.  Send them to Valenti and Liz and let them figure it out.  It wasn’t fair to leave you with all the files that came out of Caulfield.  We should have seen how much it was hurting you.  I was too trapped in my own pain to think about anyone else, and I know it’s not fair, but I need the information I get to be second hand first.  I need the little bit of distance hearing it from you gives me, but that means you get the full weight of my pain.  I can’t be the one to help you, but please reach out to someone who can.  Maybe Greg?  Stay safe.

He prints out the email and sets it next to him as he opens the first file that has cleared his program.  There are only five that are fully decoded, and he skims through them quickly.   It’s only a fraction of what he’s found, but it’s not horrible.  The situation is horrible, these are still prisoners, being held against their will for no reason other than fear and prejudice.  He can’t make that anything other than a tragedy, but the after what he saw at Caulfield, the lack of actual torture is a relief.  From what he’s read, the focus was on determining how the pieces of the alien ship and other alien tech interact with the aliens.  The files are clinical, detailing observations and the results of medical monitoring.  He sends everything to Liz and Kyle and makes a note for himself to start cross checking the Caulfield files to see if he can find a pattern to how the aliens were selected for this trial. 

Alex’s life settles into a routine.  Working through the files is a painstaking process, and he tries to keep it from overwhelming him.  The focus of the research doesn’t change the more he investigates so he flags the majority of the files as medical and passes them on.  At some point one of the researchers started a side project trying to translate the symbols and determine if they represented spoken language or were only used in technology.  He keeps those files for himself.  Once he has all the data, he wants to take his own crack at figuring out the symbols.  He wants something to come of all this, and giving Michael his language back would be a start.

For the first time in his life, he misses Roswell.  Or at least he’s finally able to admit he misses the people he left there.  So he calls Maria and Greg and when Kyle calls about a file he sent, he asks about his mom and how things are going at the hospital.  Most importantly, he keeps writing to Michael.  Alex doesn’t write about anything he finds in the files, he wants a relationship that isn’t dominated by the past, theirs or their family’s.  He tries to keep his letters light, focusing on sharing parts of his day.  And Michael responds in kind.

Michael,

I took out my guitar for this first time since I moved here.  It felt good to play even if it was just some songs I remembered from high school.  I catch myself making music all or nothing.  If I can’t dedicate myself to it completely, I stop playing.  But all it takes is a few songs to remember how much I love having it in my life no matter how big or small a part.  

Alex, Keep playing because I expect a concert next time I see you.  I miss hearing you sing.  You know Kyle’s girlfriend left, right.  Well, he and Max now have the world’s most boring bromance.  And since they may be the two straight men I’ve ever met (Kyle’s fondness for Planet 7 is still a mystery), it really is a bromance.  I keep finding them sitting together silently, staring at their drinks.  I think they may have started a book club as well.  At least Kyle has taken over some of my keep an eye on Max so he doesn’t actually die of a broken heart duties.  It will probably all fall apart if LIz ever comes back, but for now they are happy being miserable together if that makes any sense.  Stay safe.

Michael,

I adopted a dog.  Her name is Maisey, and you can see from the picture, she is adorable.  They think she is a pit mixed with either collie or retriever.  I wanted an older dog that didn’t need too much activity, and she’s just perfect for me.  She just turned six and unfortunately her previous owner passed away so she was a little withdrawn at first, but she’s doing great now.  I’ve never had anyone to come home to, and I can’t believe what a difference it makes.  She sits with me when I’m going through files and crawls into my lap when she thinks I’m sad.  She likes to snuggle at night, and I wake up a lot less often even though she snores.  I can’t wait for you to meet her.

Alex, Is she actually smiling in that picture?  I’ve never thought about getting a dog, but you are making me reconsider.  I think I’ll just wait to meet your girl first.  Please send me a picture of the two of you together.  I’ve been worried about you out there by yourself so I am really glad you have her.  Make sure she takes good care of you.  Stay safe.

Alex reads Michael’s email to Maisey.  It might be silly, but he’s told her about Michael, about everyone in his life, but Michael more than anyone else.  “You’ll get to meet him one day, girl,” he tells her when he finishes the email and she lays her head in his lap.  “He’s going to love you.”

Despite the distance between them, Alex feels like he and Michael are moving toward something.  Maybe it’s because of the distance, maybe that’s what allows them to be more open with each other, to start building the friendship they both said they wanted, but never managed to achieve.  He takes Maisey for her final walk of the night and lets a little bit of hope simmer.

When he speaks to Maria later in the week, he’s reminded that nothing in his life is ever simple.

“Can you believe the Mayor asked me to put a donation jar at the bar for the Jesse Mane’s Memorial?” Maria rants.  “What is wrong with people?”

“What did you say?” Alex forces out as he feels himself going numb.

“I gave him my best smile and put the stupid thing on the bar.  And every night I take the money out and give it to the domestic violence shelter.”

Alex lets out a slow breath, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Maria’s voice softens.  “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I just forget that other people didn’t see the man I lived with.”

“Only because they didn’t want to,” Maria adds.  “That’s not your fault.”

He ends the call shortly after that and sits down to write another letter, just not to Michael.

Roswell City Council,

In light of the current fundraising campaign for a statue of Jesse Manes, there are some things you need to be aware of.  Master Sergeant Jesse Manes may have spent the majority of his life in the US Air Force, but he was no hero.  He had a long history of domestic abuse.  The following dates all correspond to emergency room visits made by his wife or children for suspicious injuries.  Sheriff Jim Valenti kept a file on Jesse Manes’ abusive actions although he chose not to act on it.  If you proceed with your plans to honor Jesse Manes, the file will be made public.  Not only will your hero be exposed as a fraud, the integrity of the Sheriff’s department will be brought under scrutiny.  

A Concerned Citizen

He sends it to Maria to mail so it will have a Roswell postmark and be less likely to be traced back to him.  It feels a little cowardly, and maybe he should be able to march into their meeting and tell them what an abusive piece of shit his father was.  But he’s still learning how to talk about it honestly, how to even think about what his father did without making excuses or downplaying it.  He doesn’t owe Rowell’s City Council part of his process.

Alex hopes the letter will be enough, that he won’t have to release the file, but he will.  A public tarnishing of Jim Valenti’s reputation isn’t something he wants, not for Kyle and Michelle, not even for himself.  He’d always assumed Jim suspected Jesse was abusing him, but he couldn’t act on it because Jesse was too careful to get caught, and Alex was too afraid to tell the truth.  Learning Jim had known exactly what Jesse was doing, not only to Alex, but was also aware of the years of beatings that drove his mother away, had been devastating.  Alex wonders if Jim didn’t consider him worth saving, and he holds that pain close, hoping no one else figures it out.

Alex, I guess the plans for a statue of your father have been abandoned.  Why do I think you had something to do with it?  Good for you, but I never would have let it happen.  Iz would have influenced every person in this town before I let that monstrosity go up.  Don’t get me wrong, Rosa and I would have had fun finding new ways to deface it every day, but I know you would never set foot in this town again as long as it stood.  I won’t let him drive you away again.  Stay safe.

The relief Alex feels knowing he won this round against his father, propels him to write Michael again.  But he abandons the light tone of his most recent letters for a level of honesty he could never manage in person.

Michael,

You’re right, I couldn’t live in or even visit a place where a statue of my father stood in judgement of me.  And that is what it would feel like.  He might as well still be alive just waiting to tell me what a failure I am.  Do you know what I feared most about him?  It wasn’t the abuse.  You know as well as I do how you get used to the violence and pain.  No, what scared me most is that he might be right about me.  When he was hitting me or choking me, he would tell me how he was doing it for my own good.  He would force me to look him in the eye while he told me I was weak and worthless, how if I didn’t change I would be better off dead.  He was going to make me into a real Manes man or I would die trying.  I could never stop him or fight him off so I felt as weak as he said I was, but my only other choice was to be like him. A coward or a monster, that’s all I could be.  After what he did to you, I knew he was right.  I was a coward.  I think that is part of why I left.  I kept waiting for you to see me the way he did.  As the weak, cowardly freak who couldn’t protect you and cost you your scholarship and your future.  So I went to war to learn to win battles.  But when I came home, you looked at me and saw a monster.  He was right again.

He spends the rest of the night curled up with Maisey.  She sits in his lap and licks his face when he stops petting her.  He feels guilty about sending it, but he mails the letter when they go on their evening walk.  Once they get back, she herds him to bed, and he falls asleep with her head on his chest.

When he gets the next email from Michael, he stares at the screen for almost an hour before opening it.  He can’t help the irrational part of his heart that fears Michael confirming that he sees the worst in Alex.

Alex, I almost called you when I read your letter, but I was afraid I wouldn’t know the right thing to say to make sure you heard me.  I’m not going to talk about your father.  Mostly because he doesn’t deserve another second of either of our lives, but also because after I destroyed two of the old junkers at the scrapyard while reading your letter, Sanders threatened to make me deal with old man Carruthers for the next year if I did it again.   You are not a coward, a freak or a monster.  I will tell you that as many times as you need to hear it.  You tried to protect me that day in the shed.  I remember that.  And everything that happened to me after wasn’t your fault.  I couldn’t tell you then, and nothing I say now will take away ten years of guilt.  But you know the truth about that night so please believe me when I tell you, even if your father hadn’t found us, my life still would have fallen apart. I won’t lie and say seeing you didn’t hurt sometimes, especially seeing you in your uniform.  I felt like you chose the Air Force over me, and I was punishing you for it.  I never should have compared you to your father or any other member of your family, especially once we knew what that really meant.  I regret that more than you know.  I see a lot of things when I look at you, and not all of them are good, but I have never seen a monster.  You are the only person I ever wanted to know the truth about me, the only person I wanted to know me.  We will have this conversation again, in person, so I can make sure you believe me.  Stay safe.

Alex lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  It’s not that he expected cruelty from Michael, but he hadn’t expected his perception of how much responsibility Alex should bear for what happened in the shed to differ so much.  He wants to argue that the impact of his father’s violence on Michael’s life was much more detrimental that Michael admits, but he also agrees with Michael that some things are better left in person.  There has been a freedom in communicating this way.  He trusts that Michael has felt the same freedom, and it has allowed both of them to be more honest, less reactionary.  But there are still things they need to be able to say directly to each other, to be able to discuss together.  So he puts the email in the drawer with the others, and lets it go.

Michael,

When I talked to Maria last week, she told me Isobel has been helping her plan some events for the bar.  I’m glad.  I hope they can find a way to figure out what it means for them to be family when they never even thought they could be friends.  Maria could really use some support with Mimi especially with Liz and I both gone.  And you and I both know what a blessing it is to have Maria DeLuca in your life.  I hope Isobel sees that as well.  Apparently we are in the rainy season now.  I have never seen so much rain in my life.  Maisey’s love of puddles is really making me miss the desert.  I have to hose her down after our walks now.  As you can see from the picture, even more than running through puddles, she loves being snuggled in a towel afterward.  

Alex, When you finally come home, I think we are all going to be more excited about finally meeting Maisey than seeing you.  I’m just kidding, but I can’t help showing off the pictures you send of her.  She’s just so cute.  Valenti’s convinced she’s really my dog, and I’m just hiding her somewhere.  Good thing he doesn’t know about my plans to kidnap her first chance I get.  Isobel and Maria are interesting to be around.  Sometimes I think they are friends, and the next thing I know one of them is storming off.  Rosa tells me it’s normal sister behavior, they’re just stuck at middle school levels of emotional maturity.  I think Mimi intimidates Isobel, but I’ll mention to Maria that it might be good for all of them to spend some time together.  Stay safe.

Almost exactly a year after Alex left Roswell, he gets an email from Michael that makes him think that was a huge mistake.

Alex, we finally killed Max’s evil doppelganger.  I know I haven’t mentioned him to you, but he was the Mr. Jones from 1947.  Locking him up is what my mom stayed for, what she had to do before leaving with Tripp.  We accidentally let him out after CrashCon.  There’s a lot we don’t know, but we think Max is cloned from him.  What we do know is that he was an evil bastard, the one who killed the Valenti at the crash site and ruined any slim hope of safety for everyone else, and years of captivity did nothing to improve his personality.  He really did not want to be captured again, and he’s been one step ahead of us for a long time.  It’s the research you’ve been sending that finally helped us figure out what he was doing and how we could stop him.  Thank you for that.  I’m a little concerned that the only other aliens we’ve met have been manipulative killers, but it’s not like we have much of a sample to go off of.  Regardless, he’s dead now, and I wanted to let you know before someone else told you.  Stay safe.

Maisey whines from the couch when Alex starts pacing the living room.  He can’t bring himself to reassure her.  Instead, hands still shaking, he picks up the phone and calls Michael.

“Alex, I guess you read the email.”

It’s the first time he’s heard Michael’s voice in a year, and he can’t speak.  He takes a few deep shuddering breaths and looks at the ceiling, trying not to cry.

“I’m ok, everyone’s ok,” Michael says when it becomes clear Alex isn’t responding to him.  “No one was hurt, I promise.”

“Why?” Alex finally forces out.  It’s one word, but he knows Michael hears all the questions behind it.

“There was nothing you could do.  For a long time it was just a crazy game of hide and seek.  It only got serious a few weeks ago, and we handled it.  I told you we used the research you found.  If we told you, you just would have worried and been upset that you weren’t here.”

“Guerin, I’m trained for this,” Alex snaps.”  “I’m the only one with real training.  I could have helped from here, I could have helped you track him.  And when you needed me, I would have come back.”

“And he would have killed you!” Michael snaps back.

“You just told me no one got hurt.  But you think I’m so useless he would have been able to kill me?” Alex laughs bitterly.  “You really don’t trust me to protect you.”

“That’s not why.  He would have taken one look at you and known what you mean to me.  He would have killed you on the spot or trapped you so deep in a nightmare, you would never get out of.”

Alex hears the certainty in Michael’s voice and it chills him.  He needs to know what Michael isn’t telling him.  “What did he do?”

“It doesn’t matter.  I told you it’s over.”  Michael protests.

“Michael.”

“I don’t know why he waited so long to act, maybe he needed to get stronger,” Michael begins reluctantly.  “A few weeks ago he managed to trap me, Max and Isobel.  He wanted us to join with him; he said if we joined our powers we could purge the Earth and rebuild it in our image.  When we told him we weren’t interested, he tried to persuade us.  What he can do in the mindscape is indescribable, so far beyond what not only Isobel, but also Noah could do.  He showed me what it would be like to have my mom, to have been raised by her.  He said it was my rightful life that was stolen for me, and I needed to punish the people who took it from me.”

Alex closes his eyes as he hears the tremor in Michael’s voice.  There is no comfort he can offer for that.

“That wasn’t the worst of it.  As much as I wanted to believe it, it felt like watching a movie. I knew it wasn’t real.  When I told him no, he told me I would be sorry, but he let me go.  I went home and we started working on a new plan to stop him.  The next morning Greg showed up at the airstream and told me,” Michael stops and takes a few audible breaths.  “He told me you were dead, killed in a car accident.  I don’t remember much after that.  I know I went to the Pony and got drunk and cried with Maria.  I stayed drunk until your funeral.  When they took the flag from your coffin, they took it to Greg, but he pointed to me.  They handed me your flag, and all I wanted to do was follow you into the ground.  And then I opened my eyes, and I was staring at Mr. Jones.  None of it was real, I’d never left the damn cave.  But it wasn’t like what he did with my mom, I felt every minute of it, I lived through it.”

“Michael, I’m right here.”  It’s a stupid thing to say, but Alex doesn’t know how to help.  Maisey nudges his thigh, and he wipes his eyes.  He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

“I was pretty motivated to stop him after that.  We figured out from the files you sent how to turn his mental powers against him using the same glass my mom used to seal him in.  I know it’s not what you want to hear, but keeping you away was the right call.  I don’t know if you could have recovered if he manipulated your reality like that.”

Alex wants to fight back and argue, but he’s still reeling from learning what Michael went through.  His need to take care of Michael surpasses everything else.  “How are you?”

“Not great,” Michael answers honestly.  “But I’m getting there.  Talking to you is helping.  I know it wasn’t real, but hearing your voice makes it easier to remember.  I don’t know what he did to Max and Izzy.  We haven’t been able to talk about it, not with each other.  But I’ve talked to my therapist.  I mean I told her it was a very vivid nightmare not alien mind manipulation, but we’re working through it.”

Alex wishes he was there so Michael could see him, wishes he could hold Michael when he needed a reminder that Alex was alive.  It’s tempting to get in the car and just drive to Michael regardless of the consequences, but reminds himself that Michael doesn’t want him there. “I’m sorry,” Alex whispers, apologizing for all of that and more.

“It’s not you, it’s not your fault.  I’m glad you were there, safe.  Look, Max is here.  I gotta go,” Michael sighs.  

‘I miss you,” Alex rushes out just before Michael hangs up.

Michael,

I know you think you made the right decision is keeping me out of the Mr. Jones situation, but it’s not your call to make.  Maybe I could have figured out how to stop him sooner so you didn’t have to go through that.  Or maybe you are right, and he would have killed me. Either way it was my choice, my risk to take.  And I will always choose to protect you.  Hearing what you went through and knowing I’m too late to help you is the worst feeling in the world.  I made my peace with death a long time ago, but I can never accept a world without you in it.  A lot of the battles I wanted to learn how to win were for you.  Let me fight for you.

Alex, what I hate the most about your letter is that you are right.  I did take your choice away from you.  I choose to keep you safe without asking for your input.  I apologized once for that, but when I had a chance to do something different, I didn’t.  And I would probably do it again.  Mr. Jones wanted to hurt me as much as possible, and he did that by taking you away from me.  I lived for ten years with the fear that you wouldn’t come home.  That fear hasn’t gone away.  Then you say things like you are at peace with dying, and shit like you said to me that night in the bunker (we still have to talk about that), and I see how you put yourself between me and danger.  I can’t risk your life if I have a choice because I need you to come home.  You said you missed me.  I miss you too.  So much.  So listen when I say this to you.  Stay safe.

Reading Michael’s email, Alex realizes it’s time to go home.  Michael is suffering, and Alex is halfway across the country. He destroyed the lab and the decoy files months ago.  He can finish the encryptions anywhere.  He’s stayed because it was comfortable, he and Michael were both communicating better with distance between them.  But Alex needs more than comfortable. He wants to continue building his relationship with Michael,and they are at a point where they need to see each other and be able to touch each other for that to happen.  It feels like he’s running out of time.

Alex calls Flint the next day.

“I need your help,” he says as soon as Flint answers.

“I told you to be careful,” Flint’s voice is hard, and Alex tries to ignore how much it makes him sound like their father.

“It’s not what you think.  I took care of the facility with no problems.  I need out, and you know who can help me.”

“What does that mean, you want out?  Request a transfer.”

“No, I want out of the Air Force.  I want to go home.”

“You mean you want to go to Michael,” Flint snorts derisively. 

“That’s none of your business,” Alex forces all emotion out of his voice.

“I didn’t believe Dad when he told me kidnapping you would make him cooperate.  Why would he take a chance of killing himself, his entire species just to save you?” Flint sounds confused.  “After everything Dad showed me, it’s still hard to believe they could be anything like us. That they are capable of feeling something other than hate and violence.  But I know he at least believes he loves you.”

“I love him too.  I just want a chance to show him.”

“I’ll send you a name.” He hangs up before Alex can thank him.

Flint’s tip leads him to an officer with enough knowledge of Project Sheppard to want to do anything to keep it from becoming public.  He also has enough power to help Alex while not being so important that his decisions draw attention. Even starting with the right person, it takes Alex four more months to negotiate his way into an early honorable discharge.  

He and Michael correspond a few times during those months.  They don’t talk about Mr. Jones or the fact that they both continue to choose risking themselves in the name of protecting each.  They go back to sharing pieces of their lives, talking about easy things like movies and bad days at work.  But there are no confessions or baring of their souls.  Neither of them mention the future or even the simple honesty of admitting they miss each other.  He thinks of it as taking a breath rather than a step backward.

Alex doesn’t tell anyone he’s returning to Roswell, just packs and loads up Maisey and starts the long drive home.  He goes straight to Sander’s, but the airstream isn’t there.  He doesn’t find it anywhere else he looks, from Max and Isobel’s to Foster’s Ranch, so he returns to his dark and empty house confused and discouraged.  

The next morning he makes sure Maisey is comfortable in her new surroundings and works up the courage to look for Michael in one more place.  The Wild Pony’s parking lot is empty.  He’s both relieved and more confused about where Michael could be.  It’s too early for Maria to have come down to the bar so he knocks on her door.

Maria flings herself into his arms as soon as she sees him.  He holds her close and feels like he’s home.  They sit in her kitchen drinking coffee and enjoying each other’s company.  He waits until they’ve caught up on everything else before finally asking the question he came here for.

“Do you know where Guerin’s staying these days?  I didn’t tell him I was coming, but I was hoping to see him.”

Maria’s face falls.  “Oh honey, he left town a few months ago.  Didn’t he tell you?”

He shakes his head unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

“I’m sure Isobel has his address.”

He thinks of the emails Michael's sent in just the last few weeks when he never said anything about leaving and shakes his head again, “No, he’ll tell me if he wants me to know.”

He leaves soon after, the joy of their reunion diminished by the question of why Michael left town without telling him.  When he returns home, he takes Maisey for a walk before digging out the pen and notebook he’s been using to write all year.

Michael,

I know you are still getting my letters so you must have your mail forwarded.  I guess our timing is still all wrong.  I came back to Roswell yesterday, but you’ve already left. Leaving Roswell has always been a relief, but while I was in Louisiana, I missed it.  Or at least I thought I did. It’s nice to see Maria and Kyle in person, to be closer to Greg, but I learned how to keep those relationships even while I was away.  All the things I hate about Roswell haven’t changed, but I found a way out of my contract with the Air Force to come back here.  And now that I am here, I realize I didn’t miss Roswell at all, I missed you. I wanted to surprise you, to come to you when I was free of the Air Force so you would know I was serious.  Maybe if I told you I was trying to come home, you would have told me you were leaving.  I thought this was finally our time.  I know I was wrong about that, but I still want you to know I came home to you, to tell you I missed you and that I love you.  

A week goes by before he gets an email from Michael.  He spends that week catching up with his friends and trying to figure out what comes next.  Maisey charms everyone, and he halfheartedly looks into the job offers he already received, but he doesn’t unpack, unable to shake the lingering feeling of still missing home.

He stares so long at the subject line, “Your timing is perfect” that he almost misses the fact the email is from the University of Colorado.  Heart pounding, he opens it.

Alex, if I left Roswell and asked you to come with me, would you say yes?  

PS: My landlord allows dogs.

Alex forwards the address in Boulder to his phone and starts planning his next trip. He lets out a breath he’s been holding and feels the tension he’s been carrying turn to anticipation.  He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but this is what Alex was waiting for. 

Maisey licks his face and wiggles in his lap, sensing his excitement. He smiles and hugs her close.  “We’re going home, girl.  For real, this time.”  

Michael,

I hope I get to you before this letter does, but I wanted to put this in writing for you.  The answer is yes.

Alex is right, he gets to Boulder before his letter does.  Michael opens it in their kitchen with Alex’s arms wrapped around him while he looks over his shoulder, reading along with him as if he doesn't know what it says.

Michael turns just enough to kiss him.  “I’m going to ask you another question one day.”

“The answer will still be yes,” Alex says as he holds Michael tighter and presses his lips into the curve of his neck.

“Good to know,” Michael pulls away just long enough to stick the letter on their refrigerator next to the picture from his going away party at The Wild Pony and one of Maisey and Alex in matching University of Colorado sweatshirts.

[adiwriting]

Sunday Morning 11.5/?

So the Sunday Morning fic today practically demanded a follow up so that the boys could resolve something both with each other and with Maria. So while I don’t think I’ll be making this a regular occurrence, have a bonus fic today! 

If you haven’t read this morning’s fic, see here. 

Thanks to @cosmicclownboy​ for the gif 

Sunday Morning Evening Week 11

There is a lot to love about Alex’s house: the bed with plenty of room for two; the fenced-in backyard where Michael has been considering putting in a garden for weeks now; the kitchen that provides enough space to actually cook full meals, not just half-assed omelettes and killer quesadillas; the big sofa deep enough for two people to lay together…

But by and large, the best part about Alex’s house is that it has Alex. Michael would happily live under a rock so long as Alex is there with him. 

The sun is starting to set and the two of them are in the backyard together while the dogs all play. Michael is relaxing on the chaise with Alex between his legs, laying back against him. They’ve been lazy ever since they got back from Isobel’s, both exhausted and in need of a nap that never came. Instead, they have just been lounging around in silence for the last two hours, occasionally laughing at something one of the dogs is doing. 

It’s good. It’s comfortable. But they are both avoiding a talk they really need to be having. Alex sure as hell isn’t going to break first given that the topic they need to discuss is him, so it’s up to Michael. 

“So, we’re alone now,” he starts awkwardly. 

Alex snorts, which doesn’t make him feel any more at ease. “Smooth, Guerin.” 

“Can we talk about what Liz told me?” he asks, shifting around. Alex sighs and sits up. There is maybe three feet between them, but it feels like an entire football field with the way Alex is avoiding meeting his eyes. 

“I’m not sure it’s really any of your business or hers,” Alex bristles. 

Michael doesn’t respond right away. He doesn’t want to start a fight with Alex, which he will most certainly do if he keeps pushing. They’ve been doing so good since getting back together. They’ve been together eleven weeks and not once have they fought. They hardly even bicker. He’s not eager to see what a fight between them will do to the relationship they’ve been building together. 

Still, he doesn’t think Alex will fix this thing with Maria without some nudging and he knows their distance has been making him miserable. Wouldn’t it be selfish of him to let this go in order to save his own relationship with Alex at the expense of one of Alex’s most important friendships? 

“Just say whatever it is you want to say,” Alex says with a roll of his eyes. 

Peter comes over to them and attempts to climb up into Alex’s lap, but he’s not tall enough yet to make that jump on his own. Alex leans down to pick him up. Perhaps he’ll be less likely to yell at Michael with one of the puppies in his arms. Michael can only hope... 

“You know that Maria and I broke up for more than her refusal to wear the bracelet, right?” he asks. 

Alex doesn’t look at him, his eyes are trained on Peter, but he shrugs and says, “yeah.” So Michael knows he’s at least listening. That’s something. 

“She broke up with me because she knew I was always going to love you,” he explains. “And she was right.”

“If she hadn’t broken up with you, you’d still be with her,” Alex says. He says it more to Peter than he does to him, but he still says it and that’s a start. 

Michael doesn’t respond right away. Alex deserves more than a quick, defensive answer. He deserves the truth. That’s the only way this thing between them is going to work. So Michael swallows down the knot in his throat and tries to quell the growing anxiety that the world is about to crumble around him. He tries to trust in this thing between them that has somehow managed to survive the last twelve years, despite abusive fathers, murder, war, alien serial killers, bomb plots, and literal lost limbs. They can get past the fact that Michael dated Alex’s best friend. 

“I’m not sure I ever honestly thought that you and I could get to this place… But this? What we have here? This has been my dream since we were 17. I would choose this life with you a thousand times before any other option,” he admits, hoping Alex believes him. 

Alex’s eyes finally look up and he’s able to see his face. Michael can read the fear in him and he hates that he’s ever given Alex a reason to doubt this. 

“If I could take it back—” 

“No, please,” Alex cuts him off before the lie can roll off his tongue. “You had every right to date Maria. I mean, I would have, had that even been an option for me. She’s a good person and I wanted you to have something good.” 

“You’re my something good,” he rushes to make clear. 

It earns him a smile, which feels like victory enough. Perhaps this doesn’t have to end in yelling and tears. 

“We weren’t good together,” Alex says. “You were right, when you told me that, as hard as it was to hear at the time. We both had a lot of growing to do and I’m not sure we could have done that together.” 

Michael nods, because he’s right. As hard as it had been to push Alex away after he’d started coming around last year, it had been the right decision. They both had a lot of things to work through separately before they were ready to meet each other in the middle and start something new. 

“We’re good together now,” he says, relieved when Alex reaches out his hand for Michael’s. 

“I know,” Alex says, squeezing his hand in reassurance. “Sometimes it’s just hard to trust that it will stay that way.” 

“Because you think that I’m going to leave?” he asks, trying to understand so he can do better. 

“I just feel like, whenever things are good in my life, there’s always something ready to jump in and strip it away,” Alex says. “And we don’t have a good track record with this dating thing. I worry that you’ll get bored or that I’ll get scared, or that we’ll get in a fight and both say something we can’t take back…” 

“We’re going to get in a fight,” he says, sitting up further in his chair and scooting closer to Alex so that he can take both of his hands in his own. “We’re going to get mad and say things we don’t mean. Love isn’t this perfect fix. But we don’t have to let this thing break. We can choose to push through, together, everyday. That’s what I want.” 

“That’s what I want too,” Alex agrees. Michael lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. 

“Good,” he says as Alex leans in to give him a sweet kiss, all the while Peter attempts to nudge Michael away, never willing to share his daddy’s affections. Alex picks Peter up and places him on the ground before standing up. 

“We should probably start dinner,” Alex says. 

“We still need to talk about Maria,” he says, standing up as well. Alex groans, but doesn’t protest any further. They gather up the dogs and bring them all inside as they head to the kitchen to figure out something to cook. 

“My fight with Maria honestly doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Alex says, sitting up on the counter as Michael pulls the ingredients out to make a stir fry. 

“Then it shouldn’t stress you out this much to talk about it,” Michael counters. 

Alex narrows his eyes at him but the slight upturn of his lips lets Michael know that he’s at least as amused as he is annoyed at his attempts to get him talking. 

“I don’t understand why you care about this,” Alex says. “It doesn’t impact you.” 

“It impacts you,” he says, meaningfully at first, until the words sink in and he scoffs. “And it does impact me.” 

Alex gives him a disbelieving look. 

“If you aren’t talking to Maria then I’m not talking to Maria,” he explains, though he’s pretty sure that should be obvious. It’s like the first rule of dating. Or that’s what he’s learned from watching Isobel over the years. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop talking to Maria,” Alex says with a roll of his eyes. He hops off the counter and uses his hip to move Michael out of the way to start preparing dinner when it’s clear that Michael is too distracted to focus on the task. “You can talk to her.” 

“I know that I can,” Michael says, annoyed. “And I do. But not about anything that matters.” 

“Well then pick up the phone and call her, Guerin.” 

Clearly this is going well. Michael looks at his feet where John is nuzzling into his leg and gives him a look while he gestures at Alex’s back, as if to say, ‘do you see what I have to deal with?’ John is of course as useless at getting Alex to talk as he is adorable. Michael rolls his eyes and looks back up. 

“You’re mad that she won’t wear the bracelet,” he says. 

Alex slams the knife he’s using to cut up the vegetables on the counter. “Of course I’m mad.” 

Michael doesn’t say anything right away and Alex takes a few steadying breaths before he replies again, this time more calm, “I don’t get how she can be this careless with her own life. She’s seen what’s happened to Mimi.” 

“I know,” Michael agrees. “I tried to talk to her about it, but she’s going to make her own decisions.” 

“Well you didn’t try hard enough,” he says. “You just let her break up with you.” 

Michael feels like he’s suffering from whiplash. “I’m sorry, now you’re mad that we broke up?” 

“No, of course not,” Alex says with a sigh as he deflates. “I’m just so frustrated.” 

“I know.” 

Alex allows Michael to step into his space and wrap his arms around him from behind. Alex relaxes into his touch. 

“I can’t watch her deteriorate, I won’t,” Alex whispers. 

“We won’t let that happen,” he says, placing a comforting kiss to the side of his neck. 

“When I was growing up, I didn’t have many people that cared for me. I didn’t become good friends with Liz until high school. And Kyle and I were friends as kids, but he was never able to handle anything serious. Even my brothers were assholes. I know that Greg is great now, but back then, he had no idea how to comfort me,” Alex explains. 

It’s the most Michael has ever heard Alex talk about his childhood and he doesn’t move, doesn’t hardly breathe for fear that Alex will stop talking. 

“I had Maria. And I had Mimi. I would spend every night I could get away at their house. Watching Mimi deteriorate has been miserable. She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a mom. A real mom at least…” 

He trails off and Michael doesn’t say anything when Alex wipes his tears with the back of his hand. 

“I can’t lose Maria.” 

Michael nods in understanding before realizing that Alex can’t see him, so he kisses his neck again to remind him that he’s here. Alex squeezes at the arms around his waist before he goes back to cutting the vegetables. Michael relaxes his hold on him but doesn’t let go. He watches as Alex cuts the bell peppers, then the carrots, and finally the broccoli. It isn’t until he’s having to let go so Alex can grab the chicken and a pan that he figures out how to word what he wants to say. 

“I get that you’re scared, and when you’re scared you push people away because it’s easier,” he says carefully. “But all you’re doing by distancing yourself from Maria is making sure that you lose her sooner.” 

Alex pauses from where he’s digging around in the cabinet for a pan and trying to hold back Wendy who’s trying to crawl inside. He looks at Michael like he actually hears him for a change. 

“Just something to think about,” he says, feeling a bit smug that he actually got Alex to both talk and come around. “I’m gonna go take them for a walk,” he adds, picking up a protesting Wendy before she can lick all of the pans. He figures Alex could use the time and space to process. He usually does. 

Michael is at the door getting all the dogs in their harnesses when Alex steps out of the kitchen to give him a playful glare. “You know you’re an insufferable ass, right?” 

He lets out a loud laugh. He probably is, but if it means that Alex won’t pine after his best friend anymore, then he can live with it. 

“Call Maria,” he says, grabbing the tandem leash for the puppies. “We can put the babies to bed early tonight and reward each other for doing hard things today.”

Alex scoffs. “Going to brunch at your sister’s is not a hard thing.” 

“Speak for yourself.”

Alex sighs deeply, but gives him that fond look that always has his heart growing three times the normal size. He steps into the hallway and gets Bell onto her own leash while Michael finishes with the puppies. Once they are all done, Alex hands him Bell’s leash, his eyes serious as he says, “Thank you.” 

Michael shrugs it off like it’s nothing, even though he’s pretty sure it’s everything. “Sometimes we just need to help each other out of our own way, right?” 

It’s what Alex had told Michael the night they’d decided to get back together. Back when Michael was still coming up with a thousand excuses as to why he wasn’t good enough for Alex. 

“Right,” Alex says, sounding more like he’s trying to convince himself than agree with Michael’s statement. 

Michael can see that he’s mentally trying to talk himself up to calling Maria and thinks perhaps the whole thing will go easier if he stays out of the house for a bit with the dogs. 

“I’ll walk them to the dog park down the street. Why don’t you just call me when you’re ready for us to come home,” he says. 

And that’s exactly what he does. He takes the dogs to the dog park where they play and he reluctantly socializes with their annoying neighbors for a solid forty-five minutes. But when Alex does finally call, he sounds so much lighter than he has in weeks and Michael knows that the entire exhausting day has been well worth it. From the annoying brunch at his sisters to the difficult conversation with Alex. If it’s what Alex needed, then Michael is happy to have been able to give that to him. 

Not that he’ll ever tell Isobel that, she’ll start making Sunday morning brunches a regular event, and Michael isn’t about to give up his lazy Sundays in bed with Alex. Not for the world. 

Tagged: @callieramics @redstalkingdeath Want to be tagged? let me know. 

[bestillmyslashyheart]

Malex Week Day 4: Free Day

+1

Michael was on the couch huddled under Alex’s favorite fleece blanket when Alex walked in the door. They hadn’t had plans and Alex technically wasn’t expecting to see Michael tonight but he wasn’t upset to find him making himself at home in Alex’s house.

“Hey,” Michael greeted. He turned his face up as Alex walked past to the bedroom and Alex obligingly stopped and kissed him hello.

“Hey,” he greeted warmly. He heard the TV unpause as he changed but he paid it no mind. Michael had a varied taste in movies and TV shows that Alex didn’t always agree with but it never bothered him to sit and watch with him. Especially after a day like the one he’d had. 

No, after today, curling up under a blanket with Michael was exactly what he needed. 

Alex took his prosthetic and uniform off before taking a quick shower and changing into sweats. Michael paused the TV again as he came out of the room and a quick glance at the screen gave Alex no hints as to what he was watching. 

“You want something to eat?” Michael asked just as Alex was dropping onto the couch next to him.

“Mm. Maybe later.” Alex untucked one end of the blanket from around Michael and shuffled so they were pressed together, the blanket over both of them. Michael looked over at him, amusement on his face. This time it was Alex who turned his face up for a kiss and Michael who willingly obliged. “So. What are we watching?” Michael didn’t answer. When Alex looked at him, he saw a flush creeping up the back of his neck. “What is it?”

Instead of saying anything, Michael clicked play. A moment later, Alex’s “is that Reese Witherspoon?” had him pausing it again. Alex turned on him. “Are you watching a romcom?”

Michael squirmed. “Maybe?”

Alex looked at the screen. He didn’t recognize anything else about the movie but he wasn’t exactly an expert in the actress’ filmography. “Huh, okay.” He waved at the remote. “Play on.”

Michael sagged in apparent relief. 

“Wait,” Alex said, with Michael’s finger perched over the button. “You know I don’t care if you like romcoms, right? I’m just surprised.”

“Yeah, I know,” Michael replied. “It’s not usually my thing but it was on so I figured why not.”

Alex nodded. “Good a reason as any. What’s it called?”

“Sweet Home Alabama.”

One.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Rosa yelled. She spread her hands wide across the table. “It is my birthday and I can finally, according to whichever calendar you prefer to use, drink legally. However! We all know that’s a bad idea. So. I am nominating all of you to drink for me.”

“Isn’t that why we’re here?” Michael smirked.

Rosa balled up a wet napkin and threw it at him. “21 shots. Tonight. Figure out how without killing yourselves.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. “That’s a lot, Rosa.”

“I’ll be counting.”

“Rosa,” Liz cautioned. “We love you and we are happy to celebrate with you but I’d really like it if we didn’t end up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning tonight.”

“Well someone should since I can’t.”

“Alright, pod squad, with me,” Isobel decided. “We’re splitting it up. 7 each.”

“Hey no-” Rosa protested.

Isobel stared her down. “You said to figure out how. We’re sharing. Deal.”

“Hmph, fine.”

Liz immediately grabbed Alex and Maria. “We’re sharing!” She looked around and grabbed Kyle’s arm. “Him too.”

Everyone laughed and Maria started divvying up the shots. Rosa watched as they all tossed them back, urging them on when they took too long for her liking. After that, Alex sort of lost the plot a bit. All he knew was that Michael was warm and his arm was comfortably heavy around Alex’s back. 

Michael and Maria got into a friendly argument at one point, something about one of them being an idiot? Alex wasn’t really paying attention, if he was being honest.

Then suddenly Michael said, “Honey, just because I talk slow, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” 

Alex blinked and looked over at him in surprise. First, because Michael had never called anyone ‘honey’ in his life and now was an odd time to start giving Maria pet names. Second, because the words sounded awfully familiar. 

Maria immediately started protesting the pet name, loudly and repeatedly, but Michael ignored her in favor of turning to Alex with a shit eating grin and a wink. Alex blinked, confused, before it hit him.

He groaned and dropped his head onto Michael’s shoulder. “You’re quoting the damn movie now?”

Michael pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. “It’s a good movie.”

Alex didn’t disagree but that didn’t mean he was about to start quoting it. As he looked at Michael’s face, he could only hope that this would be the only time it happened.

Two

It wasn’t the only time it happened. Since Rosa’s birthday, Michael had found no less than eight occasions to slip in Sweet Home Alabama references.  It hadn’t even been two weeks yet.

No one else seemed to get any of them, if the strange glances Michael got when he let out one of the more obscure ones was any indication, and Alex wasn’t sure if that made him more annoyed or happy. On the one hand he was absolutely suffering alone here but on the other hand, Michael always gave him a conspiratorial look and a wink after one of his references and Alex might actually punch someone if he had to share that. 

Then again, he might just punch Michael if he didn’t stop.

“Alex Manes!” 

Alex stood up slowly and looked out the small window over the sink. Kyle’s mom, the Sheriff, stood outside, hands on her hips and a completely fed up expression on her face. Michael stood next to her, an all to familiar grin on his face. “He just won’t leave, Sheriff!”

Alex dried his hands on the semi-clean rag Michael kept next to the sink and slowly left the Airstream, stepping carefully on those damn steps he hated. “Sheriff,” he greeted. “What seems to be the problem?”

Sheriff Valenti sighed heavily, like she knew this was a waste of her precious time. “Mr. Guerin here says that you’re trespassing and refusing to leave.”

“...he gave me a key. And he hasn’t asked me to leave.” Alex glared at Michael. Michael grinned back.

“Well,” she sighed. “Guess there’s not much I can do then.” She tipped her hat to Michael with a look that could freeze hell. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”

“Wait!” Michael called. “Isn’t there some law against vandalism?” The Sheriff stopped and half turned back to them with a raised eyebrow. “The lyrics spray painted on the side of the UFO Emporium a couple of years back?”

“For fuck’s sake, Guerin!” Alex yelled. He’d been drunk and maudlin on one of his trips home. So not his fault.

The Sheriff closed her eyes. “Too long ago.” Didn’t stop her from giving Alex an evil eye. Alex shivered, not used to Kyle’s mom not loving him.

“Guerin stole Kyle’s hubcaps after graduation!” He shouted as she tried to walk away again.

Michael cursed when she froze. “Too long ago!” He tried. 

She turned around. “Anything else?”

“Alex dropped the water balloons off the roof of the Crashdown last year! Weren’t there like three car accidents that day?” 

Alex gaped. He’d been channeling his inner Peyton Sawyer that day and Michael was not allowed to use it against him. 

“Boys,” the Sheriff pinched her nose. 

“Is there still a warrant out for whoever stole the Sheriff’s truck about ten years ago? Took it for a joyride and brought it back missing both mirrors and a dented wheel well?”

Michael froze. “Oh please. Like I could tip a cow by myself.” He only smirked when Alex stared at him as the full realization of what was happening hit him. “Or steal the Sheriff’s, aka my godfather’s, keys from his desk.”

The Sheriff sighed and pulled out her cuffs.

Later, when they were sitting next to each other in the one cell of the station, Max looking in at them with his disappointed face while Jenna took pictures, Alex muttered, “really?”

“Worth it,” Michael smiled.

Three

Alex was not expecting to walk into the Wild Pony and find his brother standing at the bar. He hadn’t even known he was in Roswell. “Greg?”

Greg turned around. “Alex! Hey!”

Alex stared at him. Or rather, at the small child strapped to his chest. “You have a baby. In a bar.” He immediately closed his eyes when he realized what he’d said.

Michael whooped and kissed him soundly. “I love you.”

Four

“Ugh,” Isobel groaned loudly when the hot woman walked away from her. She turned to Michael and Alex. “Am I doing it wrong?” She shook her head. “No, of course not. Something’s wrong with her.”

“Yes,” Alex nodded sagely. “Clearly the problem is her.”

Isobel glared at him. “I am choosing to ignore your sarcasm.”

“Choose away,” Alex smirked. “Why are you trying to pick up women anyway?”

Isobel slid into the booth opposite them. “Have you heard of a little thing called same-sex sexual attraction? It’s when women want to have sex with other women.”

Michael snorted into his drink. Alex only rolled his eyes. “Yes, thank you Isobel for that enlightenment. I only meant, why are you trying to pick up women here?” Isobel glanced around the familiar walls of the Wild Pony.

“You think I can’t pick up a woman here?” She scoffed. “Watch me.”

And they did. Michael and Alex sat back and watched as Isobel crashed and burned three straight times. Every time, the woman walked back to her very male date, though Alex did note that two of them continued to shoot curious glances Isobel’s way. 

Isobel slunk back to their table and sat down with a heavy sigh. “I’m not doing it wrong,” she defended immediately.

“Oh, why don’t you go to a gay bar?” Alex and Michael exchanged a look when they spoke in unison. 

“Alex…” Michael said, wonder in his voice. 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Whatever. We’re not talking about it.” Michael laughed and kissed him firmly.

“Ugh, you two are so weird.”

Five

“So. Alex.” Liz and Rosa turned eerily identical looks on him that made him take an actual step back.

“What?” He asked warily.

They exchanged a look. “When are you gonna put a ring on it?” Rosa nodded to where Michael was fixing Isobel’s car. He’d lost his shirt at some point but Alex wasn’t mad about it.

“It’s only been a few months,” Alex replied. Really, it was a month shy of a year. Or, twelve years depending on how you looked at it, he supposed.

Maria scoffed. “So? We all know it’s gonna happen. Just a matter of when.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kyle added.

Alex gave him his best betrayed look. “You too?”

Kyle shrugged, unrepentant. “Just saying.”

Alex looked at his friends' faces and sighed. He drained the last of his beer and stood up, fishing the box out of his pocket as he did. 

“Oh my god!” Rosa whisper yelled. “Are you serious?”

Alex grinned and shrugged. “Might as well, right?” He turned around. “Guerin!”

Michael looked over. He was a mess, sweat dripping off of him and matting his hair together, oil streaks on his face and chest. Alex looked at him and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. “Yeah?”

There were some frantic noises from behind him followed by equally frantic shushing. Michael looked at their friends in confusion but quickly shifted his gaze back to Alex when he stepped closer. 

Carefully, Alex crouched down. He couldn’t get all the way down to one knee but he could get close enough. Michael stared at him wide-eyed as he held out the box. “Marry me?” He opened the box to show the ring.

Michael stared at it then at him then again at the ring. He reached out and took it from Alex, one hand helping him stand up. “Michael?” Alex asked, when Michael didn’t say anything.

Michael looked at him, a familiar look in his eyes. “Why would you want to be married to me for, anyhow?”

There was a strangled gasp from behind him but Alex ignored it. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes at Michael’s ridiculousness but more of him was just plain fond so he smiled and said his line. “So I can kiss you anytime I want.”

Michael beamed and kissed him.

“You fucking nerds!” Isobel yelled. “Fucking Sweet Home Alabama quotes in your proposal. I don’t even know you anymore Michael.”

Bonus 

Michael closed his eyes and gently nuzzled Alex's hair. He was half asleep, tired from their busy day and the night's activities, and he was pretty sure Alex was actually asleep, but the thought that had been niggling at him all day would not go away.

"Alex?"

Alex hmm'd sleepily but otherwise didn't react. Michael poked him in the hip. 

"What?" Alex cracked open one eye to glare at him. The effect was utterly ruined by the pure fondness in the look. 

"Did you know," Michael started off, trying vainly to hold the grin back. "I gave my heart away a long time ago." Alex groaned loudly and buried his face in Michael's chest. He didn't let it deter him for a moment. "My whole heart. And I never really got it back."

Alex glowered privately for a moment before rolling off of Michael with a heavy sigh. With his head on the pillow next to him, Alex turned to look at him. "Good," he said. "I'm keeping it."

"You better." Michael rolled over and braced his hands on either side of Alex's shoulders, hovering just slightly over him before Alex grabbed his hips and pulled him down. "Because you're the first boy I ever kissed, Alex. And I want you to be the last."

"I will be," Alex promised. He cupped Michael's face in his left hand, the feeling of Alex's ring on his skin causing his eyes to fall closed, and pulled him down into a kiss. 

[pastelwitchling]

For Forever (2/2)

read on ao3

***

When Max had walked into the sheriff’s station to find Michael behind a cell, Michael had fully expected the resigned sigh.

“Seriously?” he asked. “I thought you were done with this.”

“Long got in my way.”

Max faltered. “Michael, tell me you didn’t actually throw Forrest into a window.”

Michael’s eye twitched at the idea, and the corner of his lips tugged upward in a smirk. “No,” he said, and Max’s shoulders slumped. “No, but his cousin is just as much fun to toss over a pool table.”

Max leaned against a desk, his arms crossed. A moment of silence, then, “You want to talk about it?”

“I was having a drink and he bumped into me,” Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Not much to talk about.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Max said quietly.

Michael’s smirk turned smaller. He knew exactly what his brother meant. Didn’t mean he had to answer.

“You look worse than yesterday, did you see Alex or something?”

Michael’s heart gave a traitorous thump in his chest at the mere mention of Alex’s name. “Saw him. We chatted.”

Max looked concerned. “About what?”

“Why does it matter?”

Max leveled him with his dark eyes. “About what, Michael?”

Michael swallowed, and sniffed, looking away. It seemed different now, talking to Max. Ever since he’d almost lost him, he realized how badly he’d needed him. He was good at that; being the genius when it was too late for it to matter anymore.

“He ended things.”

Max’s brows pinched together. “I – I’m confused, doesn’t that happen a lot between you guys? Just go see him again and tell him –”

“No,” Michael said, more edge in his voice than he’d intended. He dialed it back. “No. He ended everything. Says he can’t trust me after Maria, says he knows he’s just my – my backup, and he’s fine with it! He’s happy, even! Relieved!Isn’t that great? Now there’s nothing holding him back from following Forrest to New York or Europe, or wherever gay emo poets go to be at one with the earth or whatever.”

Max said nothing for a moment. Then, “So he’s just done.”

Michael nodded once, a lump in his throat. “He’s just done.”

Max tilted his head. “Are you?”

“What?”

He stood. “Alex always fought like hell for you, even when you didn’t deserve it.”

“I get it, okay?” Michael said through grit teeth, his eyes burning. “I’m no good for him. He’s better off without me.”

“No,” Max said fiercely, coming up to the bars. “Not even close, brother. You broke Alex’s heart, you have to fix it. He’s done his fighting, now it’s your turn.”

Michael shook his head. “He doesn’t want me around.”

“He thinks he’s your second choice, right?” Max said. “That’s what he doesn’t want. Look –” he crouched down so that he and Michael, who was slumped against the bench, were on the same eye level. “You love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Michael said without hesitation. Max chuckled, like the answer was obvious.

“Then show him,” he said. “Tell him every minute. Don’t let Forrest take him away from you.”

Michael swallowed, and tried for a light tone that he didn’t feel, “You’re saying I shouldthrow him out the window?”

Max sighed, raising a brow at him. “Did Wyatt Long even hit you?”

“Sure,” Michael grinned. “Rednecks really don’t like it when you imply they’re sleeping with their tractor buddies.”

Michael felt ridiculous. Max had bailed him out of his cell no more than two hours ago, and he was sure that this bordered on stalking and would land him back in one. He couldn’t help it.

He’d just barely gone back to his trailer to get a quick shower, and he’d gotten a text from Isobel. She must have spoken to Max, because the whole message had consisted of a single picture of Alex’s profile as he leaned against the counter at the Crashdown, clearly unaware his photo was being taken, and the words; This is your chance, he’s alone.

Michael had never driven so dangerously. He’d parked in front of the diner, and paused. He thought he’d imagined it in the picture Isobel had sent, but it had been clear to him, even through the glass, that Alex was tired.

He was leaning too heavily on his left leg, as if just touching the ground with his other side pained him. His fingers were rubbing into his thigh, and his smile was tight until he sat down, his eyes fluttering with no small amount of relief.

Michael couldn’t find it in him to go inside, watching Alex carefully from the outside, considering the way he seemed too tired to even eat. Michael wondered if he would be welcome to sit beside Alex now, to hold him and take care of him like he wanted to.

Then a hand tapped his shoulder, and he looked over his shoulder to find a very unimpressed Isobel.

“Are you kidding me?” she greeted. “He is ten feet away from you, just go up to him.”

Michael swatted at her peering over his shoulder like she was a fly. “You don’t get it,” he told her, returning his gaze to Alex. “Something’s wrong with him.”

She flicked his ear.

“Ow, Isobel!”

“Then go ask him!” she demanded. “Be his knight in shining armor!”

“I can’t just ask –”

“Would you have done it if it was DeLuca?” she said, and Michael felt as if she’d just shot him.

“That’s different,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That’s –”

“Yeah, I know,” Isobel rolled her eyes. “Lower stakes. Thing is, little brother –”

“We’re all the same age,” Michael said.

“—The higher the stakes, the more you have to risk,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Do you want him back or not?”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Don’t ask me that. You know what the answer is.”

Isobel’s eyes softened. “Then go get him. While you still have him alone. Or do you plan to wait until Forrest shows up and does your job?”

Michael swallowed and looked back at Alex. He had his cheek rested on his palm, his brows pinched as if uncomfortable. Michael tilted his hat down and exhaled slowly as he forced one foot in front of the other.

He didn’t check to see Isobel’s reaction as he opened the diner door and stood a moment, staring at Alex in his booth, seemingly completely inattentive to whoever had just walked in. When Michael sat down across from him, he realized why.

“Took you long enough,” Alex said first. “I thought you would spend the rest of the day watching me from behind your truck.”

Michael ducked his head, his tongue in his cheek. “So you knew. Of course you knew. There’s usually not much you don’t.”

Alex slumped further down in his seat, rubbing his eyes as his milkshake sat untouched. “Not today, Guerin, okay? I get it, you’re very macho, you don’t need anybody, good for you. I just can’t deal with it right now.”

Michael’s smirk turned pursed. Was this really what Alex thought he would say? Some line about how much better off he was now that they weren’t together? Had he expected Michael to give up on them this quickly? The thought almost broke Michael’s heart.

“Does it hurt?” he asked instead of all of that. “Your leg.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

Michael scoffed, his smirk bitter. “But you’ll tell Long, right?”

“Forrest is signing some papers at the hospital,” Alex said coldly, “because apparently, someone put Wyatt in a neck brace.”

“Damn,” Michael didn’t back down under Alex’s glare. “Was that all? I could’ve sworn I broke a rib or two.”

Alex leaned forward. “You didn’t have to start something with him, Guerin. I don’t like Wyatt Long any more than you do, but you walked into that fight.”

Michael huffed a hollow chuckle. “Yeah? That what you think?”

“No,” Alex said angrily, all pretense of indifference gone. “What I think is that you are just upset that you want something you can’t have. If I wasn’t with Forrest, the only injury his cousin would be suffering right now would be a hangover.”

“So you care this much about Wyatt Long?”

“I don’t give a crap about Wyatt, I care about you!” he snapped, and Michael fell silent, his smirk fallen away.

Some people had looked over, and Alex ran a trembling hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his words were quiet, all the frustration and fury and fear evident in the way even his voice shook. “You were so pissed off that I wanted someone else that you went and picked a fight with the town nutjob!” He shook his head. “Is that what it’ll take to keep you safe now? Stay with you until you get tired of me?”

Michael flinched. “Don’t – don’t say that –”

“Why not?” he demanded. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? You only want me around when I keep my mouth shut, when nothing is serious. As soon as I try to get close to you, you go running off to someone else. That’s what you want to force me into?”

“You love me,” Michael said, finding his voice. “If I never know anything else, I’ll always know that. You love me, Alex, and I love you, and we’re supposed to be together.”

“I already told you,” Alex said through grit teeth. “I don’t believe a word you say.”

He pushed himself up and out of the booth. Michael’s hands curled to fists, and Alex got as far as the counter before Michael was out of his seat.

He turned Alex around by the arm and pinned him against the counter, startling both Alex and a waitress.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You’ve always been mine.” He raised a hand, gently tracing Alex’s jaw with his fingers, following raptly with his eyes. Alex’s weight, Michael made sure, wasn’t on his bad leg.

“Ever since we were seventeen,” he murmured. “In the decade that came after that. And in the next decade, and the next one, you’re mine, Alex. So you want to date Forrest Long? Go right ahead. Because I’m coming back for you, Private, and I’m going to spend every waking second making up for my stupid mistake. I can’t be you. I can’t be the knight in shining armor you were. I can’t pretend I’m not so in love with you that it feels like it’ll kill me, and I’m sorry I can’t do it, baby. I wish I was as strong as you, but I’m not.”

Alex searched Michael’s face with wide, glassy eyes. “I –”

Michael leaned in, doing what he’d needed to do since the gala, and pressed his nose to Alex’s soft hair, breathing him in. When he spoke, his lips brushed the shell of Alex’s ear, eliciting a soft gasp that had Michael tightening his grip on Alex’s waist until there was no space between their bodies at all.

“I love you, baby,” he breathed. “I’ll get you back, I promise.”

He leaned back, his heart feeling like it was racing a million miles a second as he cupped Alex’s jaw and brushed his cheek with his thumb. He pressed their foreheads together, and took one last deep breath that he knew would have to last him until the next time they saw each other.

“Go home,” Michael murmured into the space between their lips. “Take the prosthetic off and get some rest.”

He brushed away Alex’s tear and forced himself to let go. Without waiting for Alex’s reaction, Michael turned and left the Crashdown, well aware that there were a few eyes on him, but he couldn’t stop moving. He had to prove what Alex meant to him, what he’d always meant to him. He had work to do.

***

If you enjoyed reading even a little bit, please comment and share/reblog, it always makes the world of a difference 💕

[spaceskam]

day 3 of @alexmanesappreciation: legacy but I took a lot of liberties (also a follow up to the fic i wrote for day 2)

warning: memory loss, teenager-esque jealousy, mentions of Caulfield & 2x12

ao3

Alex knew he must've misunderstood something whenever Maria got there.

Michael caught her by the hand before she could run up to Alex and he pulled her to the side to have a word. But Alex wasn't stupid. He saw the way he touched her and the way she touched him and how close they stood while speaking to one another. It made him more uncomfortable than the fact he was standing half naked and letting Kyle and Liz prod at his body like he was a science experiment. Maybe he was.

Alex watched them until they finished their conversation. Michael squeezed her hand before letting go and she nodded simply. Maria turned to him with a big, cautious smile and came closer. With permission from Liz to touch him, she wrapped him up in her arms. He wanted to be happy to see her, but he couldn't take his eyes off Michael. What were they keeping from him?

"I'm so glad you're okay, I was worried sick," Maria said sincerely, squeezing him. Alex hugged her back easily and tried to stop looking at Michael. Just because he'd lost 10 years of his memory and it was super important to find out who and why didn't mean they could leave out massive plot points like Maria and Michael touching each other like that. But if they left it out and Michael kissed him, maybe he was looking into it too much. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore," Alex answered. His whole face was throbbing and it hurt to use his crutches because of the bruising on his ribs.

But Kyle got Isobel Evans of all people to stop by his house and get something they called an iwalk. It fit around his not-leg and was sort of a substitute for a prosthetic so he could stand up without irritating his leg more. He hated it.

"I bet," Maria said, "But you still look hot despite all the bruises, so take it as a win."

"Yeah, I will," he said, eyes going back to Michael who was standing over her shoulder, "Can I put my clothes back on now?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, sorry," Liz said, rambling as she had been, "I just need to take a blood sample, but you can have your clothes on for that."

Michael came over to him then as if it was his job to help him get dressed. He grabbed the pair of sweats and the t-shirt he’d brought for him so he didn’t have to put back on the ones he’d been wearing the whole time he’d been allegedly kidnapped. Alex carefully sat down on the stool and started unlatching his thigh from the iwalk thing. Michael’s hands instinctively went to help.

“Stop it,” Alex said, catching his chin in his hand and pulling him into a kiss. Michael smiled into it and so Alex dragged it on as long as he was allowed, deepening it without concern for who might see since everyone could see. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t peek to see if Maria saw. And she clearly had because she looked away.

“Whoa, okay,” Michael laughed, pulling away. His cheeks were red and Alex was obsessed. It made all the bad things happening a little bit better. “Let’s get you dressed, huh?”

They took the straps off his thigh and Alex used Michael as leverage to pull the sweats over his hips. He pulled the shirt on carefully and slowly due to his face and ribs while Michael tied off the hanging end of the sweats. The whole process took, like, five whole minutes. So long that Alex had to pull him back in for a kiss when they were done.

“Alright, we get it,” Liz laughed, nudging Michael out of the way. Alex reluctantly let him out of his grasp. “After I take a blood sample, do you want painkillers?”

Alex felt himself relax a little at the offer. “You have some?”

“Yeah, do you need them?”

“I would prefer them,” he admitted. It was easy to push aside his discomfort when Michael was kissing and touching him. But he couldn’t have that forever and he was still hurting. Hell, he couldn’t even see out of one of his eyes.

“Okay, let me take a sample so I can start getting to work and figuring out how to fix this,” Liz said, wiping down a spot on his arm with an alcohol pad. He’d had so many of those on him in the last hour that he was surprised he wasn’t getting drunk through his skin.

“Didn’t you say someone else had this stuff in them too? Didn’t you try to find a cure for it then?” Alex asked. Liz looked up at him, face a little grim.

“Well, with Cam, we didn’t really know who or what to expect to find in her memories. She had a much weaker dose and it only erased what she saw when she was taken. She wasn’t exactly super excited to remember those weeks,” Liz explained, trying to force a kind smile, “You know, it’s a little weird seeing 29-year-old Alex’s face, but with 19-year-old Alex’s voice and eyes.”

“What are you talking about?” Alex asked just as she pushed a needle into his arm. He didn’t even wince.

“You look older, but... you carry yourself a bit lighter when you were young,” Liz explained, “Before everything.”

It was a small suggestion, but it had Alex’s mind reeling. Before everything? Was she insinuating things got worse? Or maybe she didn’t know about the shed. Maybe she had no idea what she was talking about.

Alex looked to Michael for some type of elaboration, but his eyes involuntarily went for his hand. It was all wrapped beneath a bandana, but it hid... nothing. He jumped at the sight of that, frantically looking up to Michael’s face.

“Whoa, stay still,” Liz said, “Still drawing blood.”

“What happened to your hand? I-It looks fine. I don’t understand,” Alex said, panic building in him again. Maybe this wasn’t just a weird time-jump, maybe he was in a different universe all together. “Wait, did... did my dad still...”

He didn’t know how to ask the question. And, apparently, no one knew how to answer.

The air got heavy and everyone around them stilled while Liz slowly pulled the needle out of his arm and replaced it with a band-aid. Alex’s eyes were stuck on Michael who shifted uncomfortably at the topic.

“Yeah, that still happened,” Michael said softly, clearing his throat as he looked to Liz, “I was thinking that maybe they took him to erase all of the shit he knew to make him less of a threat.”

Everyone noticed the drastic subject change, but didn’t address it. Alex, however, wasn’t as easily subdued. He wanted to know. He opened his mouth again, but he was cut off by Kyle handing him a couple pills and a water bottle. After he took that, he was again cut off by Michael stepping in close. Alex took his hand since clearly he wasn’t going to get much in the way of an explanation.

He ran his fingertips over the unscarred skin while his adult friends talked around him.

“But what’s the point of that? I mean, he obviously already had an attachment to you,” Isobel chimed in. Alex made that even more obvious by resting his head against Michael’s chest. His heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear their conversation. How was his hand so smooth again? How had he gone so long without noticing?

“Maybe they were trying to go further and failed,” Michael suggested, “Or maybe they just wanted to erase the alien thing to try and warp his position.”

Before Alex could even ask what the hell he was talking about, his mind blurred.

“Do you want to know who I am, or do you wanna know what I am?”

“Yes.”

Alex gasped and clutched Michael’s hand, looking up at him with wide eyes. Michael looked at him in concern and they just stared for a few minutes. Alex could feel that familiar buzz under his skin, contentment of being with him mixing with that tumultuous fire of arguing with him. Because apparently they did that a lot... they argued.

“What? What happened?” Michael asked, his hand laying on Alex’s neck and using his thumb to hold his chin up. Alex looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“My dad was the reason I know,” Alex murmured, “He told me. I’m not gonna sway on my stance no matter when I find out.”

Michael stared at him for a moment, eyes flickering over his face as he tried to process what he said. Then he pressed a kiss to his forehead and Alex let himself relax back into Michael. He hated this, hated not remembering everything. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Something about him made it easy to make him not remember. Trauma really was a bitch.

“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the goal,” Michael said, “Maybe they were just trying to take out our biggest threat.”

“But then why would they give him back? And why would they drop him off at your place?” Kyle asked.

“Well, he was asleep when I got there. Maybe he still had his memories and he escaped and my place was the closest, but the drug activated whenever he passed out,” Michael suggested, his hand rubbing up and down Alex’s back.

“Do you really think he’d be able to escape on his own after getting beat up that bad?” Maria asked. Michael huffed a small laugh.

“Yeah. Especially if he still had his memories.”

They kept talking, kept brainstorming, and Alex kept feeling more and more exhausted. The painkillers dulled his nerves enough for him to focus on the fact that he needed sleep and trying to remember more than one offhanded conversation and the vague context of it was making him suffer even more. He turned the good side of his face into Michael’s chest and closed his eyes. He felt safe there.

“So, what, we think he got taken and his memory erased to fuck up his role in dismantling a legacy? Wouldn’t they have taken me too?” Kyle asked.

“No offense, but you haven’t exactly been hands on lately,” Liz said as kindly as possible. Kyle scoffed. “But from what I can tell, it’s definitely Butyricol. Same grimy little cells lurking in his blood.”

“Gross.”

“Absolutely. But I’m thinking if I can extract it I can work with it enough to see if I can make something that, you know, brings back memories, sort of like a human-equivalent to the alien antidote I made. Otherwise we’re stuck with him getting maybe one or two every once in awhile,” Liz said.

“How long do you think that’ll take?” Michael asked, one hand still rubbing his back and the other cupping the back of his head. Alex was more at peace than he’d been in awhile despite the fact they were all talking about him. 

“Long enough for you to let him take a nap, but not so long you should leave and risk running into more trouble,” Liz told him. Michael nodded.

“Okay, then we’re just gonna go lay in Kyle’s car.”

“No fucking in my car.”

“Obviously.”

Alex reluctantly sat up and grabbed his crutches. He hated this whole missing leg thing. He wanted his memories back if only so he could be used to it again. If that version of him was used to it. Would he ever be?

He gave an extra look to his friends. Liz and Kyle were already getting to work. Maria gave him a kind smile. Isobel was... there. And Michael was watching him, ready to catch him if he needed it. 

It was a slow and irritating process making it over the messy halls and desert terrain to get to the car, but they eventually found themselves cuddled up in the backseat of the car. Alex basically laid on top of Michael, trying to get some sleep. But he couldn’t, not quite. Not until he asked the question bothering him the most.

“We’re not together, are we?” he whispered. Michael was quiet for a little while, his thumb never stopping the smooth circles he rubbed into his shoulder.

“No,” he answered, “We’re not.”

“You’re with Maria,” Alex filled in, “I saw the way you guys touched each other.”

Michael took a deep, slow breath and it made Alex rise with him. He just waited for an explanation of how Maria, if she really was his girlfriend, was letting him be so hands on with Alex. Of course, Alex wasn’t mad about it. He missed Michael. Both with and without his memories.

“We’re... over. We were sort of in the middle of a breakup before you showed back up because I spent the last week ignoring her and tearing the world apart trying to find you,” Michael said, “She wasn’t mad that I was looking for you or anything, I guess it just finally clicked that... It doesn’t matter, we agreed we’d talk later, but right now it’s all about making sure you’re safe and comfortable.”

Alex lifted his head a little to look at his eyes. He was gorgeous. Sadder and rougher than Alex remembered, but gorgeous. 

“But you still like me?” Alex wondered. Michael huffed a small laugh, his hand carefully combing through his hair.

“Alex,” he said, his eyes flicking around his face. Alex noticed the moment he decided on what he wanted to say and he said it with confidence. “I love you.”

Alex’s mouth felt dry and his not-swollen eye widened. Love. That was new.

Again, before Alex could find his words, his mind blurred again.

“They’re my family, Alex!”

“Alright, maybe! But you are mine!”

Alex came back with another gasp, trying to ground himself again as Michael stared at him. The two second memory flooded him with residual gratitude that he was here. He was alive. He was his.

“I don’t look away, Guerin,” Alex told him. Slowly, a smile showed on his face and it might’ve been the most beautiful think Alex had ever seen.

“Was that just one memory, or...” Michael said, a hopeful little tinge to his voice. Alex hated to let him down, but he nodded.

“Just one,” he whispered. Michael’s smile didn’t fade any as he nodded.

“Then I want you to know I loved you then and I love you now. When you remember all the bullshit I’ve done to you, remember that I loved you through it all. I never stopped, okay? If they erased your memory to fuck with your place in your family’s legacy, than I’m gonna go ahead and use it to fuck with ours too. We were meant to be together and to be happy. I know that for a fact and I know people died to make it so. So, I’m saying it now. I have always and will always love you, Alex Manes,” Michael told him. 

Something akin to giddy laughter bubbled out of Alex at the words he was hearing, his whole system flushed with love and appreciation. He knew once he got his memories back, he’d probably feel different. From the way Michael was speaking, he knew he would feel different.

But right now he felt like he was on top of the world.

“I love you too,” Alex said, moving up to kiss him, “And I’m really upset we agreed not to fuck in Kyle’s car.” Michael laughed.

“You’re hurt.”

“Yeah, but I’m 19 and sleeping with a guy in Kyle Valenti’s car sounds like the best kind of revenge.”

Michael laughed again, pressing another kiss to his lips as he said, “Yeah, well, your body isn’t 19 and 29-year-old you might have a problem with me letting you get bent like that when you probably haven’t done your PT in over a week.”

Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Bent? That sounds like a challenge.”

“Go to sleep,” Michael told him, still grinning as he led Alex’s head to the crook of his neck, “I know you feel good right now, but this is just the beginning to a whole slew of bullshit that’ll come whenever we figure out who took you and what happened over the last week.”

Alex rolled his eyes, but agreed. It was hard to sleep with the adrenaline pumping through his system at Michael’s I love you, but eventually his fatigue caught up with him.

Later, he woke up to Liz excitedly telling him that she was sure she found a way to reverse it. They injected him with it and they waited. 

It didn’t happen immediately. In fact, they had to deal with a lot of stuff before he really got those memories back. They had to deal with his father, namely, and Crashcon. It was difficult trying to act like he knew what all these people had become and trying to assimilate just a little bit at a time. Even with Michael it was hard. There were pieces missing that made things different.

It all came to a head, though, when Alex found himself staring at his brother standing between his father’s gun and Michael Guerin.

“I know what he means to Alex.”

And suddenly Alex did too.

(ps if you want a fic where they actually bang in kyle’s car, check out @prouvaireafterdark‘s fic here because what am i if not slowly becoming a lynne fanpage)

[piccolina-mina]

Hi, im the anon wondering about which character is the favorite. Tbh i was just curious, but i understand how that could create drama 😅 my bad. Youre probably thinking im from the rnm fandom and you would be right. I had a hunch of which character it was, but i wasnt positive. I dont really see them playing favorites in terms of writing but that might just be because the favorite character is also my favorite character. I was curious as to your opinion but I understand if you dont wanna answer

I think narratively the show favors Michael. The writers openly discuss how much they love writing for him. He's everyone's favorite. He's Carina's favorite. He's a fan favorite. And that is fine.

But I do think there are some days when it's so blatant that it's a clear flaw on the part of those creating the narrative. There are many layers to this too, some more disconcerting then others, but I'll stick to the narrative.

The fact that I (and others I'm sure) don't actually have to mention his name and people automatically know sort of proves the point.

And it's not a slight against his character or the actor, and it's not to suggest that his storylines aren't enjoyable either. Case in point, personally, I think he and Alex are having the strongest personal arcs out of everyone this season.

But then, that isn't exactly surprising is it?

More often than not, I feel like it's Liz's story in name only, but consistent, deep, gritty, well thought out etc storytelling falls on Michael. I can see and feel all the time and energy dedicated to this specific character.

That's cool, but when you have an ensemble cast, the hope is that it's spread out a bit better. The first season is testing the waters. The second season gives you a better idea of how things are and will be now that there is a rhythm.

In the second season, Liz, our lead, has gotten lost and swallowed up in the plot. Jeanine is great and has some shining moments, but she doesn't exactly have her own personal story that isn't wrapped up in alien stuff. This is where it's frustrating that ... we don't spend a lot of time with the Ortechos, something they've attempted to rectify a bit this season, but it's still mostly unsuccessful.

This is where her arc with Rosa has not been as strong as it should be and got lost in Liz trying to bring Max back. This is where I repeatedly point out the lack of focus on her relationships outside of the pod squad. Her friendships with Maria and Alex suffer a great deal and honestly with Kyle as well.

This is where all things alien consume her, and she doesn't seemingly have a life or rather chooses to expend any focus to a life outside of the pod squad and their issues.

And this is where because of all her energy being put into such a narrow focus on solely alien issues often at the expense of every other facet of her life, she often feels decentralized from her own narrative.

But we have Michael, and I do think one of many reasons he's such a favorite is because of all the focus he gets and how well-rounded and developed he is compared to the others. I mean if that's the character everyone pours everything into ... then yeah, he would be the favorite, yeah?

He's fun to play with, the witty oneliners, the bad boy with a heart of gold, the misunderstood tragic not a hero but really a hero, the lovable jackass, the endearing "screwup" so on and so forth. He's wrapped up in a bow, the catnip of all the most endearing tropes.

And they love peeling back layers for him and developing him and expanding on his background and characterization carefully and thoughtfully.

And that's awesome and enjoyable even, but when you have an ensemble cast and it doesn't begin to be spread about evenly, then it's a reasonable nitpick.

I feel like we have a better grasp on his past than any other character. He naturally was the one who wanted to go back home, but almost all of the past alien history and folklore has essentially centered him or involved him more so than Isobel and Max.

He's the one who heads to and finds out about Caulfield. He's the one who sees his mother and where the aliens were held. He's the one who watches her die in front of him. He's the one who continued to be tied into that plot while they hand waved why Max and Isobel weren't interested in learning more when they dropped enough breadcrumbs to support why they should be.

Until this season, until very recently with Isobel, everything related to their origins fell on him, he is the face of the pod squad being invested in finding out about their history. It then ties in with his tragic backstory as the foster kid who never had nor felt "home."

By spending a season and a half essentially centering him alone in a narrative that should involve all of them, it seemingly made it his plot. And that's BEFORE we even get to these recent revelations with Sanders and this implication that Michael was "the special one" not Max (which the mere idea of a special one at all was not and has not been something I particularly care to subscribe to in the first place), so it's doubling down and solidifying something they didn't need to emphasize this much.

The alien past has always felt like Michael's story and Max and Isobel are just hitching a ride. The many ways it was only tied to Michael makes it that way. It was Michael that Jesse had a file on.

It's Michael whose first love is a product of the Manes Project Shepherd element. It's Michael who gets that conflict with Alex.

The Valentis have just as much ties to that as the Manes and yet that angle is barely explored or used to add an extra layer to the tension between Max and Kyle for example.

It was just barely used to flesh out Kyle during the first season, and then seemingly dropped altogether this season when he should have just as much claim in this narrative as all three pod squad members and Alex.

Ironically, this is a big disservice to Isobel. And this is where this exclusive focus on pouring so much into one character comes at the expense of others.

Isobel, people like her and all, but when I look at the actual narrative and her place in it, if not for the fact that she's an alien, she's not a character with much purpose, and that's a huge problem.

Because narratively, outside of being used as a victim, they honest to goodness don't know what to do with her. They barely invested enough in her character to give her a fully formed, consistent personality. There's no real pull there. And as the only female alien, they could have done so much more beyond being a vessel for Noah and an abortion storyline where the only point was to make a statement about women and reproductive rights that didn't land as intended because of Isobel's privileges and access.

Max benefits from being the co-lead and being part of the primary love story. And then of course there is the eternal and patently unfair and imbalanced fraternal angst that ALSO is more often than not used to serve Michael's storyline and development.

It's about Michael working through his resentment. It's about Michael's abandonment issues. It's about Michael's battle with self worth. And 2.05 was about Michael realizing how much his brother always loved him. And him growing from that realization. And him saving his brother.

Just like now, it's about Michael protecting Max and "suffering" for it. It's about Michael being a dark horse martyr and sin eater for his siblings after taking the blame for killing the girls from Isobel and now damning himself to a screwed up life on Max's behalf.

The weight of the revelations geared toward Michael. The Sanders connection was significant and that was ushered in through his connection to Michael.

In the same vein we found out Michelle Valenti has what should be an equally as impactful and longstanding connection with Max ... but did it carry the same weight as Michael and Sanders at all even though those respective relationships have run neck in neck throughout the series? No.

We know Maria was sidelined all first season. This season most of what they've given us feels performative to address the concerns people had because of how things are handled ... with her splitting redundant narratives with side characters, having things happen offscreen, or shuffled to a side, or left on the editing floor.

And her biggest relationship all season is? Michael.

Kyle is getting sidelined this season. There's so much we don't know and could about him. His love interest storyline also feels performative and perfunctory... they didn't invest in it at all. It was like going through the motions.

Rosa's storyline hasn't exactly taken off as you'd have expected given the circumstances. And they just jumped around with key and crucial character building and meaningful moments with that too. They sailed right on past the Maria and Arturo reveals without letting them breathe. Almost like they just didn't have any strong interest in doing much outside of hitting the necessary notes: tell Maria, reunion with Arturo, save Max, overdose.

Liz's core relationships are all over the place. Maria, Arturo, Rosa, Alex, Kyle ... not enough investment in them. Not enough digging deep into them. Not enough exploration. While Max was gone most of the season. And she worked with and provided support to Michael and Isobel, hung out with Cam, but continuously neglects the aforementioned others who should matter.

But Michael's core relationships have layers and stay intact ( Max, Isobel, Alex, and Maria) and he gets substance with other ones ... Kyle ... Sanders ...

So yeah, nothing wrong with having favorites. And if that person is your favorite then maybe it's easier not to care or think too hard about it or whatever.

But the reason I dislike when you can tell when one character is a favorite is because of how it affects the narrative overall.

It seriously impacts the storytelling. It's like writing entire chunks around a character and this specific position you want them instead of writing the story and weaving in the character.

It can take me out of a piece when I can tell the objective is to get to a precise moment with a specific character. When I can tell that some of the writing is obligatory and then "the real fun" happens with X.

It's like stuffing your face with all of your vegetables because you have to in order to get to that ice cream Sundae. Like "if I get through A-W then my reward will be Z."

This is me coming from an objective viewpoint because I can separate when analyzing. I have actually enjoyed Michael a lot this season. He and Alex have had the best character growth this season, in my opinion, and I really love that.

But this is also a glaring issue, and I hate when favoritism bleeds into a series, especially an ensemble cast when it leads to issues with the storytelling.

And despite my enjoyment, that's what I feel is happening here a lot.

It certainly isn't the first and only show I've noticed this with. And yeah, I've even made these same observations and criticisms when it's my favorite character too.

It's the same on another series I watch with one of my favorite characters, and it's so frustrating except in that case, it's a character who can do no wrong even when they're wrong, and ... that's a whole other discussion.

But yeah. I don't expect agreement with this. It's probably one of those unpopular opinions or hot takes that can definitely bug people, especially those whose favorite character is Michael.

But this is my observation and why I feel that like him or not, storytelling suffers, is predictable, or underwhelming, or annoying, or jarring when you can sense the obsession and favoritism.