Through the Violet Glass (M/A, EXPLICIT, 5Mar19) Ch 12

I feel like a bit of a tease now, lol, but this isn't a 'quick fix' fic and the payoff will come, promise!
~Tas




Michael stared out the window, quiet, as Jenna drove. The junkyard was within the city limits but only just. Soft music with a definite twang wafted from the radio and he smiled a little, recognising Max's favourite station.

Jenna eventually broke the silence. "So, Alex and his father, they don't get along, huh? That was my take on it?"

"That is correct," Michael managed in a clipped monotone. But he wasn't any kind of military, and Jesse Manes certainly didn't deserve any respect from him. "Mainly because he's Chief Master Asshole." Damn, it felt good to say.

"Mm," Jenna made a non-committal sound. "Longtime military family?"

"Yeah. All four sons, his own dad, and who knows how many more generations back."

"Thought so," she nodded, pausing her commentary while she navigated a sharp curve in the road. "Men like that don't tend to handle it well when they have a gay son."

Michael just sat there, his mind gone absolutely blank at the matter-of-fact pronouncement. Finally he shook his head and laughed. "Nothing wrong with your radar." It wasn't like Alex was obvious about it these days, not like back in high school with the defiant eyeliner and nail polish.

She chuckled. "My radar is pretty damn good." Jenna glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Except when it comes to you."

"Ha." Most days, Michael would have run through a whole raft of innuendo in response to that look. Today, though, he was tired and feeling bruised inside and out, and what he offered Jenna was blunt honesty instead. "Probably because I trip all of them at the same time."

"Yeah, that'd do it." There wasn't any censure in her voice, only gentle amusement. Which seemed to be how Jenna approached the world in general, so Michael figured if she was still laughing, then it didn't bother her.

He sighed and leaned his head against the seat back, closing his eyes to shut out the sight of the town centre as they neared the station. Michael stayed like that, silent, letting his mind drift aimlessly with the music, trying not to think about anything at all for the next few minutes.

When Jenna put the car into park and turned off the ignition, Michael roused with another sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Thanks, man."

"No problem. C'mon, you'll need to sign for the gun."

Michael followed her into the building and obediently signed the evidence log, tucking the piece into the back of his jeans and the car keys into his pocket.

"You alright?" Jenna inquired as they moved down the hallway.

"Yeah, yeah. Just tired. You know where I was sitting when you showed up? Yeah, I fucking slept there." He rolled his eyes and chuckled, deflecting her easily.

Jenna laughed. "In that case, want another coffee for the road? I know where Evans keeps his travel mug and it's not like he's gonna need it right away."

The uncomplicated pettiness of taking Max's mug appealed to Michael as much as it clearly did to Jenna and he echoed her laugh. "Why the hell not?"

"Plain black, right? Wait here."

He did, and she was back in a couple of minutes with a fancy green thermos mug and a paper bag, holding both out to Michael while she chewed and swallowed something.

"Take the donuts too so I don't eat the entire damn bag."

He accepted both with a grin. Michael had learned early in life that women would want to feed him and it made them happy - and his life easier - if he just took the food. "Yes, ma'am."

She snorted a laugh and pointed at the door. "Your truck's at the end of the same row where I parked. Go. Eat. Sleep. In that order."

Michael sketched a salute with the hand holding the donuts and ambled outside, locating the vehicle immediately.

He was still thinking about that gesture when he pulled the truck out into the town's traffic. Seeing Alex and Jenna bond over being military had obviously scrambled his brain. Michael had only used that faux salute with Alex before, because it was a sarcastic sneer of a hand movement that struck directly at a core part of who Alex was. But finding himself replicating it with Jenna made Michael realise that it was an ambiguous gesture coming from him, because he aimed it solely at someone he did actually respect.

It was a weirdly uncomfortable realisation.

And one he didn't want to spend time on right now. It was enough to notice it and file it away for later.

Like, after he found out what the fuck Alex needed to talk to him about privately.




Alex waited a few minutes after he'd been left alone, until he was sure that the various noises hadn't woken Isobel, and then he retrieved his backpack and a bottle of water from his car, settling back into the chair.

He didn't have any idea how long he'd be here but he might as well get some more notes down while he waited. Out came notebook, pen, and iPod.

Fitting the earbuds into place, Alex chose a mellow playlist that wouldn't distract him and got to it, scribbling bullet points on a fresh page. He paused now and again to close his eyes and bring up mental images of the fragment, refreshing his thoughts before continuing to make notes.

The memory had to do, because Alex definitely wasn't getting out the actual glass in an unsecured location.

He closed the notebook and clipped the pen to it when he heard the metallic squeak of the Airstream door, turning in the chair towards the sound.

"Where's Michael?" Isobel asked, before Alex had a chance to turn off the music. He did so now, looking over at her, concealing his surprise at her dishevelled appearance. He'd never seen Isobel look anything but fully polished, even as a kid.

"He had to run into town to collect his truck. He was going to come right back so it shouldn't be long now," Alex explained, keeping his tone even and soothing.

She tilted her head, staring at him. "And he left you here?"

"Um, yeah." Alex tucked his stuff into the backpack and picked up his crutch, getting to his feet so he could talk to her properly. "I came by to talk to him about something and he asked if I could wait." He shrugged, indicating his civvies. "I wasn't in a rush."

"Okay." Isobel seemed to accept that explanation but there was a speculative note in her voice that made him groan internally. Great, an inquisitive sister, just what Alex needed. Or best friend. Best friend's sister? Whatever. All of those roles were dangerous.

"Well, I'm going to make some coffee. Would you like one?" Isobel straightened, some of her veneer reappearing. It fascinated Alex. He nodded, moving towards her as he spoke.

"That would be nice, thank you. Before you do, though, Michael asked me to pass on a message." The name tasted strange, unfamiliar in Alex's mouth. He never said it anymore. The other Michaels he knew went by Mike, or Mick. Only Michael Guerin went by his full name.

"A message?" That bit of veneer cracked immediately and her voice squeaked at the end of the question. Alex kind of wanted to give her a hug. He couldn't say he'd ever considered Isobel Evans to be huggable; she'd been worlds apart from Alex and his friends in high school. Michael had been their only point of overlap.

And remained that point, it seemed. "It's all right, it isn't bad news," Alex offered first, adding a gentle smile when he saw the lines of her body relax. "He just wanted you to know to not try to call Max, because Max was in an altercation last night and he got hurt. He's fine but he's supposed to sleep it off."

"Oh my God." Her hand flew to cover her mouth and Alex saw a flash of blind panic cross her face. Then Isobel took a deep breath, letting her hand drop, and a few more deep breaths. "Okay. Okay, Michael would not have left you here to tell me if there was actually something really wrong with Max. He would have woken me. So, I'm going to go make us some coffee, and then I'll be out to sit with you. And I will not use my phone."

Alex simply nodded, agreeing with her, and Isobel gave him a sharp nod in return then pivoted and went back into the Airstream.

He took a deep breath of his own and sat down again. It felt like there were layers of meaning to everything this morning that he just wasn't seeing. Flickers out of the corner of his eye. And just as impossible to pin down.

The rumble of an engine alerted Alex to Michael's imminent arrival before the truck came into view, dusty green and purring.

Here we go. Alex steeled himself, reaching for the calm that he'd been able to give Isobel. He knew he was going to need it.

Michael parked and exited the truck. He took stock of the scene as he walked over: Alex had obviously grabbed stuff from his car and seemed to have made himself comfortable, and Isobel was nowhere to be seen. He frowned; she should have been awake by now.

"She's making coffee," Alex told him as soon as Michael drew close enough that he didn't need to shout. "And possibly getting dressed. Although I'm sure there's an audience somewhere for the fetching combination of knee-high sports socks and a lacy nightie."

The dry comment startled a laugh from Michael. "Oh, yeah, somewhere. Here, want a donut? Apparently some clichés are true and the cop shop had a tonne." He passed the paper bag to Alex.

"I could eat," Alex withdrew one of the sweet treats and folded the top of the bag down, setting it on the nearby table. He jerked a thumb towards the trailer. "I told her about Max. She had a wobbly moment but then came to the conclusion that you wouldn't have left if you'd thought it was something serious."

"She's right."

"I know." And Alex did know. But it wasn't until right this second that he realised Michael had trusted him with Isobel - with his family. It was unexpected, to say the least.

"So." Michael dropped into a chair. "What did you - hey, Iz," he interrupted himself as Isobel opened the door, balancing two mugs as she closed it behind her.

"Good morning, boys," her tone was bright and breezy and Michael smiled. She'd changed her clothes and brushed her hair, too, as Alex had guessed she would. Michael was glad to see it, even if he knew that it was partially an act, brought on by Alex's presence.

"Thanks," Alex smiled at Isobel when she handed him one mug. It was good to see her being more, well, Isobel like. He pointed at the table. "Donuts. Help yourself."

She clapped her hands and Alex had to laugh as Isobel tore into the bag and took a big bite, sighing in exaggerated bliss once she'd swallowed. "God, sugar rush. I needed that."

Michael joined in the laughter and gestured at Alex. "How come you weren't that excited?" It felt natural to tease him. Act or not, Isobel's mild silliness lightened his own mood. Maybe they could get through this shit after all.

"Well, this is a mid-morning snack for me, Guerin. I already ate my Wheaties," Alex informed him in a lofty tone. The return volley was automatic, courtesy of long years of piss-taking interactions with his fellow airmen, on top of the years growing up in a house full of guys. But it felt good to be able to do this with Michael. Familiar, and a lot more comfortable than the body blows they'd been verbally dealing each other lately.

Isobel looked heavenward and Michael smirked; he'd seen that reaction to him and Max bickering many a time. She smiled at him and then Alex, addressing them both. "You two obviously have stuff to do and I need to get going."

"Izzy, you sure?" Michael stood and moved close to her, concerned. They hadn't even talked yet.

"Yes, Michael, I'm sure. I'm going to Mom and Dad's. I need some time to myself to think about things, and we can't talk to Max yet anyway, so I'm going to go sit in Mom's big jacuzzi bath with the bubbles on and try to just be for a little while." Her eyes teared up and she sniffled, but she raised her chin and it broke his heart, how brave she was being.

"Okay, Iz. Okay." Michael patted her shoulder, pretty sure she wouldn't thank him for a hug right now. He knew she'd start crying if he tried and she didn't like doing that even without an outsider in the audience. "Text me when you get there. I'll let you know when I've talked to Max and we can make plans then."

"I will." Isobel nodded firmly and went back into the Airstream, emerging almost immediately with duffle bag in one hand and car keys in the other. That was from yesterday's vehicular rescue. Michael idly thought that it was just as well that Max's Jeep was out of commission, because he really didn't want to have to retrieve it from the Sheriff's Department after doing so for both Isobel's and his own.

Alex watched in silence as Michael walked her to the car. There was more to it than the summation Michael had given him before; he was certain of it. But their quiet words hadn't given him any clues, and it wasn't any of his business anyway.

So Alex sipped his coffee, waiting for Michael, cocooning himself in all the calmness he could muster. He'd managed it with Kyle last night, breaking through some of the other man's naivete. But everything he'd told Kyle, Michael already knew. Had known for a decade. Alex had a history with each of the two men, in very different ways.

He focused on his breathing, keeping it slow and steady while he watched Isobel drive away. Michael turned towards him once she was out of sight and Alex tamped down on the flutter in his stomach. Be nice. You need him.

Alex could wish that weren't the truth.







[end chapter three]

Chapter 5



Michael stood there regarding Alex for a long time. He kept examining Alex's face, checking for micro expressions, searching for any hints, no matter how faint, that Alex wasn't telling the truth.

He found nothing. He didn't know what to do with nothing. He didn't know how to move forward with Alex being fine with him being what he was.

Hope for the best and prepare for the worst, the adage said. But Michael hadn't dared hope. He felt like his capacity for hopefulness had died alongside Rosa Ortecho, when he and Max had decided to cover everything up and in Isobel's eyes, Michael had become a murderer. He'd half believed it of himself as the years slipped away.

He'd certainly lived down to it.

"'It's all good'? What the fuck does that even mean?" Michael burst out.

Alex raised an eyebrow. He couldn't say he was surprised by the anger. This was big. Michael had been carrying it around for his entire life. Longer than Alex had been carrying around being gay, and with the potential for a lot more serious repercussions. At this point in history, Alex wasn't likely to get locked away and dissected. But Michael was. As bad as the Chief's behaviour had been towards his own son, Alex knew it didn't hold a candle to the treatment a real live alien would receive.

That sent the first tendril of true fear snaking down Alex's spine. He held tighter to his aura of calm. "It means what it says, Guerin. You're an alien. I'm missing a leg. Nobody's perfect."

The reasonableness of both the words and the tone infuriated Michael. How could Alex be so goddamned adult about everything when Michael was just this side of panic? "How very fucking modern of you, Manes. We should pose for a diversity poster. Look, everyone, it's the gay amputee and the really, really illegal alien."

"Guerin."

The single word was a warning but Michael ignored it. Too much emotion thrummed through him, and he never did have much control when he was angry. "Right, right, I totally forgot the book cover option. How about a Harlequin paperback? The Airman and the Alien Criminal. I bet that would sell like hotcakes," he spat, unable to stop himself.

There were exactly two people on the planet who could rile Alex to the boiling point in no time flat: his father, and Michael Guerin.

"What the hell is your problem, Guerin? Do you want me to hate you? Be afraid of you?" Alex snapped. "Because I don't. And I'm not. So get over it already."

Michael vibrated with rage. The plates in the cupboard started rattling, knocking together in the tiny kitchen area.

Alex glanced behind him. He couldn't see the source of the noise but he'd washed enough dishes in his life to recognise it.

Well, no, the actual source seemed to be Michael. And wasn't that a kicker? Some kind of telekinesis, thank you Maria for the vocabulary. Alex had to get his own temper under control if he were going to help Michael with his.

He closed his eyes, reaching for the quiet place in his mind that served as his refuge. Alex let the peace of it flow through him, cooling the anger, the way he'd learned while also learning to walk again. No shortage of fury in a veterans' hospital.

What the fuck, was Alex meditating? Now? Michael could see him regaining his composure and the contrast to his own mood just made him madder. He clenched his fists at his sides, breathing heavily. Michael knew he needed to get himself under control - the pencils were rising from the table, the drafting tools too, and wouldn't that be the cherry on top if he managed to kill himself with a fucking pointy compass?

Floating objects greeted Alex's gaze when he was ready to act. One eyebrow went up and then he ignored it, getting to his feet and taking the few steps necessary to stand in front of Michael, within his personal space but not actually touching him. "Look at me, okay? Focus on me."

Michael's eyes met his. He could see that Alex was genuinely calm again and he wanted to know how that was possible when Michael felt like a tornado was tearing through him. He understood now what Max had been experiencing when he'd blown the town's power grid.

It was hard to be this close to Alex, though. Too hard to see compassion in his expression instead of fear. Michael blinked rapidly and turned his head away.

"Hey, no. Keep them here." Alex touched Michael's cheek, guiding him to come back to face Alex head-on. When he did, Alex dropped his hand to press flat on Michael's upper chest. "Breathe with me. Concentrate on me and match my breathing."

Michael drew a shuddery breath and mirrored Alex, raising his hand to place the palm on Alex's chest, feeling its gentle rise and fall. He tried to narrow his focus to the sound and rhythm of Alex breathing, and the soft shine of dark eyes.

Slowly, slowly, they synchronised, Alex leading them both to tranquillity. He'd spent plenty of time looking at Michael before but not quite like this, and he kept noticing the colour variations in Michael's irises, bits of green, brown, gold, stirred through the caramel. They were stunning, every bit as magic in their own way as the violet glow of the glass fragments. Finally, Michael nodded and looked away, lashes veiling the beauty.

"Thank you." Simple, direct. Michael noted the trailer had gone silent and nothing was visibly damaged; crisis averted. This time. He offered a crooked smile. "I might have to ask you for lessons."

Alex chuckled. "Yeah, doable. But it would probably be better at my place. We could go outside - fewer breakables around."

"I'm not going to the base. It's not safe." Michael's forehead creased in surprised concern at the suggestion.

"I don't live on base," Alex hastened to clarify. He hadn't told Michael that previously; he'd been waiting until he felt comfortable enough to invite him over. Then the drive-in had happened, and, well, here they were.

"Ah." Michael had assumed, and Alex obviously hadn't wanted to set him straight before. Fair enough. He hadn't been entitled to the information then, nor was he now. "So, when do you want to do this?"

Alex glanced at the table. He wanted to learn about the fragments but it looked like Michael had been studying his pieces for a long time, and more discovery could wait. Helping Michael develop his emotional control felt more critical. He shrugged. "No time like the present. Today and tomorrow are my weekend, so I'm available."

"Let me talk to Mr. Sanders." Michael hadn't anticipated the offer or its immediacy but he'd be a fool not to take Alex up on it.

"Yeah, sure," Alex waved him off, exhaling in a long sigh once Michael left the Airstream.

He knew he could help. He knew it was important, that Michael needed help, and he was willing and able to give that help.

What Alex didn't know was whether he could keep his resolve around Michael. Coming here, into a place where he'd briefly known such joy, had hurt about as much as Alex had expected.

And that had been the only part of it that had been as expected. The rest of the morning... Alex didn't know what to think yet. But he was pretty sure about the next step, and he'd learned the hard way that sometimes, the next step was the only one you could see.





[end chapter five]

Even if it hurts
Even if it makes me bleed
I'm gonna carry you
Pushing through
With the dirt on my sleeves

Even if it hurts
Even if it's razor deep
I'm not giving up
Not gonna run
I'll be there when you need me
Even if it hurts

~"Even If It Hurts", Sam Tinnesz




Michael now knew why they'd stopped at the sports store: tennis balls.

A loose circle of tennis balls surrounded Michael in the grass, somewhere on Alex's property, far enough back that he could see neither cabin nor road. Just endless fucking green. With neon yellow dots. And Alex, seated nearby on a lawn chair.

"Okay, I'm all set up. Now what?"

Alex waved at the circle. "Move something. Juggle, whatever. Just leave me an opening so I can come over there once you've got going." He'd had Michael carry everything and had watched him place the tennis balls, conserving his energy for the steps after these. Not to mention, psyching himself up.

"Here goes, then." The basic idea was pretty brilliant to Michael's way of thinking. Tennis balls were lightweight but had a sturdy shape, easy for him to manipulate, and they were unlikely to kill anyone if they were flung hard or exploded.

Michael concentrated, levitating three balls in front of him and three behind, leaving both sides open as requested. The juggling action began slowly, first one set whirling in the classic shape, and then the other set in counterpoint. He wasn't a flashy guy but he did have an urge to do the magician arms, just for shits and giggles. He didn't, though. Michael was doing his best to be serious here.

"Show-off." Alex couldn't deny that it was impressive. Or the little glow from knowing that Michael was showing off for him. Sad, Manes. You are sad.

"Hey, man, you said to juggle. I'm just doing what I'm told."

"There's a first time for everything."

Michael laughed. It faded into a nervous smile as Alex made his way over to stand in front of Michael. He knew what was coming next, sort of, and he didn't have the vaguest idea how it would affect him.

"How're you feeling? Your control looks solid enough." The figure eights were well-defined and even to Alex's eyes.

"Um, steady, I guess?" Describing his feelings wasn't exactly Michael's forté but he wasn't going to learn to control his powers when he was angry if he didn't know when he was angry.

"Good." Alex paused to silently question his own sanity. Then he drove his fist into Michael's stomach.

Michael doubled over with an expulsion of breath. He gulped in air and yelled, "What the fuck, Alex?!"

"Shortcut for guys like us, Guerin," Alex kept his voice flat, not letting his relief show. Okay. He wasn't dead, so maybe it wasn't a completely insane plan after all. He looked down at Michael. "You dropped a ball."

"Fuck you," Michael muttered, straightening up. He could feel his control skittering and he glared at Alex. He was back to having the other man's calm manner really piss him off. Michael coughed and focused on adding the dropped ball back into circulation, smoothing the movement of both sets. "Fuck you twice for being right."

Alex couldn't hold back the laugh. "Well, you know, when you're good, you're good."

"You're not good. You're an asshole," Michael grumbled.

"Such a well developed vocabulary, Guerin. I thought you were supposed to be smart," Alex needled. Not the greatest comeback but the important thing was to keep the momentum going.

Michael grunted in response. He glanced to the side and picked up a third set of tennis balls, starting them in another rotation. When it was established, he looked straight at Alex, smirking.

Alex genuinely was impressed. But he kept that to himself, simply raising an eyebrow. If he'd had two hands free, he would have added a slow clap, but a dismissive expression would have to do. "Huh."

"Huh?" Michael took exception to the tone, letting it get under his skin where he would usually brush it off. The whole point here, for both of them, was to get Michael angry. It already wasn't fun and he knew it wasn't going to get any better.

"Yeah. Huh." Alex shrugged. "I guess I expected better of you."

Dangerous territory, because Michael knew it was true. That Alex would say it, use it against him this way, started a slow burn in his chest. The comment had had nothing to do with juggling tennis balls with his brain.

Alex noted the muscles jumping in Michael's jaw and knew that had hit home. He pushed. "What's the matter? Pussy got your tongue?"

"Excuse you?" Those words did not just come out of Alex Manes's mouth.

"Well, women and whiskey, that's what you do with your life nowadays, isn't it?" Alex phrased it as a question but his tone conveyed it as fact. And it was, sort of, but in the hours since he'd learned of Michael's origins, there'd been some shifts beginning in his thinking, as he started to get to grips with the enormity of what that meant for Michael.

Michael struck back immediately. "Gotta get my kicks somewhere, right? Since you're off getting it in the ass from half the base." He saw the flash of hurt surprise in Alex's eyes, there and gone in a blink, not realising he'd been displaying the same thing this whole time.

It wasn't true - was so far from the truth as to be laughable - but Alex could use it. He didn't think Michael had noticed how erratic the movement of the tennis balls had become, as he got more and more worked up. They were nearly to the target and Alex thought one more push might do it.

He tilted his head, giving Michael a sly smile. "And so what if I were?"

Pop! A ball exploded behind Alex, and then another. The remaining ones whizzed round at dizzying speed.

Michael's chest heaved with furious breath. He tried to bring the tennis balls back down to the grass but he couldn't focus and they kept on spinning.

Now Alex dropped his crutch, ignoring everything but Michael. He stepped close. "I'm here, Guerin. Look at me." He put a hand on Michael's chest, feeling the effort it was taking him, and continued to speak gently. "Breathe with me."

Michael had expected it to be harder to switch gears, move away from the anger, but the soft warmth in Alex's voice, the earnest care in his gaze, made it possible for Michael to begin to calm down. It took longer this time, or at least he thought it did, because he also kept the remaining balls in the air, exactly as intended. Gradually they returned to the clean figure eights, right along with Michael returning to deep, even breaths.

"You did it," Alex praised quietly. He couldn't help the wide grin. "Well done."

Michael sighed. "I hate you." It was totally void of conviction.

"No, you don't."

"No I don't," he agreed. "But goddamn did I want to belt you."

Alex laughed. "Well, that was the effect I was trying for, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Michael was keenly aware of the hand still pressed to his chest. He wanted to take it and kiss the back of it, like an old-fashioned courting gesture, and then kiss the daylights out of Alex. He wanted... Fuck. Everything. He wanted everything.

Reaction was starting to set in for Alex. He'd been calm, collected, carrying out his plan. Now, having accomplished the mission, he felt shaky. "Um," he didn't know quite what to say. He finally said, "I kind of need a hug. I know it's awkward, but... Would you mind?"

It wasn't what Michael had expected to hear but it was a welcome request. He closed the small distance between them and wrapped his arms around Alex, holding him tight.

"Thanks," Alex whispered, and shut his eyes, finding solace in Michael's embrace.





[end chapter seven]

The sound of the doorknob jiggling and the scrape of the key woke Michael. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he reached out with his mind and unlocked the door before the key got to it. Anticipating Alex's reaction, given how positive he'd been about it yesterday.

"I could have sworn that was locked. Huh. I guess he's up!"

Oh shit. Michael knew that voice. He'd heard it often enough. In fact, Isobel was the only woman he heard speaking more often than he heard Maria. He just hadn't expected to see anyone else here.

Michael sat up, swinging his legs to plant his feet on the floor as Maria entered the cabin. "Morning, DeLuca."

"Guerin?" The level of shock in her voice made him chuckle. "What are you doing here?"

"I was sleeping," he drawled.

"Obviously. Why were you sleeping on Alex's couch?"

He gestured at the empty beer bottles littering the coffee table, smirking at her. "Driving home didn't seem like a good idea."

"Who knew you were capable of being sensible?" Maria scoffed. She looked at his sock-clad feet. "Get your boots on, cowboy. You're going to make yourself useful."

"Doing...?" He asked the question but he did move, assuming that whatever she wanted him to do was outside. And being useful sounded good.

"The heavy lifting. My trunk is open, just bring it all into the kitchen."

That surprised Michael but he could play burro, no problem. Boots on, he went into the morning sunshine, squinting against the brightness. It was early yet, nighttime chill still present in the air. It would warm up soon enough under that clear sky.

Maria's SUV was parked in front, the rear open towards the cabin. No wonder she hadn't known he was here. His truck was round the back. But Michael hadn't been trying to bring anything beyond himself inside yesterday.

He surveyed the contents of the vehicle. All beverages. Two cases of beer and five of bottled water. Michael couldn't help the laughter bubbling out. Looked like having a bartender for a best friend was serving Alex well.

Michael was still grinning when he deposited the first two cases of water in the designated spot in the kitchen.

"Something amusing you, Guerin?"

"I didn't know bartenders made house calls."

"They don't. Bar owners might, for special occasions." Her eyes sparkled with mirth, belying the prim tone.

"Ah, I see. So Alex is a special occasion?"

"Of course!" She checked behind Michael, presumably to ensure Alex hadn't shown up, and added, "It's something he'll let me do. The nearest Costco is, like, Albuquerque, and the grocery stores in town don't carry stuff by the case much. But, well water, you know, so I keep him stocked up at cost."

"Yeah, no, it's a great idea. It's good." He wanted to thank her, but it really wasn't his place - Michael had no claims on Alex. He shuffled his feet and sighed. "I'll get the next load."

"Guerin," she called after him before he left the cabin. "You want coffee?"

"Yes, please," he called back as he exited. Michael eyed the three remaining cases of water. He could carry it all, but he probably shouldn't. A couple extra trips was the smarter option.

So he made them, back and forth between vehicle and kitchen, until Maria's trunk was empty and Michael closed the lid on it.

"Cream, sugar?" Maria enquired when Michael sat at the table.

He shook his head. "Nope, black, please."

She poured the fresh brew into a mug and passed it to him, taking a second for herself. Then she sat across from Michael and looked him up and down.

"What?" he demanded.

"You are so much nicer in the morning."

He laughed and winked at her. "I gave you plenty of opportunity to discover that before now, DeLuca."

Maria rolled her eyes. "You are also incorrigible."

"I know. It's part of my charm."

"Is that what you call it?" she snorted a laugh.

"Yep." Bantering with Maria DeLuca felt familiar and comfortable, despite their current location, and Michael relaxed, sipping at the coffee in between trading barbs.



Alex had heard the SUV drive up, the sound of the engine penetrating the fog in his brain. He'd slept like the dead. Everything ached, but the same way it always did when he woke up, nothing unusual. Thank God.

He'd forgotten Maria was coming over but he wasn't concerned. She already knew Michael and Alex figured he could trust them to not kill each other for the amount of time it would take him to shower.

The warm water splashing over his bare skin felt good and Alex closed his eyes, enjoying it. The shower room had been his one major change to the cabin when he'd moved in; the little cubicle it had previously had wouldn't have allowed him independence. But with the renovation to adapt the space, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

Considering what the day might bring formed his usual shower thoughts, doing his physical checks while he washed, using the grab bars to lift onto his one foot to rinse off thoroughly before returning to the stool.

Today, though, Alex couldn't stop thinking about Michael in his bedroom last night, laughing. He'd conjured the mental image many times before, at first in a kind of visualisation exercise after they'd reconnected that afternoon at Foster Homestead Ranch. Hoping to gather the courage to invite Michael home.

Since the drive-in, the image had been wistful, an homage to lost chances and what ifs.

But now Alex had a real memory. And yeah, Michael had been across the room at the time, but it had felt good to have him there, in Alex's private space.

Another memory floated to the surface. Not of Michael; this one was from hanging out with friends, in a different desert on another continent. A long discussion that got more and more ridiculous over the night, kicked off by Stevie's proclamation that any serious conversation with someone you wanted to fuck should be prefaced by getting your own rocks off. That way, you could focus on their words instead of picturing them naked.

His friends did have a way with words sometimes.

The stool was close enough to the wall to let Alex lean back, warm skin meeting ceramic tile. The abrupt chill caused a full body shiver but it faded fast as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, beginning to stroke.

He let his mind wander wherever it wanted to go. Whatever made his breath catch and his balls tingle. A lot of what surfaced weren't things he'd actually want to do in real life, but something about it turned him on, and he'd stopped trying to analyse or control his sex thoughts. They were private.

And vivid this morning. Alex could practically hear Michael, the sense memory of his noises strong in Alex's brain. Remembering the feel of work-roughened hands on him, in him, all over him.

He groaned, tensing as his body pulsed in release. Alex coaxed as much pleasure from himself as he could, lifting his hand away when he started to get over sensitive.

Masturbation, meditation, and whatever else it was going to take for Alex to stay on an even emotional keel today. Bring it on.






[end chapter nine]

Adjustable Plans



Late afternoon sun shone golden, tinting the air in the living room. It seemed to follow Michael, Alex thought, amused at the whimsical notion. His gaze traced the path of light along the curves of Michael's hair, each distinct curl gleaming. His fingers itched to follow the same path but he stayed in his chair, connected to Michael only by virtue of watching him, stretched long on the couch, facing away.

They'd agreed hours ago that it would be easier if they weren't looking at each other. Neither man was naturally given to this much talking and it had been a slog, especially in full daylight.

And minus any booze.

Alex was still processing the information dump. Twenty years of Michael's life, to the twenty-seven of his own. The differences between them could be encapsulated by those seven years.

Yesterday, Alex's world had turned inside out. Today, upside down.

What the hell was tomorrow going to bring?

"The only disadvantage to living out here is, no pizza delivery," Alex broke the silence.

Michael twisted to look at him. "Seriously, dude? That's your takeaway?"

Alex shrugged. "I'm hungry."

"You're..." Michael started to laugh. He slid flat on the couch again and dissolved into giggles.

Why it was so funny, Michael had no idea. But the laughter washed through him until he was gasping for air, sides aching, tears running from the outer corners of his eyes.

Eyebrows raised, Alex had to grin, seeing Michael shake. He couldn't hear any hysteria, just pure mirth.

"Ohhh," Michael groaned, sitting up as the giggles died away at last. "My stomach hurts now."

"And everywhere else?" Alex asked with a gentle smile.

Michael propped his forearms on his thighs and looked at the floor. "I think, 'lighter' might be the best way to put it. Some of that, I mean, I've never said it out loud before." He raised his head. "There wasn't anyone it was safe to tell."

"Yeah. I get that." And Alex did. He'd chosen to flaunt his sexuality in high school when he couldn't hide it, but if he'd been able to pass for straight, he knew he probably would have kept it to himself, particularly with the situation at home.

"What about you?"

"It's kind of like standing in the middle of a renovation. You know where you started, and you think you know where you're going to finish, but getting there requires redrawing some plans. And re-evaluating your priorities as to what really matters, because it isn't always what you thought it would be," Alex spoke slowly, feeling his way through the metaphor. "So I'm in the messy part, trying to figure out the priorities." He tilted his head. "Does that make sense?"

"It does." Fixing a car often had a similar trajectory. Michael's lips twitched. "But I can't believe you brought it back to DIY."

Alex rolled his eyes. "I didn't DIY the bathroom. I hired professional tradespeople."

"But the principle is the same, making adjustments to the plan as you go."

"Well, yeah," Alex conceded. "As long as we both understood what I meant in this context, though, that's what's important. And I think we do."

"Yeah." Michael felt antsy and drained at the same time, and more clear-headed than he'd been in years. "You got anything suitable for grilling? I can't cook worth a damn but I'm alright with a barbecue, and I saw you have one out back?"

"Um, whatever's in the fridge drawers should work. I refilled the tank last week so it should have plenty of fuel."

"Cool." It was all Michael said before heading to the kitchen, leaving Alex to sit alone in the sunglow, pensive now.

It wasn't okay, what Michael and his siblings had done. Alex knew the Ortechos had suffered so much more than the loss of Rosa. And the privileges afforded the aliens as Caucasians in New Mexico had made it easy to maintain the cover-up, because no one had bothered to look beyond the obvious scenario that had been presented to them.

Those same privileges had also meant that they hadn't anticipated how bad the town's reaction would actually be. It simply wouldn't have occurred to them.

And, those privileges blinded everyone else to what lay underneath. Caucasian, yes, but not human.

Statistics varied but the estimated amount of non-heterosexuals was something like ten percent of the global population, the last time Alex had checked. It was easy to feel alone, given the distribution of that population, but the actual number of people in that ten percent was, objectively, a lot.

Not so with Michael, Max, and Isobel. The three of them were it, on a planet of over seven billion people. And what that meant was that every move they made in their lives had to be designed to maximise their chances of survival.

Every move. No matter what.

What they'd done had been horrific. The continuation of it, keeping it covered up for ten years, was almost worse. None of it was right, none of it was okay, and there would need to be some reckoning.

But Alex found he could understand it. He'd lived through enough himself, learned enough from Michael in the past two days, to see the decision tree options for the situation the aliens had found themselves in, and every possible outcome had sucked.

Knowing that, feeling the truth of it in his bones, meant Alex could move forward now. He could live with himself if he helped.

Perhaps more importantly, he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't.



Standing over the barbecue, Michael tended the food, flipping the chicken breasts and sweet peppers without any utensils.

He'd needed to put some space between him and Alex. Michael felt like he'd taken 400 grit fine sandpaper to his emotions; everything felt huge, intense and raw. He'd shone some bright lights on some pretty fucking dark places.

Right now, the best thing Michael could do was let Alex be, to mull over all the garbage that had come out of Michael's mouth, and do his bit to feed him.

The air was cool in the shade. Fresh. Michael focused on the feel of the breeze against his face, blowing his hair around. He could tell he'd only recently cut it because it wasn't sticking him in the eyeballs.

The smells were making him hungry. He hadn't been; he'd wanted to get some breathing room, and take care of Alex. It was probably the last opportunity Michael would have. Alex had said he wanted to help, but after Michael's full disclosure, he was expecting Alex to change his mind.

He floated the cooked food onto the waiting plates and turned off the grill. Time to face the music.






[end chapter eleven]