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This is far from Alex's first visit to the Pony since he got back, but it is his first as a newly-single man. Forrest left early on his book tour, and neither he nor Alex were fond enough of each other to do the long-distance thing again. He isn't exactly looking to drown his sorrows, but he wouldn't say no to a drink, either.
The Pony is busy tonight, so Alex gets his drink from Maria and leaves the bar, searching for a place to sit down on something more comfortable than a bar stool. The only empty - or almost-empty - table he can find does have one occupant; the sight of him makes Alex's heart skip a beat. Michael Guerin looks good, as he always does when he wears that flannel with his black cowboy hat, slouching just a little bit as he nurses a beer.
Alex hesitates for a moment - but maybe this is his chance. He hadn't been able to talk to Michael after his song on Open Mic night, hadn't had a chance for a deep conversation before he left, and since Alex got back, they've both been busy. But maybe now, tonight...
Alex gathers his nerves, and approaches Michael's table, rapping his knuckles on the wood. "Room for one more?"
Michael looks up, his surprise quickly replaced by a warm smile. "Alex," he says, "hey. Uh, yeah, sure, sit down." He gestures to the seat across from him. "How've you been?"
"Keeping busy," Alex says, easing into the seat across from Michael. "Forrest left for his book tour, and I figured a night out was in order."
"Oh, well, good for him," Michael says. He tips his beer towards Alex. "And for me, since you're free tonight." He gives Alex a smile so bright and boyish that for a second, Alex loses his breath. But then it's gone, Michael raising the bottle to his lips and leaning back in his seat. "He gone long?"
"At least six months," Alex says, shrugging. "His agent managed to get him in all over the country, and he wanted to do some sightseeing, so he's just making a huge loop."
Michael nods, impressed. "Must be nice," he says. "Don't tell Max, he'll get jealous."
Alex snickers, taking a drink. "What've you been up to? Haven't seen you since I got back."
Michael shrugs. "I've been keeping busy," he says. "Helping Liz in the lab some, working on the console. Izzy is dragging me and Max to some kind of benefit in a few weeks, so you might want to keep your head down unless you want to be wrestled into a suit."
"Well, maybe I want to see you in a suit," Alex says, smirking. "Don't think I've seen you in one since Prom."
Michael winces. "Yeah, that was on Isobel's dime, too," he says. "But come if you want to. Maybe it'll be something close to fun with you there."
Alex smiles, and from there, the conversation meanders. They talk about everything and nothing, and the noise of the bar around them fades away. It almost feels like it used to during that long-ago summer. Alex learns more about what Michael and his siblings have been up to, and shares stories of his own - well, what stories he's allowed to tell, that aren't classified. Michael finally asks him just what he's been doing that's so damned secret, and Alex just laughs. "I'd tell you," he says, "but then I'd have to kill you." He gives Michael a slow once-over, gaze dragging over Michael's shoulders, the fabric of his flannel straining just so. His lips curve into a smirk, and he meets Michael's gaze once again. "And if I'm going to take you out, it won't be like that."
Michael's eyes widen, and he laughs, though it's a little strained. "Wow," he says, "what a line. That work on all the boys?" Alex would answer, but he's already sliding out of the booth. "You know what, I'm gonna get another drink. Do you want one?"
Alex sits back in his seat, a little put out, but he lets his smirk fade into something closer to a friendly smile. "Yeah, thanks," he says.
Michael is gone a moment later, and Alex, facing the bar, watches him go. He catches Maria's attention quickly enough, leaning over to be heard more clearly, and Alex feels his face warming up. It should be illegal for jeans to fit that well.
Maria flits away to grab their drinks, and Michael settles back on his heels to wait. Alex picks up his phone to check his messages - but the appearance of a busty blonde at the bar keeps his gaze on Michael. The woman saunters up to him, sliding one hand into place at the small of his back; Michael startles and turns to look, but relaxes at the sight of her, an easy smile on his face.
Annoyingly, Alex can't hear what they're saying, but the woman is laying it on thick, all coy smiles and heaving cleavage. Michael has turned to face her fully, and is talking to her like he's very familiar with her. Alex would put money on her not being a regular customer at the junkyard - or not just a regular customer, anyway.
Abruptly, Alex realizes he can’t be here. He’s still sober enough to drive, so he takes advantage of that, leaving a couple bills on the table to pay Michael for the drink that Alex isn’t going to get. He doesn’t look back on his way out of the Pony, and tries to write the ugly feeling in his chest off as heartburn.
Unfortunately, that doesn’t hold up for long. Once he gets home, Alex… doesn’t really have anything else to do. He does have some tequila and Coke, even has half a bottle of whiskey he thinks Greg gave him a while ago, and he’s got Netflix. At the time, it doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world, getting drunk in the privacy of his own home and watching some movies that have been on his to-watch list for ages. Most of them are sci-fi movies with cheesy romantic subplots, and after three drinks on a mostly-empty stomach, Alex can’t stop himself from reaching for his phone, the impulse - the need - to talk to his own alien too much to ignore.
Alex barely glances at the time - late enough that the heaviness in his fingers isn’t all alcohol - before he dials Michael’s number. They’ve been in and out of touch for years, but Alex has always had it memorized, even when Michael’s information is saved in his phone’s contacts. There’s something about dialling the actual number that Alex likes too much to examine right now. The phone rings - and rings, and rings, until Alex is starting to think that maybe Michael won’t pick up, but then -
”Hey, it’s Guerin.”
Alex is speaking before he really thinks through what he’s going to say. “Forrest and I broke up,” he says, barrelling right over whatever Michael’s saying next, because he needs to get this out right now. “Like, a couple days ago. It’s soon, I know, but - I don’t want you to think that I don’t love you anymore.” Alex thinks he says something else - or maybe Michael does - but he has no idea what, because the alcohol and late night are catching up to him, pulling him under before he even has a chance to hang up the phone.
The hangover hits Alex like the fist of God the next morning, and he spends most of the next day in bed, the curtains drawn and the lights off. It's evening by the time Alex feels even halfway human, and he just scrapes together a dinner and goes back to sleep, trying to ignore his silent phone.
The next day, Alex decides he can't hide out at the house anymore. He heads into town, just hungry enough to want to go to the Crashdown for a shake and fries. It seems like half the tourists in Roswell have the same idea, because Alex has to park a couple blocks away. He makes sure his car locks, then tucks his hands into his pockets and walks, caught up in his own thoughts until he almost collides with someone. An accident is avoided only because the other person was paying more attention, and manages to dodge most of the way, only bumping into Alex's shoulder, jostling him out of his head.
"Sorry," he starts, lifting his gaze - only to falter when he sees the man standing in front of him.
Michael looks just as stunned as Alex feels, but he finds his tongue first. "Alex," he says. "I didn't see you."
"I wasn't watching where I was going," Alex says, shrugging one shoulder.
"No harm, no foul," Michael says, already backing off. Is it just Alex, or does Michael look as tired as he feels? "I'll see you around, yeah?"
"I was just headed to the Crashdown," Alex offers impulsively. "Wouldn't mind company."
Michael startles like a spooked deer. "Oh," he says, "I've eaten, sorry."
"Oh." Alex hesitates, looking at Michael for a moment; he's not quite looking at Alex, and his posture screams uncomfortable. "Well, I'm starving - " An exaggeration, especially now, taking in Michael's expression and the careful distance between them " - so I'll head on. Talk to you later?"
"Yeah," Michael says, still not looking at Alex. "Later, Manes." And then he's gone.
Alex doesn't see Michael again until the following weekend, and spends that time pretending that he's not obsessing about it. When he finally does see Michael, it's from across a crowded bar, and then from the opposite end of the table their group of friends have commandeered in the middle of the Pony. Michael hasn't looked his way all night, and definitely hasn't come near him. Alex has yet to find a chance to make the first move, though he wouldn't know what to say if he did.
Michael has plenty to say to Isobel right now. He still looks tired, and that's being kind. He looks like he's barely sleeping, probably not eating enough either. Alex always finds it difficult to keep his eyes off him, but it's especially hard tonight, when he's hungry for the sight of him, cataloguing every difference and hoping to catch his eye. It's no surprise that Maria notices.
"You've been quiet tonight," she says. "Missing someone, maybe?"
Alex startles, turning to look at Maria with wide eyes. "What?"
Maria sends a pointed look in Michael's direction. "Your boyfriend?"
Alex blinks, then can't help but laugh. "Oh, no," he says. "Forrest and I broke up."
In his peripheral vision, Alex sees Michael's head snap up, but he doesn't let himself look away from Maria to gauge the look on his face. Maria's face is doing something that really wants to be sympathetic, but isn't quite managing it. "Really?" she asks. "I guess that explains it."
Alex shrugs. "We broke up a week and a half ago? Before he left on his book tour. We liked each other, but not enough to do long distance again."
"You're not super cut up about it, then?" Maria asks, though it's clear she knows the answer.
"Not really," Alex says. "I think I'm ready to stop living in the past, and start looking forward, you know?"
There's a loud scraping sound as Michael pushes his chair back and stands, striding past them towards the men's room. Maria turns her head to watch him go. "Does he know that?"
Alex looks after Michael for a moment, then glances back towards Maria. "I already talked to him," he says, aiming for casual; there's a pit in his stomach.
"Hmm." Maria shakes her head. "Boys are idiots," she tells him. "You'll figure it out."
Despite Maria's confidence, they don't work it out that night, or at any point in the following week. By Thursday, Alex is ready to vibrate out of his skin. He's meant to be working from home, but that isn't enough to distract him from the urge to call Michael again, so he decides to get the hell out of the house. He winds up at Liz's lab, laptop resting on a bench, chatting idly with her while they both get some work done. It's easily the best day he's had all week, and though the bar was pretty low to begin with, it's nice to hang out and take his mind off of everything.
Of course, reality comes crashing back in when someone knocks on the door, and Liz springs out of her seat, saying, "Oh, great, that'll be Mikey."
Alex freezes, heart rate kicking up several notches. "Guerin? What?"
"He's just dropping some stuff off," Liz says, like it's no big deal at all - and then she's pulling the door open, and there he is. "Come in, come in, we're just about to take a break for lunch."
"We?" Michael asks, stepping around Liz with a box in his arms. His gaze lands on Alex, and the colour drains from his face. "Oh."
Alex swallows, offering Michael a slightly-shaky smile. "Hey, Guerin."
"Hey," Michael says, though he's already looking back at Liz. "Where did you want this stuff?"
"Just on that bench over there," Liz says, and Michael walks past her to put the box down. "Do you want to come for lunch with us? Be nice to catch up, right Alex?"
"Yeah," Alex says. "It's been, what, a week?"
"Uh, yeah," Michael says, rubbing the back of his neck, "but I'm actually kind of swamped today, there's this thing Isobel needs me to do."
Alex feels his heart sink. "Really, you can't even take time for lunch?"
"Come on, Mikey," Liz wheedles, smiling, but Michael shakes his head.
"Sorry, I've really gotta run."
"Well, don't let us keep you," Alex says, trying to keep his tone light.
"Right," Michael says, already backing towards the door. "I'll see you guys later."
As soon as he's gone, Liz turns to look at Alex with a raised eyebrow. "What the hell was that about?"
Alex feigns innocence. "What?"
"You don't think he was being weird?"
Alex shrugs. "Maybe a little bit? But you know how Isobel gets, she might've just been on him to get back to whatever she's planning."
"I guess," Liz says, just as innocent. "I thought it might have been because he found out you broke up with Forrest."
Alex blinks, thrown. "What do you mean?"
Liz shrugs, already elbow-deep in the box Michael left and no longer looking at him. "Just that it's probably going to be awkward for a while. Until he gets his head out of his ass, I mean."
Alex opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Yeah, probably," he says. "I'll talk to him later."
Liz throws him a soft smile over her shoulder. "Give it time," she says. "You got this."
Alex wasn't going to go to the charity event at the drive in on Saturday, he really wasn't. The last one is still fresh in his mind, a complete disaster that still haunts him late at night when he can't sleep. But Maria mentioned that Michael was helping her haul stuff out there for her pop-up bar, and Alex has always been a glutton for punishment.
He's only been there for about ten minutes, wandering around and eyeing up the food stalls, when he finds Michael surveying the crowd with Isobel. She lights up when she sees him; Michael doesn't look his way at all.
"Alex! I didn't know you were coming!"
"Hey, Isobel," he says, giving her a smile and a wave as he draws closer. "I figured I'd at least drop by and see what you had Michael doing that was so important he couldn't have lunch with me and Liz the other day."
The smile slips off of Isobel's face, to be replaced by a puzzled frown. "What do you mean?" she asks, turning to look at Michael. "I didn't ask you to--"
Michael clears his throat loudly, and shoots her a sharp look, completely unsubtle.
"Oh," she says, eyes wide. "Yeah, you helped me with the-- thing. How could I forget?"
Alex's stomach sinks somewhere below the Earth's crust. He'd had a suspicion, but to actually catch Michael in the lie... "Right," he says slowly. "Well, it looks great, Isobel. Hope everything goes well."
"Thanks," Isobel says, awkward now. "I hope you enjoy it."
Alex nods and wanders off, picking a direction pretty much at random. He doesn't pay much attention to his surroundings other than making sure he doesn't run into anyone or anything. Alex lets himself get lost in his own thoughts as he wanders, though they're too tangled to really make sense of. He just... can't figure out what's going on with Michael. Giving Michael that call while he was drunk clearly wasn't a good idea, since he obviously botched telling Michael he was single again, but even after that got cleared up... Alex has to rub at his sternum, trying to massage away the sudden ache there. There's only one explanation that Alex can think of for Michael's behavior, and it's not one he likes.
Alex eventually surfaces from his meandering thoughts to see he's ended up near the drink stand - and so has Michael. There's a lull, the volunteer working the stand is busy restocking the cups and other things, and Michael is looking at his phone. It only takes Alex a moment to make up his mind, jogging closer. "Hey, Guerin!"
Michael looks up at the sound of his name, but his expression darkens when he sees Alex. He sighs. "What do you want, Manes?"
"Can we talk?" Alex asks, glancing around. "Things have been tense, and I want to make sure we're on the same page."
Michael huffs. "Oh, we are," he says. "You don't have to worry about that."
Alex blinks taken aback. "I don't?"
"No," Michael says, "you've made yourself perfectly clear."
Still, Alex hesitates. "Then why the radio silence?" he presses. "I thought we could be adults about this for once."
Michael ducks his head to watch as he drags the toe of his boot through the dirt. "Of course it's on me to be an adult about it," he mutters. "I'm just gonna need a minute, all right? And I'm gonna need you to respect that."
"Michael - " Alex starts, stung, but then he stops himself, sighing and taking a step back. "Alright."
Michael sighs, too, but it sounds more like relief. "Thank you."
Alex nods, and after one last, long look, he turns on his heel and walks away.
Alex keeps his distance for a week, burying himself in work to keep from obsessing over Michael's words at the charity event. That only works while he's actually working; any other time, especially before he falls asleep, he replays the conversation over and over. Alex wants to do things right this time, and he's clearly already messed up with how he started, ditching Michael that night at the Pony and then calling him after getting drunk enough to fall asleep mid-sentence. He needs to follow Michael's lead, and he intends to do just that.
He intends to, and then the brakes on his car start making an unholy screeching noise if he does more than tap them. There's no other mechanic in town - not that Alex would trust, anyway - so Alex bites the bullet, determined to go to the junkyard, get his brakes looked at, and leave as quickly as possible.
When he pulls into the junkyard, his brakes helpfully wail like mechanical demons, and Alex has barely turned his car off before Michael's head is poking out of the shop. Alex takes a deep breath and gets out of the car, speaking as soon as his door is open. "I'm sorry to bother you, but, uh. This couldn't exactly wait."
"Yeah, I can hear that," Michael says, a resigned look on his face as he comes over. "Go sit down, I'll take a look."
There's really only a couple places to sit, and Alex doesn't feel comfortable going to the camping chairs by the Airstream. He doesn't want to crowd Michael, but that seems... just as bad. He settles on sitting on a nearby metal case of drawers, hoping there's nothing in them that Michael will need. "They only make that noise when I have to brake hard," he offers. "If I just tap them, like driving on the highway, there's a little bit of shake in the steering wheel but no demonic summoning."
"It's probably the brake pads," Michael says, "but I'll need to get under it to be sure. I'll try not to keep you long."
Alex nods. "I don't have anything else planned for today; was just out running some errands when it got bad."
So Michael gets to work. They don't talk while he tinkers under the car, and when he emerges it's just to tell Alex that the rotors and brake pads are worn. He pulls the car into the shop so he can get it on the lift, leaving Alex to entertain himself while he works. Alex fucks around on his phone for a while, and stares into space for a while longer, trying to gather his nerve - and startles when Michael brings the car back out.
"It's too late in the day for me to get the parts," Michael says when he comes over, keys held out in front of him. "I've patched it up so it's okay to drive, but bring it back in the morning and I'll fix it."
Alex takes his keys, careful not to touch Michael. "Are you sure?" he asks before he can think it through. "I can come back whenever Sanders has time."
Michael glares at him. "You're the one who told me to put on my big boy pants and act like an adult, and now you think I can't even fix your car?"
"You've been on edge ever since I got here," Alex snaps. "Excuse me for not wanting to make you more uncomfortable!"
"Oh, now you care if I'm uncomfortable," Michael says, rolling his eyes.
Alex gapes at him. "You told me to give you space, and I was doing that," he says incredulously. "I wouldn't even be here if my brakes weren't shot. What the hell, Guerin?"
"And what about before that," Michael asks, "when you wouldn't leave me the hell alone?"
Alex shakes his head, feeling lost. "Like I said, I was trying to be an adult about things this time and be nice - or at least civil."
This only seems to fan the flames of Michael's ire. "Why is that up to you?" he demands. "Why do you get to decide that it's time to be civil and move on, and I just have to go along with it? It's Alex's world, we all just live in it, right?"
Alex just feels even more bewildered. "What the hell are you talking about? Who said anything about moving on?"
"You keep telling me to act like an adult!" Michael cries. "How am I supposed do that without moving on? You might be over it, Alex, and that's nice for you, but I'm not."
"Over what?" Alex demands; he's completely lost the thread of this conversation.
"Us!" Michael's eyes are wild, his expression stricken. "Maybe you're done, but I wasn't, and you had to know that when you made that call."
Alex boggles at him for a moment. "I didn't say I was done," he finally gets out. "I - The opposite, actually."
The fight drains out of Michael, and he sighs, suddenly exhausted. "I know you're not done with me," he says. "I know you still want to be friends, and that's-- great, honestly, I'm sure I'll be grateful for that one day. Hopefully one day soon. And I get it, you know? You broke up with Forrest and you wanted to make sure I wouldn't try to make a move and make everything awkward. I just wasn't ready, I guess, and that's my problem. I'm trying to work on it."
Alex stares at Michael for a long moment, searching for words. "I mean this in the nicest way possible, but - Guerin. What the fuck are you talking about? Why wouldn't I want you to make a move?"
Now it's Michael's turn to look confused. "Because you don't love me anymore."
Alex feels like he's fallen through some sort of alternate-dimension-portal. "When the hell did I say that?"
"When you called me that night," Michael says. "You sounded pretty drunk, but you didn't exactly leave much room for interpretation."
"Maybe you were drunk, too," Alex shoots back. "And misunderstood something - I remember what I said, and I was very clear."
"I know exactly what you said," Michael sighs. "Come on, Alex, why are we doing this?"
"Because you don't know what I said!" Alex cries. "I never told you to not make a move, I never said I was over you, or that I wanted you to get over me!"
"Do you want me to prove it?" Michael asks, reaching into his pocket.
Alex throws his hands in the air. "Sure, but how the hell you're going to do that - "
Michael pulls out his phone, taps at the screen for a moment, and holds it out between them.
A tinny, recorded voice tells them, "You have one saved message, left at..." That's the date Alex called Michael, sure, and probably around the same time, but what does this have to do with anything? And then Alex's own voice speaks, the words slurred but clear as a bell.
"I don't love you anymore."
Alex chokes on air, staring at Michael's phone in horror. That's his voice, and he remembers saying that, but that wasn't all. "Michael," he breathes, stricken, but then flounders; where does he even begin trying to explain this?
"You know, I listened to it every night," Michael says, tears in his eyes. "At first. Less now, but still sometimes. I couldn't figure out where I went wrong. I guessed I came on too strong in the Pony, because you were just gone when I got back from the bar, but then I got this, and I thought, yeah, he's with Forrest now, why would he?" He sniffles. "Then I found out you weren't with Forrest, and you were just telling me you didn't want me anyway. You just wouldn't go away, and I don't understand why, because you had to know how I feel to send that message, but what? You want me to just be okay? I can't, Alex, I'm not."
"Fuck," Alex wheezes, stumbling forward a step, barely keeping himself from reaching out for Michael. "No, Michael - God, I thought I was talking to you, not a voicemail!"
Michael chokes out a watery laugh. "Is that meant to make it better?"
"Shit, no, that's not - " Alex cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "When you left to get drinks, I saw you flirting with some woman, and I... overreacted. I left, went home and got drunk and stuck in my head while watching stupid sci-fi movies. I finally decided to call you, and I thought you answered." Alex scrubs both hands over his face. "I heard you say your name, and I started talking, and then I thought I just talked over you, but I had to get it all out. Whatever I heard must've been the last of your message, but that - " He gestures to the phone in Michael's hand " - was just the last part of what I said, and missing... all of the context."
Michael glares at him, a tightness in his jaw like he's trying not to let the tears in his eyes fall. "So what did you say?"
Alex sighs, shoulders slumping. "I said, 'Forrest and I broke up, and I'm ready for us now. I don't want you to think...'" He trails off, gesturing helplessly towards Michael's phone.
"That you don't love me anymore," Michael finishes, flat. He looks gutted, hollowed out, staring at the phone still held out uselessly between them. "I thought..."
"Yeah," Alex says, quiet and devastated. "I can see that, now."
"What the fuck," Michael whispers, mostly to himself. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"I don't know," Alex admits, his voice miserable even to his own ears. "I - I shouldn't have called that night. I'm so sorry."
Michael shakes his head, his empty hand curling into a loose fist at his side. "Alex, what the fuck," he says again, louder this time. "You really didn't even know you'd left a voicemail? You thought you'd said all of... that to me, and I was just stonewalling you?"
Alex shrugs helplessly. "I thought I'd made you uncomfortable, which I couldn't blame you for, so I was trying to be polite while waiting for you to decide if you still wanted me, or if you were ready for us."
"I will always want you," Michael says simply. "And I've been ready for... a while."
Alex swallows. "Even with this whole mess?" he asks, voice smaller than he wants it to be.
Michael shrugs. "I've been trying to work on it," he says. "Trying to make myself stop. But it hasn't been going so well."
Alex hesitates, and then takes a tentative step closer. "For what it's worth, I don't want to stop wanting you, either."
"Careful, Manes," Michael says softly. "I've taken you at your word before."
"But this time, I'm standing right in front of you," Alex counters, the corner of his mouth twitching as he lifts one hand, letting Michael see the fine tremor to it. "I'm..." He laughs a little. "I'm terrified that I've fucked this up, and that I haven't. That things might actually work out. How stupid is that?"
Michael laughs, too. "You'd better pick a camp, 'cause I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"I'm terrified," Alex repeats, voice firming as his resolve does. "But I am so goddamn tired of pretending that you aren't it for me, Michael. Maybe we'll crash and burn, but... Maybe we'll make it work. I'm ready to find out, if you are." He holds out his still-trembling hand.
Michael only hesitates for a second before he takes Alex's hand, his gaze determined, his grip sure. "I'm ready," he says. "Alex Manes, I love you, and I always will. I'm sorry that I've ever let you doubt that."
"I love you, too," Alex says, voice thick with emotion as he squeezes Michael's hand. "And I'm sorry I got so stuck in my head that I fucked up telling you how I feel, and hurt you so much."
Michael's lips quirk up in a gentle smile, and he tugs on Alex's hand, reeling him in. "Come here," he says. "I think after all that, we both deserve a hug.
Alex doesn't need to be told twice; he closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Michael's waist and clinging. He refuses to feel embarrassed about how tightly he's holding Michael, not after the past couple weeks and the harrowing conversation they just had. Michael is holding him just as tight, anyway, face buried in the crook of Alex's shoulder like he needs this just as much.
They stay like that for what feels like several long, blissful minutes, but then Michael draws back with a sigh. He keeps Alex in the circle of his arms, but there's something in his eyes that has Alex bracing for impact. "Is there any way I can ask for space right now without you freaking out?" he asks.
Alex hesitates. "Space for what?" he asks carefully.
"To screw my head back on," Michael says. "I've spent the last few weeks thinking you were done with me. I think I just... need some time to process, you know?"
Alex's lips twist in a sympathetic grimace. "Yeah," he sighs. "To be honest, that might be a good idea for me, too."
"I'm sorry," Michael says, wincing. "I wish I'd just talked to you about it. I wanted to, but every time I listened to that voicemail, it got harder. What was the point, y'know?"
"And I kept trying to act like nothing was wrong, trying to make you more comfortable, and doing... the exact opposite." Alex swallows. "So, yeah. Maybe we should take a couple of days."
Michael takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he agrees. "And then, we see where we're at. How we want to move forward."
Alex nods. "Okay." He hesitates, and then takes a breath. "Can I ask you for something?"
"Anything," Michael says.
"Can I see your phone?"
Michael blinks. "Uh, yeah," he says, and steps back to offer it to him.
Alex takes it, and it only takes a moment to open the voicemail app. "I want to delete that damned voicemail," he says. "It's been nothing but trouble."
Michael makes an abortive gesture like he's going to grab the phone, but stops himself from actually reaching out. "Alex--"
"I love you," Alex says fiercely. "And I don't want you to ever think I don't again. And I don't want you torturing yourself with this."
Michael's mouth tightens, but Alex recognises it as petulance rather than defiance. "I don't know if I'd call it torturing myself."
Alex raises a brow. "I would," he says simply. "And I - I can't go back in time and make myself not call. But I can try to start fixing that mistake now."
Michael sniffs, and nods. "Do what you gotta do."
It only takes a moment to get rid of the voicemail, and then Alex holds Michael's phone out. "There."
"Thanks," Michael says, taking it from him and shoving it in his pocket. "You'll need to come back in tomorrow to let me fix your car, but maybe we can talk more in a few days? Get dinner or something?"
"I'd like that," Alex says, smiling. "Just let me know when; I can clear my schedule."
Michael grins. "Just for me?"
"Of course," Alex says, easily returning Michael's smile. "Always."
So Alex goes home, with his car whose brakes are still noisy, but at least not demons-from-Hell noisy, and tries not to get stuck in his head again. He manages by throwing himself into work, only surfacing for long enough to grab something to eat before diving back in. He almost falls asleep at his desk, and barely has the energy to get his prosthetic off before collapsing into bed. For once, he sleeps like the dead, and even manages to sleep in past daybreak the next morning. Emotional turmoil is exhausting.
He wakes up to a text from Michael saying he's going in to get the parts he needs to fix Alex's brakes as soon as the shop opens. Alex texts back an affirmative, planning to get there around ten in the morning. He shows up promptly, and manages to keep his pining looks to a minimum - except for whenever Michael is actually under the vehicle and can't see Alex's face. He pays Michael and says goodbye, the handshake he awkwardly offers lingering a few moments too long before Michael's calloused palm drags against Alex's own. Alex obsesses over the touch for the rest of the day, swears he can feel it even hours later, when his phone pings cheerfully at him with a text message.
It's from Michael, because of course it is.
So I have this theory...
About what? Alex sends back, trepidation stirring in his chest.
About the whole "space" thing. I'm thinking it isn't actually going to help me believe everything we talked about the other day...
Alex's heart rate picks up for a whole different reason. Oh?
I think what I need is to just be with you
It takes a moment for Alex to catch his breath. Are you sure?
I'm sure, but it's ok if you're not
Alex almost fumbles the phone to the floor in his haste to reply. No, I'm sure. I told you - just tell me when, and I'll clear my schedule.
Well how about right now?
Just tell me where, Alex types, already getting to his feet to hunt down his keys.
Michael doesn't text him back, but Alex isn't going to let that deter him now. He's just got his hands on his keys when he hears a knock at the door.
He freezes, staring at the door for a moment. There's no way...
And yet, Alex opens the door to see Michael standing on his front porch.
He gives Alex a sheepish smile. "Surprise?"
Alex blinks. "How the hell did I not hear you pull up?" he demands, glancing over Michael's shoulder for his truck. "How long have you been here?"
The sheepish look becomes something closer to outright embarrassment. "I parked down the street," Michael admits, "in case you said no."
Alex's heart twists, and he reaches out without thinking, touching the back of Michael's hand. "I'd never say 'no' to you."
Michael softens. "You can, though. About anything, not just this."
"Let me rephrase, then." Alex takes a deep breath, bracing himself. "I'm done saying 'no' to you - to us. If you're ready to give this a try, then I'm all in. No more hesitation, no more excuses, no more running away."
Michael smiles, and catches Alex's hand in his. "Then can I come in?"
Alex uses their joined hands to tug Michael through the door, letting it fall shut behind him. "I was just trying to distract myself with work," he confesses. "So the place is kind of a mess."
"I don't care," Michael says, pausing long enough to kick his boots off. "My place is just as bad. I just wanted to be with you."
Alex's heart skips a beat, and he can't help but smile. "Well... how about a movie? I've got popcorn, I think."
Michael grins. "That sounds great."
Alex smiles, squeezing Michael's hand and drawing him towards the couch. "I was thinking about a superhero movie," he says. "Maybe Aquaman?"
"I haven't seen it," Michael admits, a wry twist to his lips. "Been a little busy lately. So, yeah. Do you want me to grab drinks or anything?"
"There's tea and soda in the fridge," Alex says. "I'll get Netflix set up."
"You got it," Michael says. He lifts Alex's hand to his lips before he releases it, and then disappears into the kitchen.
Alex's smile lingers as he hunts down the remote, getting the movie started. Michael comes back with a glass of tea, that he sets on the coffee table in front of Alex, and a Coke for himself. Alex waits only long enough for Michael to put the drinks down before he reaches out, tugging Michael onto the couch and against his side. "This okay?"
Michael slings an arm over the back of the sofa and wraps it around Alex's shoulders so that they're pressed together, warm and solid and real. "Now it's perfect."
Alex relaxes against Michael, smiling. "Yes, it is," he murmurs, turning his attention to the movie. It's a good movie, Alex knows; he's seen it before. Unfortunately, that means that it doesn't capture all of his attention. In fact, he's rather distracted by Michael, and he's impressed at himself for holding out almost an entire hour before he finally breaks. "Hey, Michael?" he murmurs, shifting slightly in his seat.
"Mmm?" Michael hums, turning his head to nose at Alex's cheek.
"Can I kiss you?"
He feels rather than sees Michael's slow, easy smile. "You don't have to ask."
"I just want to be sure," Alex murmurs, reaching up so he can cup Michael's jaw, leaning in until his lips meet Michael's.
Michael makes a soft, pleased sound, and kisses back, his hand warm as it slides over Alex's waist and pulls him even closer. Alex moves readily, moaning softly at the feeling of Michael's chest against his, the slight rasp of his stubble catching Alex's making him shiver in delight. The hand not resting against Michael's neck wanders, skimming up Michael's stomach to rest on his chest, a wordless question.
Michael answers by slipping his fingers under the hem of Alex's shirt, the touch searing against his skin. Alex groans, slipping one hand into Michael's hair so he can tug at it just the way he knows Michael likes.
Michael tips his head back, baring his throat and hissing a low, drawn-out, "Fuck."
Heat spikes in Alex's gut, making him groan as well, pressing impossibly closer -
But then he makes himself stop, letting his forehead drop to Michael's shoulder, since he can't quote make himself pull away. "Wait," he gasps. "Hang on, Michael - "
"What is it?" Michael asks, his breathing uneven against Alex's temple. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I just - " Alex has to swallow, fighting to get his own breathing under control. "We should slow down."
"Oh, shit," Michael says, starting to pull back. "Do you not want to?"
"No, no," Alex says hastily, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Michael's waist. "I just - I don't want us falling into old patterns. We have a habit of rushing into sex, and I want to do things right this time."
"Oh," Michael says. His eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed; he's looking at Alex like he holds the key to the universe. "Yeah, me too. I really don't want to fuck this up."
"So why don't we pump the brakes here?" Alex suggests, voice soft. "I want to at least get a proper date in before we jump into bed."
Michael smirks. "Just the one?"
Alex rolls his eyes, but he can't stop his smile. "I mean, if you don't want me to put out after the first date, we can wait..."
Michael reaches up to touch his face, his expression serious now. "I want you to do whatever you're comfortable with. If you want to wait, we'll wait."
Alex feels himself soften. "I want you," he says, "but... Like I said, I'm afraid we'll fall into old patterns if we have sex now. So I do want to wait, just for a little while."
"All right," Michael says, a tender smile on his lips. "I like the idea of a date, though, whatever happens after."
"Good," Alex says, smiling. "How about breakfast?"
"Breakfast," Michael says, pressing in for another kiss, "sounds amazing."
"Good," Alex murmurs. "But just so we're clear, you're more than welcome to stay the night before our date."
"Would that happen to be tonight?" Michael asks, grinning.
"I mean, if you had other plans," Alex starts, drawing back as if he's disappointed.
Michael laughs and reels him back in. "No other plans," he says. "I have nothing on my books for the next week except kissing you."
"Good," Alex says, aiming for 'smug' and stalling out somewhere around 'painfully sincere.' "I have absolutely no objections to that."
"Then you won't mind if I get started right now," Michael says, and presses their lips together.