SAMMIE’S (wilson-bethel) FOLLOW FOREVER 2019!
It’s that time of the year! I am really bad at Follow Forevers but this year I have actually gotten back to using Tumblr more frequently and so many people on here have made it so special, so here it goes. I am surely going to forget someone and I am terribly sorry. A special thank you goes to @msjessicaday for being the inspiration behind my sitcom blog!
Also shoutout to some blog that I have just followed during my H50 binge that are providing the content I need. You are probably going to end up being some of my favourite blogs:
So this is my secret santa gift for @aewriting! Sorry it’s late! I got caught away from my computer over Christmas and couldn’t post it! But I do hope you like it!! It’s an AU, a vampire Alex au to be specific and a bit of a play on canon as well and I will possibly write some more for this going forward! Anyway, you can read it here on AO3 or below so enjoy!
Alex always kind of figured the desert in Roswell would smell different somehow, once he got home, since now he might actually be able to pick out the nuances of it, instead of just heat and dirt, but no. It still smelled like heat and dirt except now it was inside his head and less easily ignored. Enhanced senses were a bitch. The next time he saw a book or movie that acted as though they weren't he was going to lock the creators in a room with the worst mouldy food they could possibly imagine and see how they felt after a few hours.
It was just the cherry on top of an already depressing homecoming. Part of him had hoped that going home meant his freedom but here he was, having to bide out his time until his discharge became official and he could finally get away from Jesse Manes.
Alex didn't miss the glances he kept getting from his father, who was finishing up with the ranch owner, as he approached the air stream trailer they were sent to move, and a small part of Alex took pride in the wariness he saw there. It was a wariness he'd seen in his own eyes whenever he looked in the mirror as a kid; the kind that only came from always knowing there was danger but having no idea when it would reveal itself. Once, that danger had been his father's wrath. Alex wasn't foolish enough though to think the tables had fully turned. He wasn't still alive, still allowed to exist because there was no way to deal with... with what he'd become, and he'd literally stake his life on Jesse Manes knowing each and every one of those ways intimately. His father was a bastard of the highest order, but he was a paranoid son of a bitch as well and that made him dangerous.
Those were the reasons Alex kept his head down, why he didn't talk back to his father, no matter the temptation. He just wanted to be left alone, to live quietly and not make a fuss and soon he would be able to do just that. Until then, he had to follow orders.
The airman approached the trailer a little cautiously, his senses flaring out for any hint of danger or any other presence inside, but they came up empty. Well, almost empty. The smell of something lingered in the air, enough to make his nose twitch as Alex tried to identify the scent and his mind narrowed down into that one task. He leaned in closer to one of the dusty windows since it seemed to be stronger inside, but Alex was jarred out of his focus by a hand on his arm, tearing him back and away from the trailer. Instinct had him twisting, adjusting his grip on the crutch even as he caught his balance with the other foot and Alex had to stifle the slide into a defensive stance the surprise brought out in him.
Then he was face to face with Michael Guerin and shock ricocheted through Alex's system in an instant as his shoulders, and eyes, dropped. Unconsciously his grip relaxed as he recognised the physical threat to be non-existent and something akin to surprise go through Michael as well. Wind continued to blow around them, at his own back, but there were still scents that came to him across the chasm between them; alcohol, sweat and a hint of that elusive one he'd just been chasing. It nagged at his senses like before, yet worse somehow, but was chased away again by Michael's voice. By his name in that voice and Alex had to relinquish his focus to keep from reacting physically. He hadn't heard his name from Michael's lips in... in longer than he wanted to admit but never when he could almost feel the sound roll across his skin.
Honestly fuck his enhanced senses. Not only had they let Michael Guerin of all people sneak up on him, he felt like a teenager all over again.
“Your father must be proud.” Those words were like a bucket of ice down his spine and Alex couldn't help turning to look at the man in question. It was fuelled by more than a small dose of fear, and as Jesse caught his gaze, Alex felt his stomach knot in a familiar way as his mind immediately shifted into defensive mode, trying to figure out how to put as much distance between them as possible. Why did it have to be Michael fucking Guerin?
Then Michael started the job for him, mocking him with words he remembered spouting one god-forsaken night so many years ago, and Alex mirrored his mocking smirk as he replied. “Three quarters of one,” he shot back even as he leaned down to prove his point, throwing his injury between them like barrier even as his mind took note of the irony of the statement. Three quarters of a man. In his worst moments he'd wondered if even half that much had survived his change, after all, men didn't have fangs or feed on blood, but then neither had he until Iraq. His heart still felt the same. It still beat faster just looking at the man in front of him. Did that make him human? Alex didn't know, but now wasn't the time to debate it.
Guerin's eyes remained fixed on his leg even as Alex straightened and he knew he'd succeeded. His injury never failed to make people uncomfortable, often times enough so to leave him alone entirely and it seemed this was no different. He watched Guerin until he turned the conversation around on the curly haired man.
“What are you doing in this trailer? Sure as hell doesn't look legal.” He punctuated the statement with a shake of his head, as if he needed to make his disapproval blatant, and then Guerin began to talk. Alex glanced away, as feelings of exasperation and irritation went through him, along with a few others he wasn't willing to look too hard at, and swallowed to keep from commenting because it wasn't his place to do that. The words had sarcasm written all over them but Alex wasn't sure he'd retained the ability to truly tell what was truth or lie with Guerin any more, so he didn't comment. The jab about overthrowing the government felt like a joke, an inside one they should have shared, but the soldier brushed it aside. Inside jokes didn't make distance.
“Quick Alex. Run and tell your daddy.” But that sure fucking did and whatever minor, amused smile had come to his face at Guerin's sarcasm faded in an instant and Alex just stared even as Guerin half bodied him out of the way to enter the trailer. He let himself be moved, despite knowing he could have stayed put if he'd wanted to, and another burst of that scent assaulted him in the close proximity. It drew Alex's gaze to where Guerin pulled open the door to the trailer and he caught a brief glimpse of the inside before it was shut again, leaving him standing unsteadily on the doorstep as the wind continued to blow a gale around him.
His mind turned over that whole exchange for a few moments, his relief and sadness and frustration all warring against each other for priority in his feelings until there was a call to head back to base and Alex, quite jarringly, realised he'd let himself become distracted again. Shaking off his stupor and firmly quashing everything he was feeling, Alex let his mask fall back into place and he turned back towards the truck and his father's watchful eyes. He didn't know what Jesse Manes had seen in that exchange but Alex could only hope it wasn't worth noting to the older man.
As he climbed into the truck and it started back towards the base, Alex could still feel the phantom presence of that scent in his nose and head and he unconsciously took a deeper breath to try and catch more of it, only for it to maddeningly disappear for good. If only his memory of the interaction, of Guerin, could do the same.
When I start to get upset that nothing is happening in a cannon ship, they barely have had any scenes together and haven’t touched in weeks or I’m not particularly happy with how their relationship is being developed, I remember that some ships never become cannon and I could be suffering though seeing my ships potential for happiness not being explored and having my hopes dashed at every turn, again.
