This is my rendition of @female-overlord-3′s amazing fic, Not Possible, for the @malexremix.
Alex had no idea what Maria could want to tell them, but he was already running late. He checked his watch for the millionth time, imagining the Lockhart Machine sitting on his desk. He had a new theory he wanted to test out, but on his way to Deep Sky, Maria had sent an urgent text, telling them to meet her at the Wild Pony.
What was more, Michael hadn’t arrived yet, so the only presence that took priority over his work wasn’t there to distract him.
“Hey,” Maria came out from the backroom, deflating at once with both relief and something akin to resignation in the slump of her shoulders. Her eyes were glassy and her voice thick as she said, “Thanks for coming, guys.”
“Of course,” Liz said, brows furrowed, taking Maria’s hands. “What’s going on?”
“Are you okay?” Isobel frowned.
She shook her head, her lower lip trembling. “No, I don’t think I am, I …”
Alex looked around the space one more time. He would’ve known if Michael had come in. He always managed to sense him, though he had no idea how.
“Wait,” he said. “Guerin’s not here yet.”
Maria exhaled shakily, tilting her head at Alex as if sympathizing with a loss he didn’t know of. “Alex,” she breathed, “I … I didn’t call him. I didn’t want him to know.”
“What?” Isobel shut her eyes, brows pinched. “Maria, you’re starting to freak me out.”
“Why isn’t Michael here?” Max asked.
“Because I told you that someone dies in my vision,” she said desperately. “And … I think it’s him. I think it’s Michael’s funeral.”
Alex blinked. Everyone, surprisingly, turned to look at him. He scoffed. One sound, and the rest of the group’s impending panic faded at once.
“Oh thank god,” Isobel heaved, a hand on her chest. Max pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to overcome a near power surge he’d had at the possibility of anything happening to his brother.
“Maria,” Liz huffed a nervous chuckle. “You – you really scared us, you can’t do that!”
“What?” Maria looked around at all of them. “Guys, I’m not kidding!”
Alex turned away, rolling his eyes. “Well, this was fun, but I gotta get to work.”
“Alex!” Maria gaped. “I don’t believe this, are you seriously not going to take Michael getting hurt seriously?!”
Alex stopped. The bar turned dead silent. He slowly turned around.
“You know what I don’t believe?” he said, his voice dark and cold to his own ears. He couldn’t remember using this kind of voice since he was captain, and everyone seemed to sense that he wasn’t pleased because they kept quiet while he spoke. “I can’t believe you would dare think that I would cover up Michael’s murder.”
Maria faltered. “I – I didn’t –”
“If anyone ever touched him,” he said cruelly, “I’d burn them alive, and I’d fight like hell to bring him back. If that doesn’t work,” he smiled tightly, the mere thought of losing Michael pissing him off and turning him into someone he thought he’d gotten rid of a long time ago, “I’d join him.”
She swallowed thickly. “I … I only …” she looked around, expecting help, but everyone was either looking down or looking away, shaking their head in disbelief.
“Maria,” Max said evenly, “you really think any of us would show up to that kind of funeral?”
“If anything happened to Michael,” Isobel demanded, “I wouldn’t be crying, I’d be right there by Alex’s side! With an axe!”
“Maria,” Liz said quietly, shaking her head. “Alex knows what he’s talking about, okay?”
“Are we done?” Alex said, already turning around, his blood boiling and his fingers trembling with an anger that frightened even him. He had to get out of here. “Because I’ve got somewhere to be.”
No one tried to stop him as he left, no one said a word. He could still hear Maria give her stammering reasonings behind him, but he didn’t care. He needed to see Michael. Now.
Alex found Michael under the hood of a car as he’d driven into the junkyard. His heart pounded as it always did when he saw Michael, as it had done when he’d turned a corner the other night and found none other than the cowboy leaning against his car.
He’d tried to play off his fears, his misery at what he’d found out about his father, but Alex had seen it so painfully clearly. So he’d smiled and dismissed Michael’s concerns because that was what they were. Nothing.
As Alex stepped out of his car, he thought that of everyone he’d ever known, every soul he’d ever come across – there wasn’t anyone better than Michael Guerin. Human or not.
Michael straightened slowly, squinting at Alex. He rubbed one of his eyes with the back of his hand, either to wipe away the sweat rolling down his brow or because he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Before Alex said anything, Michael looked away, scoffing. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” He tried to hide the hurt in his voice, the silent plea that Alex was going to make the pain lingering in his chest go away, but Alex couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. He couldn’t ignore it. “You come because of the turquoise or –”
Michael cut of abruptly as Alex walked right up to him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Michael didn’t move, didn’t breathe. He was soaked in sweat, but Alex buried his face in the crook of his neck anyway, breathing him in.
Alex held him another few seconds. Only at Michael’s touch did the anger simmering under his skin finally cool down. Alex loved him. He loved him. He loved his body heat, his scent, the feel of him, unlike any other man. The idea that he would allow anyone to hurt a hair on Michael’s head was insulting, but having him so close now, it kept the fury at bay. He started to pull back just as he felt Michael’s fingers brush his waist, like he was daring to touch Alex back. Alex looked him straight in the eyes, and smiled. He couldn’t help it. He loved him.
He huffed a laugh, feeling a little freer and lighter than he had since the last time he’d seen Michael. “You know I’m going to keep you safe, right?”
Michael’s confusion faltered, and he swallowed. He briefly looked down, as if he wanted so much more than just safety from Alex, then looked up again and nodded.
Alex cupped his jaw once before he let his hands fall away. “Good. I’ll let you get back to work.”
He turned to leave, but he’d barely made it a few steps before Michael caught his hand. Alex looked back at him, and Michael met his eyes. He squeezed once, the need and desire and hope in every clench of his muscles, and he slowly let go.
Without a word, because Alex didn’t think he and Michael had ever needed any, he put his hands in his pockets and turned to leave, knowing that every fight he had ahead of him, just as the ones he’d fought in the past, were for his cowboy.
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