Jun 19, 2020
So, did he make a move or what? Come on, Michael. Read it out loud.
for @angsty-aliens
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So, did he make a move or what? Come on, Michael. Read it out loud.
for @angsty-aliens
Malex or Michael and Liz being science in laws: 132: “ I haven’t slept in four days… ”
Michael kicks off his pants in the middle of the floor and drops face-first into bed, groaning loudly as he sinks into the soft pillows. His whole body aches, his eyes itch like crazy, and he just wants to sleep. He reaches over and blindly grabs for Alex’s arm, pouting until he finds it and drags it over his waist. That taken care of, he starts nodding off, hoping the buzzing in his head will cease after he gets some sleep.
“Guerin,” Alex mumbles from behind him. “Michael,” he says again when Michael doesn’t respond.
It takes a considerable amount of effort, but Michael inhales deeply and grunts in response.
“That’s your phone.”
Michael makes a questioning sound, brain struggling to comprehend what his boyfriend just said. “What?”
Alex huffs into his shoulder and repeats, “Your phone. Make it stop.”
It takes him a solid thirty seconds to decipher what Alex said, and another thirty seconds to realize the buzzing in his head is, in fact, coming from the floor. It’s not his head pounding as the result of several days of sleeplessness. Too tired to get up, he reaches his hand out and yanks his jeans off the floor and onto the bed with his powers, digging in the pocket for his phone.
He squints at the screen, intending to turn it off, and sees he’s missed four calls from Liz in the last ten minutes. When it starts buzzing in his hand again, he answers it, pulling it up to his ear and closing his eyes. “What.”
“How did you make sure none of your uterus-having partners ever got knocked up with alien-human hybrid babies?”
Michael’s eyes pop open. Behind him, Alex jolts up onto his elbow with a, “What?”
Michael breathes deep and says, “I’m sorry, it’s three in the morning and I haven’t slept in four days. I thought you just asked me about--”
“Did you only use condoms, or was there always a backup, like a two-prong system? Did you figure out a way to test if traditional human methods of contraception were as effective in stopping alien sperm from fertilizing human eggs? Do you know if it’s even possible for humans to get pregnant by aliens?”
Michael looks over at Alex in bewilderment, able to see even in the dark that his boyfriend’s eyebrows are high up on his forehead in surprise. Michael shrugs and says, “Always condoms, sometimes two methods, no, and no.” He waits for Liz to respond, ask more questions, anything, but all he hears is her ragged breathing on the other end of the line. “Liz?”
She exhales shakily and says, “Since the honeymoon we’ve been a little...lax with using condoms. I’m on the pill, so I didn’t think it would matter, but I just woke up with the realization that maybe the pill isn’t as effective when your husband’s biology is not the same as yours.”
Michael sighs and sits up, massaging his forehead. He cannot believe he is having this conversation. With his sister-in-law. At three a.m. “When was your last period?”
Liz lets out a slow breath and says, “Last week.”
Michael nods and says, “Okay, and how many...incidents have there been since then, and when was the last one?” He grimaces; he does not want to even consider the fact that Max and Liz are having sex.
Liz’s breathing and tone are a lot more steady now that she’s got something to focus on. She says, “Just one, about four hours ago.”
Yuck. “Okay, that’s good. In the morning, go to CVS for Plan B. While you’re there, get another box or two of condoms to keep around, so you don’t forget again.”
“Okay.”
He nods again and lets out a slow breath, relieved she’s already sounding less panicked. Alex seems to hear it too, because he lays back down and closes his eyes, nodding when Michael says, “Tomorrow, I’ll start looking through the Shepherd files for answers on human-alien biological compatibility, and the next time we have a free day together, you and Kyle and I can start looking into alien-proof alternatives to the pill.”
“Okay. Thanks,” she breathes out. “Sorry I woke you up, I just...freaked out.” There’s a huff of self-deprecating laughter.
He shakes his head, starts running his fingers through Alex’s hair absentmindedly. “Did I help?”
Liz takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” she says softly.
“Then don’t be sorry. If I can help you feel better, it’s worth losing a little sleep.”
She’s quiet for a long moment before she sniffles and says, “You’re my favorite brother-in-law.” He has to fight the grin and the blush that crawls up his cheeks, until she continues, “Of course, Alex will take over that spot, whenever you get around to asking him to marry you, but for right now...”
Michael’s smile drops into a scowl and Alex snorts, hiding his laughter in Michael’s hip. “I hate you,” Michael says into the phone.
“Love you too, Mikey!” Liz says, and he hangs up on her laugh.
/
You have found my weakness, and it is the science-in-laws...
Feel free to send me more prompts, from this list or otherwise (just not the nsfw ones, I am so not good at the smut).
Ooo, Michael and Liz gen! How about a high school time stamp? Two AP kids both competing for valedictorian.
here ya go! i love these two sm
also on ao3
In the sixth grade, Liz Ortecho swears a solemn oath. She is going to vanquish Michael Guerin if it's the last thing she does. Standing there so smug with his first place science fair ribbon, with his stupid rocket. Anyone could make a stupid rocket. Liz absolutely does not spend the next month of her life obsessed with rocketry, striving with single-minded determination to outdo stupid Michael Guerin's extremely stupid first place project before deciding that rockets were so boring that only boring judges would like them and her efforts would be better spent on better things, like working her way through the rest of the Biology section at the library. Brains were her new favorite subject. Maybe if she understood them perfectly, she could engineer her own to never get beat by stupid Michael Guerin again. It doesn't help that Michael is apparently, suddenly best friends with Max Evans, so she sees him all the time now. And he always grins at her and goes "'sup, Ortecho?" like he knows exactly what he did. Vato. Let's see him be smug after Liz vanquishes him. It's the start of a truly epic feud. Rosa laughs at her for every extra hour she spends studying, every extra trip to the library, every time a perfect score on an assignment adds an extra strain of viciousness to her satisfaction. Rosa laughs even if it's kind of annoying to hear all about how stupid Michael Guerin thought that question 5 was C, HA. You'd think Rosa would have a better appreciation for the agonies and ecstasies of having an archnemesis.
On one of those extra trips to the library, Liz is deep into a plot to climb the shelves when no one’s looking when that hated voice says behind her:
“’Sup, Ortecho?”
And he plunks a stepping stool down in front of her. She glares at him. His face would look way better with a few extra holes in it.
Holding his hands up in surrender, he says: “What? I have to use it too to keep from killing myself by dropping forty pound textbooks on my head. Use the tools you’re given, okay?”
The worst thing about having an archnemesis? Sometimes they’re right.
Michael dug his hands deep into the earth, hoping to find some sort of hold in a world determined to spin him off its axis.
Alex was missing. And maybe, maybe he was just beyond this wall -- Micheal was ready to raise all hell to find out, and he felt so close -- but his powers were on the fritz, and the structure wasn’t budging.
Michael tried to blame the time he’d recently spent with the flowers, crafting jewelry for Maria.
But deep down he knew it was his love for Alex that had him out of control.
Michael felt practically feral, like an animal, but instead of trying to break out of a cage, he was trying to break in.
I’m coming, Alex.
-------------------------------
[This was for the “give me 1 sentence and I’ll write 5 more” game from about 6 weeks ago!]
Michael shrugged, “I know how to take a hint.”
He walked off, disappointment radiating from him with every step, and Alex couldn’t believe he’d fallen in love with the dumbest fucking genius on the whole goddamn planet.
Alex caught up with him before he got very far, a hand on his wrist stopping him in his tracks. Michael turned around, brow drawn tight in confusion, but Alex could see the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes.
“No, you don’t,” Alex said. That hope burned a little brighter when he pulled Michael close by the waist, one hand coming up to brush a curl behind his ear. “You really, really don’t,” he whispered, and when he brought their lips together for the first time in months, the tender sound of relief that Michael made against his mouth brought tears to his eyes.
Arturo Orteco adopts every stray kitten, broken bird, and discarded kid who stumbles into the Crashdown Cafe.
Oh this hit me right in the feels! I’m always down for Dadturo! Thanks for the prompt!
“Hey Arturo! Sorry, I didn’t know the sweet potatoes would take that long.”
“Mijo! It’s okay!”
“Mikey?” Liz asks and looks between her dad and Michael.
“Oh hey Liz. Didn’t know you’d be here.” Michael says sheepishly as he passes a tray to her dad.
“Yeah. Max and Isobel had a thing with their parents.” She waves her hands around. “What are you doing here?”
“He comes here every Christmas, Mija. Which you’d know if you ever came home.” Arturo says to her as he starts bringing the food to the table.
“What?” Liz asks like she didn’t hear him correctly.
“Uh yeah?” Michael rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve never really had anywhere to go so...”
“Sorry I’m late! Did I miss the carving?!” Alex shouts as he comes into the room. Liz looks around for someone to jump out and say this is all a joke as her dad smiles and hugs Alex.
“Alex! My boy. I didn’t think you were going to make it this year.” Arturo says as he shuffles Alex further into the dining room.
“Yeah I was able to get off base early.” Alex smiles and walks up to Michael. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
Michael kisses him softly. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”
“Alex? You come here too on Christmas?”
“Oh. Hey Liz. Yeah for dinner.”
“For how long?” Liz asks as Michael starts setting the table.
“Uh...since we graduated? I mean, if I could get leave.” Alex shrugs and starts helping her dad and Michael. She realizes that they know their way around and they all quickly set the table and plate the food.
“Sit.” Arturo pushes her towards the table. He just smiles at her. “Nobody should be alone on Christmas.”
Michael Guerin hoards food and he’s embarrassed about it especially since he actually has money now. But he can’t help himself. And of course Alex accidentally sits on his box of peanut butter crackers.
I wanted to just write a headcanon. Instead I wrote a ficlet. Go me!
warnings include: mentions of past child abuse, talk about personal fears
Some people stack papers, peeking out of books and shelves in their perfect houses in their perfect neighborhoods. Some people like Max gather books, and some people like Rosa collect pins and vinyls. Some people print tons of pictures and keep albums all around the rooms in their condos.
Some people never get over a childhood spent cooking meth and getting exorcised; some people never forget how it feels to be underfed and over-abused, in one way or another. Some people never move one from certain things, because the lack of love in the earlier years of someone’s life is decisive in that person’s development.
Michael Guerin never got over opening cabinets in shitty kitchenettes and finding them empty when all he wanted to ─ all he *needed* ─ was a bite after over twenty-four hours without eating anything.
At twenty-eight, he hoards every can he finds at the store that fits his budget, using up all the coupons he can find. He doesn’t know how to stop, and he tries not to run into anyone at the store when he goes grocery shopping, because he’s really ashamed of his tendencies. These days he has enough money to go shopping twice a week if he so much wanted to, and he can afford not to stock cans and cans of tomato soup underneath the bunk at the Airstream because there’s not enough space in the cabinets ─ he’s overflooded them with bags of pasta and rice, and he’s even hidden several boxes of peanut butter crackers underneath the pillow on the cot.
He knows his financial situation is way better now than it was years ago, while growing up, and that Isobel would kill him if she *thought* he’d had the need to hoard food, but he can’t help himself.
Also, he doesn’t expect anyone to be sharing his bed anytime soon. He’s been trying really hard to stay sober, and that means avoiding the Wild Pony and any other bars around town. Not drinking means no drunken flirting, and that means he’s been celibate for months now. On top of that, he doesn’t *want* to fall into bed with anyone, not after the fallout with Maria, not after realizing that he could build a strong relationship with Alex based on trust and *love*; because they love each other, they just don’t know how to live with that knowledge so they’re walking together the path to atonement.
They have been dating tentatively, just holding hands and going out together, kissing a bit but trying not to fall into old habits — which theyʼve done, five times. Not that Michael’s keeping a track record or anything.
The knock on his door startles him, forcing him to drop the box of crackers on the bed and covering it quickly with the sheets before opening the metallic door. “Alex,” he breathes out when he sees the other man standing outside his trailer.
“Hello, Guerin,” he greets as he steps inside, not waiting for an invitation — they’re way past the awkward beginnings when they didn’t know how to behave around each other.
“Did we have a date tonight?” Michael asks stupidly, wishing for Alex to forego the bed and sit on the chair. He has no such luck, and Alex chooses the same spot where Michael has hidden the box. He cringes when Alex sits down and crushed the package with a loud and telling *crack*.
If there’s something that Michael hates more than his dependence of food hoarding, is food going to waste.
“Alex,” he begins when the other man stands up and reaches underneath the sheets to grasp the ruined box with two shaky fingers.
“Do I want to know?” Alex asks, giving Michael a graceful way out that Michael, being the stubborn and oblivious alien that he is, ignores.
“I keep tons of non perishables everywhere,” he confesses. It feels like a weightʼs lifted off his shoulders. “I donʼt know why I keep doing so, but I just—”
“Itʼs okay,” Alex reaches out and hugs him, prying his hands off his curls. “I still sleep with the light on and the door locked when Iʼm alone at home.” He doesn’t elaborate; he doesn’t need to. They both know that, even now that Jesse Manes isn’t a threat anymore, Alex feels safer if he has every situation under control.
“Arenʼt you freaked out?”
“I would *never* be freaked out by you, sweetheart,” Alex promises. “I wasnʼt when I found out you were an alien Iʼm not going to start now. But if it bothers you, we can work it out. Together.”
“I would love that,” Michael agrees. “In one condition,” he asks.
“Which is?”
“You let me help you overcome your fears and demons as well.”
Alex smiles softly at him. “You know, there’s more space at the cabin for all of your cans,” he offers. “And I can compromise not to sleep with the light on if youʼre there with me every night.”
“Is that an invitation, Private?”
Alex drops a kiss on Michael’s hairline with a soft smile playing on his lips. “More like the next step.”
“Long overdue, in my opinion.”
“Guerin,” Alex warns him, amused. “What do you say?”
“It was about time, Private,” Michael laughs. “I thought youʼd never ask.”
Alex laughs with him before kissing him senseless, until both of them forget about the food hoarding and the sleeping with the light on and the ruined cracker boxes and the open doors.
Isobel flicked his ear and rolled her eyes dramatically.
@angsty-aliens I’m sorry I took this straight to the gutter, as per our previous conversations lol.
Isobel flicked Michael’s ear and rolled her eyes dramatically.
“Oh, honey,” she said, “don’t worry. No one ever saw you as a top anyway.”
Maria nodded sagely and Michael just shrugged, happy drunk for once and collapsed with his head in Isobel’s lap.
The booze had been flowing for everyone but Rosa, which was maybe why she had suggested a game of Never Have I Ever in the first place. That, and in many ways she was still very much 19 years-old. Alex had thought he was holding his liquor pretty well, but he maybe had overestimated his own sobriety just a tiny bit, because when his turn came around he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Which, as it turned out, was, “Never have I ever bottomed.”