(you said dealer choice, and bring on the cheese, so here you go love. ❤)
“Reyes, your man is here!”
Carlos looks up from his desk and the mountain of paperwork on it to find TK weaving through the desks, a flirty smile on his face as he makes his way over to him.
“Hi, sweetheart,” TK greets him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss before sitting on the edge of his desk. “I brought you dinner,” he says, handing him a brown paper bag.
Carlos smiles back at his boyfriend as his stomach rumbles, reminding him that the last meal he ate was before noon, and it’s close to eight pm now. “Thanks, baby,” he says gratefully, already taking out the container from the bag, stopping short when he sees what it is. “This is my mom’s red pozole,” he says with certainty, he can recognize his mother’s food out of a million dishes.
TK nods. “I was at the house helping her with that loose floorboard on the patio, and then stayed to have dinner with her. She asked I bring it to you.”
“You used your day off to help my mom?” he asks quietly.
“You said you were worried she would trip, but you’re not off for the next three days,” TK says like it’s no big deal, not realizing how his words cause Carlos’ heart to squeeze with affection. “And I was off today.”
“Thank you for helping her,” he says softly and with emotion. He watches as TK’s expression goes even softer as he starts to understand how much it means to Carlos.
“Well, we all know she’s my favorite Reyes, I gotta take care of her,” TK teases him, chuckling when Carlos pouts. He’s still laughing when Carlos pulls him into another kiss.
For @insidious-intent. Happy birthday!! 🎉 I’m really glad that you’re, like, six hours behind me, because this took me way too long to finish. I hope you like it!
“Michael?” Liz says when she picks up the phone.
Michael can hear the frown in her voice. They're friends, but Michael has never called her for anything that wasn't science or an emergency. He would have called Max, but he's been fighting the after-effect of exhausting his weak heart healing Alex for weeks, and he's usually too tired to pick up the phone.
“Movie and pizza night,” he says. “Tonight, at Alex's. You think Max can handle that?”
“Probably not,” Liz says. “He tried to work, again. He's passed out on his couch.”
“Damn,” Michael mutters.
“I think Rosa could use a breather, though. She invited?”
“Yeah, sure. You should come too, give yourself a night off caring for my idiot brother. Bring beers,” Michael orders.
“What's the occasion?”
“Alex is having a bad day, and Valenti turned out to be completely uneducated in the classics. We can't let that continue.”
There's a blank, then Liz clears her throat.
“I agree,” she says. “What are we watching?”
“Star Wars,” Michael answers. “We'll start with A New Hope and go on until we fall asleep.”
“Kyle has never watched Star Wars? Isn't that a crime?”
“Alex says it's not, but we could double check,” Michael joins in on the banter with a smile.
“What's wrong with Alex?” Liz asks more quietly.
“He...fell, and then he tried to walk with his prosthesis when he shouldn't have. It's nothing life-threatening, but he's in pain and he's been stuck at home for two days, so he could use a pick-me-up.”
“Of course. Rosa and I will be here. Have you asked Maria yet?”
Michael sighs, leaning on the hood of his car. “Rosa's coming. Maria still won't speak to me, and things aren't comfortable between her and Alex.”
“I get that, but they're friends, they should make things up−wait, Alex doesn't know you're inviting us?”
“I have...” Michael looks at his watch, “about two hours to tell him. I'm still at work, Sanders needed me today. I'm about to head to his place. I don't think Maria's a good idea today.”
“Fine,” Liz sighs. “I'll text Rosa, see if she needs me to pick her up. See you tonight.”
“Thanks,” Michael manages to get out before she hangs up.
*
“Alex!” Michael calls when he opens the door of the house with his key. Alex was on the couch when he left this morning, but he's not there anymore.
“Bathroom!” Alex calls back.
Michael finds him standing by his medicine cabinet in the bathroom, both crutches in one hand, the other rummaging through pill bottles.
“What are you looking for?” he asks, coming up behind him.
“Back up painkillers,” Alex says, just turning his head enough to give him a strained smile. “Can't seem to find them.”
Michael frowns. He was careful to leave Alex with everything he might need on hand, this morning, including his regular bottle of painkillers. If he needs the back up one, it means he's maxed out and he's still in pain, which is not good news.
“Let me,” Michael says.
Alex hops back to let him come closer. “Thanks,” he says, sounding relieved.
Given Alex's usual fierce independence, Michael frowns at that too. “Here,” he says, picking out a pill bottle out of the half-dozen in the cabinet.
“Thank you,” Alex repeats. “Sorry, the pain's making me fuzzy.”
“Come on,” Michael prompts him to start his way back to the living room. “I'll get you some water.”
Alex nods and gets situated on his crutches. His gait is only slightly less graceful than usual−Michael is always impressed at how comfortable Alex is with crutches. It makes sense, of course, given how long he had to use them before his stump was healed enough for the prosthetic, and then while he trained himself to walk with it, but Michael wasn't there to see it. Michael missed a lot of Alex's life.
There's already a glass and a pitcher on the coffee table that Michael left there this morning, so he pours Alex some water before he goes to sit. Alex lowers himself carefully onto his favorite armchair.
“How are you feeling?” Michael asks.
“Been better,” Alex admits. “Today was pretty bad. But I'll be okay.”
“I know, you've been telling me that non-stop for two days. You know you're not the one supposed to be comforting me, right?”
“You worry too much.”
Michael just raises an eyebrow at the pill in Alex's hand, which he puts in his mouth and swallows. “So I was wrong to worry that you were running around the day after your−”
“No, you weren't, okay?” Alex rolls his eyes. “I know I shouldn't have. Can you please let it go?”
Michael backs off and sighs. Alex is definitely more irritable than usual, probably because of the pain and fatigue. The events of the last few days−last few months−have taken their toll. If he's honest, Michael is tired too.
It's been nearly four weeks since Alex rescued himself from the hands of Deep Sky, after eight days of frantic searching on Michael's part−and promptly passed out on them, with a bullet still lodged in his liver. Max just managed to stop the internal bleeding and start to close the wound before overloading his pacemaker, and he's been paying the price since.
Alex himself has been...fine. Too fine, if you ask Michael. He recovered quickly from the hole in his stomach, and the myriad other wounds sustained at the hands of the captors he still refuses to talk about. Michael, after breaking up with Maria loudly and messily on day two of Alex's captivity, came over multiple times a day to bring him food and make sure he was okay, and they settled into a comfortable routine. Up until three days ago, when Alex was supposed to go back to work and tried to take his new prosthesis−which, by some miracle, he managed to hold onto−outside the house without the support of a crutch, and he fell on his face on the pavement.
Michael only gets glimpses of what's under the surface, what Alex looks like when he's not trying to put up a facade.
They're all at the end of their rope, and that's why Michael decided that a movie night would do them good, now that things finally look like they're settling a bit. Which reminds him, he still needs to tell Alex. He texted Isobel on his way to the house, and Valenti was the first he told earlier, so Alex is the only one who doesn't know yet.
“I invited everyone over,” Michael says, when the lines of pain on Alex's face have softened a bit under the effect of the strong painkiller.
Alex raises an eyebrow. “Um, you know it's my house, right?”
“Yup,” Michael responds without missing a beat. “But you have a projector. Movie night at the Airstream wouldn't be much fun.”
“Right,” Alex rolls his eyes. “Who's everyone?”
There's a guardedness in his eyes that tells Michael he was right. “Valenti, Iz, Liz and Rosa,” he answers. “Max is too tired.”
“Still?”
“He keeps pushing himself to far,” Michael shrugs. “Just can't take a break. Reminds me of someone.”
“I take breaks,” Alex grumbles.
“I know,” Michael admits with a smile. “You're actually pretty good at taking care of yourself. This was just shitty luck.”
“Seems like a streak.”
“We've all had a rough time of it lately, haven't we?”
Alex gives him a long look. “Yeah,” he says after a moment.
“Anyway, we're watching Star Wars,” Michael deliberately changes the subject.
Alex raises an eyebrow. “Kyle?”
“I can't condone that level of ignorance anymore.”
“I thought I was the nerd and you were the genius.”
“Well yeah, but there's a limit to what even I can stand!” Michael throws up his hand.
“I find it rather endearing most of the time,” Alex smirks.
“Kyle, Alex? Really? You find him endearing?”
Michael meant it as a joke, but Alex closes off immediately, looking away. Since Forrest Long turned out to be part of Deep Sky, anything related to Alex's love life or sexuality has been a touchy subject. Especially with Michael. Or, at least, Michael thinks so, because he hasn't heard Alex talk about it with anyone else.
“Sorry,” Michael murmurs. They'll need to really talk, at some point. He's been telling himself that every day since they got Alex back, but there never seems to be a good time. Alex neatly side-steps every hook Michael tries to give him.
Not that he tries very hard. Alex has been letting him help, and he's terrified that if they talk, Alex will shut him out again. It's been a pattern with them, Michael pushing him away every time they have a deep conversation, Alex running.
Why can't it ever be simple?
“Have you at least bought food?” Alex asks after he's been silent for a while. “You won't feed six people off what's in my fridge.”
“Iz and Valenti are bringing some, and I grabbed a couple frozen pizzas,” Michael answers. “I'll get the projector up.”
Alex nods and sits back, letting the painkiller haze overtake him.
*
Isobel carefully balances the quiche and the salad she made in her arms, with just a touch of telekinesis−not enough that the neighbors could notice, but that salad bowl is heavy−and deliberately slams the door of her car. Anything to avoid catching her brother and his whatever-Alex-is-these-days in a compromising position. She doesn't need the scars in her mind.
The only car already there is Michael's truck, so she's the first to show up. Alex's car was found at the bottom of a ravine in the desert, shortly after he went missing, and he's had other priorities than getting a replacement.
“Iz!” Michael greets her at the door. “And food! That's good.”
He takes the salad bowl from her and waves her in. Isobel has been here a few times, since Alex got back. She helped Michael with food runs when Alex was completely laid up the first week, and then she came back to visit. Her and Alex's friendship is building itself out of snarky comebacks and tips on how to control panic attacks, whenever they get a chance to talk outside of Michael's influence.
“Isobel,” Alex nods at her from his armchair, with a small smile. He doesn't stand up to greet her, and he looks a little spaced out, which Isobel has come to learn is due to his strong painkillers.
“Alex,” she answers in the same tone. Michael takes the quiche from her hands to put it in the fridge. “I'd say thank you for inviting me, but I have the feeling that you didn't have a say in the matter.”
Alex snorts. “Your feeling is accurate. It's still nice to see you, though.” He gestures for her to sit down on the couch.
“You look like shit,” she says. Michael glares daggers at her, coming into the living room, but Alex just laughs. Good. He wouldn't appreciate her putting on gloves.
“Your jacket is absolutely fascinating,” Alex sends back after a beat long enough to show that his brain functions are slowed by the medication. The pill bottle is still on the coffee table, beside his laptop. “It looks exactly like my grandmother's carpet.” His eyes are clear and full of mirth, though. “I puked all over it when I was about six months old.”
Isobel theatrically shivers and pulls the jacket tighter around her. “I'll thank you not to do the same to this very nice pricey jacket.”
She doesn't push more to know how Alex is doing. Michael gave her the relevant facts earlier, and she has no doubt Kyle will certain Alex is okay. It's not her job. Her job is to be a friend, and today what Alex needs is a distraction.
Kyle, Liz and Rosa trickle in within a few minutes of each other. Michael makes a show of opening beer bottles with his minds, several at a time and while levitating them. Isobel resists stealing one of the bottles from him and emptying it on his head, and she's rewarded by one of his beautiful, proud smiles. Michael has been much happier since he broke up with Maria and spends time with Alex.
“Have you two at least talked?” Isobel asks him in the kitchen, where he's helping her get plates for everyone and slicing the quiche.
“No,” Michael shrugs. “Didn't get a chance.”
“That excuse stopped flying three weeks ago, Michael,” Isobel gently scolds him. “Don't let it get out of hands.”
“It's just… We've never had a quiet moment before. Just a time where we could be ourselves and hang out without it being complicated. I don't want to break the spell.”
“This can't last forever. He still hasn't said anything about his kidnapping?”
“No more than he said the first day,” Michael sighs. “I'm sure he gave us all the relevant information, but he won't talk about what they did to him.”
“And he still won't go to therapy?”
Michael bites his lip. “I haven't asked him again.”
Isobel closes her eyes. “Okay. I won't tell you what to do, Michael. I don't know any better than you. Just...try.”
“The pizzas are ready,” Michael gestures to the oven. He grabs mittens to take them out, ignoring Isobel entirely.
They walk back into the living room to Kyle trying to examine Alex, and Alex resisting him. He has a guarded look on his face that wasn't there around just Isobel earlier. Liz and Rosa are watching warily, which is probably irritating Alex even more. He hates his vulnerabilities being made into a spectacle.
“Did you at least see a doctor?” Kyle presses.
“I know how to handle myself, Kyle,” Alex snaps.
“Will you let me have a look?”
“I'm fine.”
Kyle raises an eyebrow. “Clearly.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Okay, maybe not fine, but I know what's wrong. I don't need you poking at me.”
“I'm just trying to help,” Kyle huffs.
“Then stop fussing,” Alex says, firm and definitive. “Please,” he adds to mitigate the harshness of his tone.
Kyle throws up his hands. “Okay, okay. I'll stop.” He doesn't look happy about it, but he takes a step back.
“Shall we start that movie?” Isobel asks, louder than really necessary. “The food is ready, and we have popcorn for later.”
“Yeah, let's do this,” Rosa says. “I can't believe I'm still more up to date with pop culture than you, bro.”
Kyle grumbles something indistinguishable, and Rosa punches him in the arm.
Alex reaches down for one of his crutches and slowly stands up. “Isobel?” he asks, when he sees that Michael has his hands full with plates and salad. Isobel is lost for a second, and he gestures the the armchair. Right. She concentrates and moves it around, turning it until it's facing the large white sheet Michael installed in front of the TV. Alex follows the move and drops back into it, not bothering to pretend that he has the energy for more than that.
Michael takes the piano bench, and Liz, Rosa and Kyle squeeze together on the couch, leaving Isobel to drag a chair over from the table for herself. They keep teasing Kyle for his lack of culture, and Isobel suddenly remembers that the last time she watched this movie, it was with Noah. She shudders.
As the familiar Star Wars credits roll out, Isobel looks around her, wondering if these people ever feel as old as she does. They don't, she realizes. Somehow, for most of them, it's like time froze the day Rosa died.
She looks at Rosa, nineteen and rebellious, so young and yet sometimes so mature she leaves them all speechless. Michael and Max don't reach her level of understanding of the world, half the time. They're still in a bubble, believing in true love you don't have to work at and black and white justice and freedom. Three aliens against the world. Only Isobel doesn't feel like that anymore. She hasn't for a long time.
Isobel grew with Noah. Despite his monstrosity, they grew together, as husband and wife. Isobel became an adult, while her brothers stayed stuck at seventeen. And now, discovering all the lies, she feels like she aged ten years in a few months. Maybe she did. Maybe the six weeks she missed while in the pod were actually years. Would they even tell her?
Out of the humans who actually left, Kyle has been out of med school for all of two years, and Liz is barely out of her PhD. They're still kids. Not as stuck in time as Michael and Max, maybe, but so damn young.
But not Alex. In Alex's eyes, Isobel can see the same weariness that she feels. There's more, even. A sadness of someone who was forced to grow too fast, and to see too much. Alex has spent the last ten years at war, and none of the others seem to truly realize that. They remember the boy who wore eyeliner just to spite his father, and they still expect him to act the same.
She stands up brutally. “I'll−I'll be back in a minute,” she mumble when all the heads turn toward her. Michael gives her a concerned glance, but she shakes her head. Biting her tongue, she heads for the kitchen.
It takes her a while to breathe through the knot in her throat. She pours herself a glass of water, and sits at the table, trying to block out the voices from the next room. It will be six months soon, since Noah's death. She still doesn't feel like she has a grip on things.
“Isobel?”
Isobel looks up, startled. She doesn't know how she didn't hear Alex coming, on his crutches and looking barely stable enough to stand. She telekinetically pulls out a chair for him, and he takes it gratefully.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, keeping her head down. She has no hope of hiding her breathlessness and her red eyes, but it doesn't mean she won't try.
“Same as you, I assume,” Alex shrugs, leaning his crutches against the table. “Needed a breather.”
“Noah...we watched a lot of movies together. It was our thing. Date night. He always...he always found movies that didn't portray aliens as the enemy.”
“Rings differently now?” Alex offers.
“Yeah.”
“I used to watch movies with Karl,” Alex says, looking down at his hands. “He was, uh, a guy I dated on and off for a couple of years. He was this huge nerd, a history buff. That's why I liked Forrest so much, I think, he reminded me of Karl.” He tenses at the mention of Forrest. It's still a sore spot, that this man was a plant−a mostly innocent one, barely aware of what he was involved into, but still a plant.
“Where is he now?” Isobel asks. She's never heard him mention Karl before.
Alex closes his eyes and shakes his head. “He died. Saved my life,” he nods toward his leg. “But he didn't make it.”
Fuck. “I'm sorry,” Isobel murmurs.
“I'm sorry too,” Alex says, looking up at her. “About Noah. All you went through.”
Isobel nods. “Let's not list all the things we're sorry about, okay?” she says, her voice brittle.
“Yeah. We might need more than one night for that,” Alex replies.
“You guys okay?” Michael's voice filters through the half-opened door. He pokes his head through, and frowns in concern.
“We're fine,” Isobel says forcefully. “Just talking. We both know the movie by heart anyway.”
“Okay,” Michael backs off. He knows what to do when faced with this tone of voice, she's trained him well. “Just call if you need anything, okay?”
Isobel nods and makes a shoo motion. Alex hasn't even turned toward the door, frozen in place.
“You need to talk to him,” she says softly.
“I know,” Alex sighs. “It's just...just before I was taken, we had an argument. I mean, it's nothing unusual for us, but...I said things.”
“You think he's still angry with you?”
“Maybe. It was about my father, and I was wrong about him anyway. I still can't...I can't wrap my head around the fact that Michael went to him. That he put you all in danger for−” he trails off.
“For you?” Isobel asks. “Alex, don't you know yet that Michael would do anything to save you?”
“I wish he wouldn't. If you guys get captured, if you're discovered… I'm not worth that.”
Isobel shifts. “Of course you are. You're worth the risk, at least. You all are. Would you say the same thing about Liz, or Rosa?”
Alex shrugs.
“Or is it just you? You think you're not worth the trouble?” Isobel doesn't wait for him to answer, his face is enough. “You're worth that and so much more, Alex. To Michael, to me, even to Max. I think we've been making you feel like we only care because you bring us information and resources, but it's not true.”
Alex crosses his arms against his chest, hugging himself. “My family did so much harm to yours,” he says.
“Humans tortured and killed our kind. Humans took in my mother and took care of her. Noah was an alien, and he killed humans and abused me. Your father is a human and he abused you. It doesn't make a difference, Alex. You may be a Manes, but these men aren't you. You matter to us. You matter so much to Michael.”
“I'll talk to him,” Alex sighs. “It's...I don't want the status quo to end. I don't want us to go back to before.”
“You mean you don't want him to go back to Maria. I don't think he will,” Isobel says.
“I don't want him to go back to blaming me,” Alex admits.
“He was so scared while you were gone. I've never seen him this frantic.”
Alex shakes his head. “But that's the problem, isn't it? All I do is cause him pain.”
Isobel rolls her eyes. “Is that what you take away from it? He loves you, Alex.”
“He didn't think it was worth the pain. I don't think it's worth his pain.”
“Of course it fucking is! You love each other. You trust each other. Neither of you is a lying body-snatching serial-killer. Just take it, Alex. You have a real shot at happiness together. That's worth everything.”
Isobel only realizes that she's raised her voice when she looks up to see Alex staring at her, mouth hanging open, and Michael at the door looking alarmed.
“Um,” she bites her tongue. “Sorry, got carried away. But you two have got to talk.”
Michael drops heavily onto a chair. “Wow. I didn't know you felt that way,” he tells Isobel.
“I didn't mean for you to hear that,” Isobel start. “No, actually, I'm glad you did. You're going to talk, right now, while I go watch the end of the movie.”
“Isobel−” Alex starts, raising his hand, but she's already at the door.
“Talk,” she orders, closing the door behind her. “Or do I have to lock you in?”
“I can pick locks with my brain!” Michael calls after her.
“Well, pick this one!” Isobel shouts back, blocking the door with her powers. She's fairly sure that Michael could overpower her if he wanted to, but he doesn't try.
She steals Alex's armchair, since he won't need it for now, and very deliberately starts eating under Kyle, Liz and Rosa's dumbfounded looks. “Did you just lock them in?” Rosa asks.
When Alex and Michael come out of the kitchen, halfway through the second Star Wars movie, they looks exhausted and their eyes are red-rimmed, but there's no mistaking the relieved look on their face. Or how swollen their lips are. Isobel shoos Kyle and Rosa away to make space for them on the couch, and takes a celebratory sip of her beer.
february: have you ever written and/or a holiday-centric fic?
I have! In 2019, I wrote a fluffy Christmas Eve Malex fic called Make the Yuletide Gay
ancient: the first fic you ever posted online?
The first fic I posted online (according to my AO3) was a Silverflint fic called Times Have Changed, set sometime during season 3 that focuses on Flint and Vane’s new partnership
calendar: do you have a schedule for posting?
I wish! Nah, I basically just write what I vibe with in the moment and only set deadlines for myself when it’s been a truly obnoxious time since I started a project and I just NEED to finish it or else I’ll go crazy
14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context.
“I'd choose you every single time. I can't find it in me to be upset when I get to be here on a date with you.”
17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.
I saw an angsty soulmates prompt that I want to write for Malex eventually. It involves needing semi-regular physical contact with a soulmate. And I wanted to focus on Michael trying to move on and Alex encouraging him to because he thinks it’s what’s best for Michael, even though he knows it’ll end up killing him.
20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!
So many (and I’m sure I’m going to forget some). I’m just going to focus on those who have written in the rnm fandom, or this is going to get longer and messier. @beamirang, @hannah-writes, @usbournejez, @andrea-lyn, @spaceskam, @lire-casander, @prouvaireafterdark, @laniew1, @stydiaeverafter, @bellakitse, @i-never-look-away, @sabrinachill, @saadiestuff, @irolltwenties, @unbreakablejemmasimmons, @lambourngb, @winged-fool, @queersirius, @dancinbutterfly, and, of course, you, @insidious-intent.
Alex hates the snow - so of course there's already 2 feet on the ground and more on its way.
But it’s the smell of rain that fills his nostrils when Michael’s warm body nestles up against his back, chin resting on Alex’s shoulder as he presses a cup of hot chocolate into Alex’s hand.
“Snow,” Michael says solemnly in silent solidarity with Alex’s dislike for it.
As children, for both of them snow had been something that put a time limit on their outdoor escapes from houses of horrors.
A lot has changed.
As Alex sips his drink, Michael purring in his ear, he decides that the snow-covered trees look pretty.
