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Chapter Text

It had taken a long time but Alex liked to think that he knew Michael Guerin pretty well by now.

When they were teens, he had memorized every line and curve of Michael's body, the taste of his lips against his own, knew him inside and out, had mapped the scars and freckles and moles on his back like constellations. As adults, though their relationship had been fractured, he had really begun to learn what made him tick. Started to understand that the anger and bitterness and cowboy swagger, while justified, was mostly a facade. He started bar fights because he thought he deserved the pain. He didn't let anybody close to him because he couldn't stand getting hurt. He lived in a trailer in the middle of nowhere because he felt feral and undomesticated compared to the rest of Roswell. He only (barely) got along with Max and Isobel because they were family and shared a mental link and genetics and-

But they were adults now. He'd begun to see a different part of Michael that he had never been allowed to see before. Michael was, surprisingly, an incredibly good cook. He fixed things around Alex's house because he wanted to be useful and so he always had something to do with his hands. He was not an early riser, and could probably sleep late into the afternoon if Alex let him. He took up a surprisingly little amount of space in the bed, both from sleeping for years in that tiny bed in his Airstream and probably, leftover habits from wanting to take up as little space as possible in foster homes. He ran hot, which Alex knew but it was a different story when he was sharing a bed with him most nights- by now, Alex had learned to go to bed wearing fewer clothes than usual on the nights Michael was staying over, just to overcompensate. 

So, yeah- Alex liked to think that he knew Michael a lot better than some people did.

Which was how, when Alex emerged from his shower in the morning to see Michael awake and already in the kitchen, frowning down at his phone, he knew that something was wrong. 

Instead of announcing his presence, Alex crossed to the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Michael from behind, pressing his face into his skin. Michael instinctually stiffened up at the unexpected contact before he relaxed with a contented sigh. "Morning."

"Hey," Michael reached up and rested a hand on Alex's. "How'd you sleep?"

Humming, Alex breathed Michael in. He smelled of rain and car grease and coffee. "What's the matter?"

"What makes you think that anything is wrong?" Michael pulled away but didn't go far. He passed Alex a cup of steaming coffee sitting on the counter. 

Accepting the steaming cup gratefully, Alex couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Michael's poor attempt at misdirection. "You mean other than the fact that you're awake so early even though today is your day off? You're practically vibrating with nerves. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say that you were about to do something reckless and impulsive without thinking it through."

Chuckling, Michael ducked his head and Alex knew that he could read him like a book. "Would it make you feel better to know that I'm probably overthinking it?"

Though Alex was enjoying the warmth of the mug in his hands, he set it down on the counter in favour of pulling Michael flush against him by his hands in his belt. Michael was smiling, but there was something nervous and uncertain in his eyes, and his phone was vibrating continuously on the kitchen counter. Alex might not have genius-level intellect like Michael, but he was smart enough to put two and two together.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked again, earnest now. When Michael shook his head, Alex shook him by the belt. "Come on, I don't care how stupid you think it is. It's bothering you, so I want to hear about it."

For a moment, he was worried that Michael wasn't going to answer and would insist that they drop the subject. And maybe, at some point in the past, he would have. But instead, he took a deep breath and ducked his head down until he could rest against Alex's shoulder, releasing the breath into the fabric of his shirt. "Ann Evans is coming into town today and Max and Isobel want me to meet the three of them for lunch."

Taken aback, Alex thought about that as he felt Michael's arms tighten around him and hold him close, Alex's hand instinctually gravitating upwards until he would wind his finger in his curls. "Oh,"

Though Alex had never met Ann Evans, he knew enough about her to not be her biggest fan. She had adopted Max and Isobel and left Michael behind at the group home. She had always thought that he was filthy and feral and tried to limit the time her children spent with him. She claimed he was a 'special child' who needed parents who could provide him with a 'firm hand' and who had 'extra love in their hearts' and then acted standoffish and vindictive whenever they met as adults because she never liked the fact that Max and Isobel called Michael their brother.

He knew that Michael was keenly aware of that as well, and suddenly, the thought of him facing that all alone was almost too much for Alex to bear.

"I can come with you?" Alex offered before he could really think about it. The words felt natural, right. "If you want."

Michael pulled back just far enough to straighten up and look down into Alex's eyes, his whole face lightening up with surprise and hope. "You'd do that?"

"Of course," Alex couldn't help but laugh at Michael's puppy-dog eagerness. "We're a team now, right? We stick together."

"It isn't a mission to prevent the end of the world, Manes," Michael's eyes twinkled with laughter as he reached up to cup the sides of Alex's face with his big, warm hands, calloused from working with tools and tanned from being out in the sun for hours on end. "It's just lunch."

"Hey, we've faced my father, and defeated your father," Alex moved his hand from Michael's hips so he could punctuate every word with a poke to Michael's bare chest. "Now we've just got to face one more lousy parent, and thankfully it's Max and Isobel's turn."

"Holy fuck," Michael breathed, pupils blown wide and mouth slightly agape with wonder, voice softly spoken as if in reverence, like a congregation with heads bent in prayer, and he smoothed his thumbs over Alex's cheekbones. "I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

They hadn't quite reached the 'I love you' state of their relationship yet, but if Alex had any doubts that Michael's hushed words in the safety of their kitchen were anything less than a declaration of love, then the kiss that followed immediately after dissuaded any doubts. 

Chapter Text

When Michael pulled into the Crashdown's car park, his nerves had returned in full force. He was gnawing at his bottom lip, his foot tapping erratically, and his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. All anxious traits that Alex knew rather well after all these years. And how the hell could Alex blame him? Michael was so brave in this moment, about to have lunch with the woman directly if unknowingly reasonable for his shitty childhood, and was willing to push away any discomfort he was feeling just to make Max and Isobel happy. And he had been willing to come alone if Alex hadn't invited himself along.

"Hey," Alex placed a hand on Michael's thigh, trying to bring him back to the here and now. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Sighing, Michael's eyes tracked the movement of Max and Isobel through the Crashdown's windows. "I would really rather be anywhere else but here," he admitted. "I don't want to do this."

"I know. But we're already here, right? We've come all this way, we might as well go in," Alex reasoned. "And we don't have to stay long. We can leave anytime. You don't owe anybody anything."

Eventually, Alex managed to coax a very reluctant Michael out of the truck, who promptly hid himself behind the wide brim of his hat and made his way towards the Crashdown with his hands in his pockets. His tension was palpable and Alex felt his own shoulders rise and fall as he followed after him.

As expected, Max and Isobel were pacing anxiously in the empty diner. Their eyes lit up when they entered and the door swung shut behind them. "You made it," Isobel threw her arms around Michael's neck and kissed him on the cheek. "We were worried you were going to ditch us."

"Almost did," Michael admitted. "Still might."

"I hope you guys don't mind me tagging along," Alex apologised as he shook Max's hand. "Just couldn't resist crashing your little party."

Shaking his head, Max laughed. Out of all the siblings, Max seemed the most serious, at least around Alex. His whole face lit up when he laughed, and for a split second, Alex could almost believe that Max, Isobel and Michael really were flesh-and-blood triplets. "No way, I would have invited Liz if she weren't so busy. It's probably for the best that you're here, actually. You can be the mediator."

"He means the voice of reason," Isobel brushed her hand against Alex's arm as she passed him to slide into a booth. "It wouldn't be an Evans family reunion if there wasn't a last one heated argument."

"I have a strong feeling that today's argument will involve me as the main topic of contention," Michael muttered as he joined the others in the booth. "Why did you want me to come here again?"

"Because no matter what anybody says, whether it be our parents or the public or otherwise, you are our brother," Max said. "And we want you with us. Family reunion- that includes you. It always includes you."

When Michael turned to face Alex, his face was conflicted, but Alex knew that Michael had been given the final push he needed and that he had made up his mind to stay. "I'm glad that I brought you along for moral support." 

It made his chest feel warm, and a smile spread across his face without his say-so. "So today, I am the voice of reason, the mediator, and moral support," he mused, reaching up to fist a gentle hand in Michael's curls. Michael hummed and ducked towards the contact. "I've endured worse."

When Ann Evans entered, the change in the room was palpable. She wore a smart forest green pant-suit with her hair tied in a bun. She glanced wearily around the empty diner before her eyes settled on her children and she grinned. It immediately made her whole face look younger, less severe. "Max! Isobel! How nice to see you!"

They rose to meet her, both taking turns to fall into her embrace. "Hey mum," Isobel hummed when her mother stroked her fingers through her hair. "You look nice."

"Well, I had assumed that we were going to go out somewhere nice," Ann said as she pulled away. "If I had known that we would have been meeting at a diner, I would have dressed down."

"Mum," Max laughed, slightly admonishing. "This is Liz's family business. There's no better place for us to meet."

"If you want to chat over alcohol while you play billiards and poker, you go to the Wild Pony," Michael piped up. "If you want a wholesome place to chat with family over food, you come to the Crashdown. It's probably one of the best eateries in Roswell."

As Ann sat down beside her children, she looked at Michael with a frown at the corners of her lips. "Michael. I didn't know that you'd be coming to the family meeting," Max and Isobel exchanged a wary glance. Michael just hummed, noncommittally. When Ann turned to face Alex, it was obvious that she bristled. "And you are...?"

"Alex Manes, ma'am," Alex said pleasantly, dutifully shaking her hand. Compared to her children, who ran hot enough to rival a central heating system on the highest setting in winter, her skin was chilled to the touch. "Nice to meet you."

Her eyes sparkled with recognition, and he hated that he knew who she was thinking of. "Oh, Manes, of course," she said and Michael's hand tightened slightly on Alex's under the table. "I remember seeing your family around town before they all enlisted. I don't think I remember you, though. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence at my family's gathering?"

"No need for such formalities. Just because I served doesn't make me God," Alex forced himself to laugh. "I'm here because I'm Michael's boyfriend, and I've tagged along to meet the woman who raised his siblings."

He was intentionally baiting her, wanting to see how she'd react. To his surprise, she pursed her lips and didn't say another word about it, probably sensing that Max and Isobel would most likely pick up a well-versed argument if she refuted it. Instead, she reached across the table until she could hold one of her children's hands in her own, and smiled. "So," she asked. "How have your lives been?"

It was actually rather pleasant, much to Alex's surprise. The way Michael had described it, he thought that Ann would be tearing into him the entire time that they were there. He was surprised that she hardly paid them any mind at all.

Instead, Ann alternated between chatting with Max and Isobel, each taking great joy in telling their mother, in extensive detail, exactly what they had been up to since they last saw each other. Alex, for his part, alternated between holding Michael's hand under the table, smoothing his thumb over the once scarred and gnarled skin of his left in what he hoped was a comforting, supportive gesture, and resting a hand on Michael's knee to stop his anxiously bouncing leg when it caused the table to shake and made Ann glance at him in annoyance while Max and Isobel looked on in worry.

Outero brought out the food, knowing them well enough by now to know their orders off by heart, while bringing out something generic for Ann, flashing his award-winning smile all the while. Isobel got up to help him carry the plates over, much to Ann's surprise and confusion, while Max took the opportunity to properly introduce Outero to Ann. Alex thought it was strange that it had taken this long for the two of them to meet, but it had taken decades for him to find the courage to hold Michael's hand in public, so who was he to judge?

Despite the circumstances, it was nice to spend this time with Michael. He could almost imagine that this was just a usual date, drinking milkshakes and holding hands under the table and just enjoying each other's company.

That was, until, Ann finally turned her attention to Michael. And Michael, who had finally begun to relax, tensed right back up. 

"So, Michael," Ann said, voice sickly sweet and thick like molasses. "What have you been up to recently?"

Licking his lips, Michael lowered his fry away from his mouth and back down to his plate, and then forced his hands to remain in loosely curled fists on the tabletop. "Not much. Living life as best I can."

"Are you still living in that trailer in the junkyard?"

"Sometimes. When I feel like it."

"And where are you working these days?" She asked innocently. Alex wasn't sure why it made him bristle, but it did. There was something fake about it as if she already knew the answer and had already formed an opinion about it.

Beside him, Michael shifted near-imperceptibly in his seat, but Alex felt him, flush against his side. "Sanders Auto."

Something strange fluttered across Ann's face that Alex couldn't identify before it was gone again. "Still? I thought that was only a temporary thing until you found something more permanent."

"Nope," Michael popped the 'p'. "I'm happy where I am. What's the saying? If you love what you do, then you'll never have to work a day in your life? Think of it like that."

"He's the best mechanic in Roswell," Max grinned, nudging his shoulder against Michael. "He can fix anything and everything that you put in front of him."

"That's quite a talent," Ann said, sounding like she didn't quite believe it. "Wouldn't you like to be putting that to good use instead of fixing cars?"

"Well, becoming an agricultural engineer meant leaving Max and Isobel, and I couldn't leave them behind to fend for themselves. They were like helpless baby birds without me to babysit," Michael said. Max laughed at Isobel's answering scowl. "Besides, UMN wasn't really my scene."

Ann's eyebrows climbed into her hairline as they rose in disbelief. "You got into UMN? I never knew that."

Humming, Michael plucked a fry from his plate and stuck it between his teeth. He spoke around a mouthful of food. "A little-known fact about me- I'm a literal genius."

Isobel laughed and threw a fry at him. "It wouldn't hurt you to be a little more humble, you know."

"It's nothing you don't already know," Michael retorted, seeing out her feet under the table and aiming a kick at her legs. "Liz and I have saved both your asses plenty of times with our combined genius. In the words of the one and only Liz Ortecho; we're a force to be reckoned with."

Alex knew that he and the three aliens were all thinking of the same moments; Liz and Michael working tirelessly to find a cure for Isobel; Michael furiously working on building a pace-maker out of alien glass and spare parts for a once-dead then-dying Max while Liz cut him open and inserted it into Max's chest. No one was more aware of how unstoppable Liz and Michael were together than the three people closest to them at this table.

When Ann's discerning eyes fell solely on Alex, he couldn't help but shift a little in his seat. Now he knew where Max got it from. "So, you and Michael are living together now? What's that like?"

The question was addressed to him, so Alex answered for both of them. "Partly. It's been pretty easy so far. We've always worked well together, always existing somehow in each other's space. It's as simple as breathing. It's like we're..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

As he always did, Michael filled in the blanks. "Cosmic?" he snorted. "Pieces that always find their way back together?"

He was so earnest that Alex couldn't help but laugh and fling his arm across Michael's shoulders, a rare public display of affection in front of a relative stranger. "Damn straight."

The feeling of a foot knocking gently against his own had Alex looking up to see Isobel examining him with a fond look and a grin. "Get a room, you two. You're both such saps."

Though her words were harmless and full of love, Alex couldn't help but stiffen. There were so many underlying connotations beneath her words if one were to search for them. He wanted to see if Michael would react the way he normally did, with anger and offence. But Michael didn't react, other than to scrunch up his nose and throw a fry at his sister.

"Behave," Max warned as Isobel scrambled to retaliate, but he was smiling.

Ann cleared her throat and the jovial atmosphere faded back into relative seriousness. She returned her attention back to Michael. "I'm very glad to hear it."

"Thanks," Michael said. "It's been-"

"It's a far cry from what you used to be doing," Ann focused down at the tea in her hands, stirring it daintily with a teaspoon. "Last I heard, you were starting fights and getting drunk and sleeping with anything that moved."

Max choked on his milkshake. Isobel turned to gape at her mother, outraged. Alex felt his blood go cold, and then hot, and then cold again. Ann looked unperturbed. Micahel was eerily still. It was Alex, still stunned, who spoke up. "Where the hell did you hear that?"

"I still have friends in town who keep an eye on my children for me. It's not my fault that Michael was almost always with them in one way or another," Ann sniffed. She drummed her nails against her teacup. "You really fell off the wagon when Max and Isobel were unwell so I'm glad that you've started to pull yourself together."

"Well," Michael said slowly, in that way that he often did, and Alex knew that the next thing out of his mouth was going to be brutal. And truthfully, Alex couldn't fault him for it. "Ann. Considering the fact that you're not my mother, your opinion on how I live my life means next to nothing to me, and I don't know how my pastimes are any concern of yours."

That was it. The straw that broke the camel's back. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop if one cared to listen. Max and Isobel exchanged a panicked glance. Michael and Ann just glared at each other across the table. Alex just pressed himself closer to Michael's side, preparing to do damage control.

Something fierce flickered across Ann's face, and Alex only caught it because he was watching her intently. "Are we really going to have this discussion again, Michael?"

"I'm not," Michael retorted. "I'm just saying to get your nose out of my business. Pay more attention to Isobel's love life or Max's job. Did you even know that he's been writing a book?"

"Unlike you, who still works at Sanders Auto and who never dates one person for any length of time?" Ann said. Despite Isobel's horrified expression, she continued on. "You were a difficult child, Michael. You needed help that Dave and I couldn't provide. You deserved better."

"We're not having this conversation," Michael grit out. "You don't have to ruin today just because you're feeling petty."

"The three of you weren't speaking," Ann continued as if Michael hadn't even spoken. "The people who ran the group home said that you were a menace. You were throwing tantrums and running amuck. Hell, the day we came to the home, you were drawing all over the walls!"

"That wasn't Michael," Max interjected before they could continue. "It was me, I've already told you that."

Ann threw her hands up in exasperation. "How was I supposed to know? Michael, you needed help that we couldn't give you. Do I wish that I had known that the three of you were related back then? Of course, I do. But do I regret doing what I did? No. Because I was able to give Max and Isobel a happy childhood, and if I hadn't done it, they would have had to suffer the rest of their lives in that group home, and they didn't deserve it."

The expression that Isobel wore as she glanced wearily between Michael and Ann was one of deep sadness and age-old heartbreak. "Mum. That's enough."

"I'm not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole," Michael's teeth were grit so hard that Alex could hear his jaw cracking. He was very proud of Michael's valiant effort of self-restraint.

But Ann just couldn't let it go. Maybe that's where Isobel got it from- she just didn't know when to stop pushing. "I'm sorry that your childhood was so terrible. I truly am, but sometimes, in this life, people have to make sacrifices. Now that you know who Max and Isobel have become, how good they are, wouldn't you want to sacrifice anything for them?"

The plates and cutlery began to rattle on the table. The tea sloshed around in Ann's cup. The glass rattled in the window panes. The blinds clattered together. The light fixtures swung back and forth, sending light in every direction. Max and Isobel were staring wide-eyed at Michael as the whole building rattled as if in an earthquake. Alex was honestly impressed that he had lasted this long.

"I would sacrifice anything for them," Michael said darkly, eyes not leaving Ann's for a second. "I have sacrificed for them."

Ann began to glance around as if seeking out the source of the sudden quake. Max reached over and gently rested his hand on Michael's fist, clenched so hard on the table that his knuckles had turned white, quietly urging Michael to calm down. If Isobel cared to look at Michael's aura, all she would see was red, red, red.

"Michael," Isobel said softly, half-warning, half-sympathy.

By now, Alex had had about enough of this nonsense. The fact that Michael had even come to this lunch was a miracle. He could hardly believe that the meeting had gone this well at all. But while he was more than proud of Michael for lasting so long and knew what his meeting meant to him, he wasn't going to make Michael endure another moment here if he didn't have to.

Instead, he checked his watch in an exaggerated motion. He pried Michael's fingers away from his palm, noting the fresh blood under his fingernails where they had bitten into his palm and drawn blood, and slid his own hand into the empty space.

"While this has been a lovely chat," Alex said, overly-politely, lying through his teeth. "But we really should be going. Better things to do, more important people to see- you know how it is," To Max and Isobel, he nodded, and said. "We'll chat with you two later. Enjoy the rest of your day."

It was surprisingly easy- scarily easy- to pull Michael up and out of his seat, his hand still gripped securely in Michael's own, and drag him out of the Crashdown. Neither of them offered money to pay for their meals. Ann could cover it- it was the least she could do.

The trip from the Crashdown to Michael's truck was a haze. Michael was more than willing to be dragged out the door and across the road. All Alex knew was that he had to get them both out of here, and fast before they both did something they might regret.

Now, for the most important question, possibly the most important question of all- now what?

"Do you want to drive, or should I?" He asked, aiming for nonchalant but probably failing miserably.

He wasn't sure what would be better or worse. Letting Michael drive while he was so angry sounded like a reckless and dangerous idea, especially with Alex actually in the car with him, considering what Alex knew about how Michael usually tended to vent his fury. On the other hand, maybe it was better to give him something mindless and easy to take his thoughts off of everything, something to do with his hands. Either way, it couldn't hurt to ask, right?

Wordlessly, Michael held out his hand, fingers splayed open and palm pointed upwards, and Alex dropped the keys into it. It was probably for the best- the only person who knew what Michael wanted was Michael, and Alex wouldn't really know where to drive them anyway.

The two of them climbed into the truck and with sure hands and steely eyes, Michael peeled out of the carpark and they drove in total silence to their destination. 

Chapter Text

The entire drive was taken in silence, nothing but the familiar rattling sounds of the old truck and the whoosh! of the world outside passing them by. But Alex couldn't even think about that. His entire world was condensed down to this one moment- the two of them confined within the safety of Michael's truck, mere feet away, saying nothing but sharing so much. They didn't need words to speak. Alex already knew what was going through Michael's head.

He kept one wary eye on Michael as he basically started to unravel right before his very eyes. His hands were white-knuckled around the steering wheel, and his foot was hitting the pedals with more force than necessary. His expression was stormy, his eyes hard on the road before him. The interior of the car smelled so much like ozone and rain and smoke that it was like standing outside in the middle of the tempest. But though he knew that Michael was holding onto his self-control by a thread, he wasn't worried. No matter how enraged Michael got, he would never hurt Alex or put him in danger, even accidentally. 

No matter what, Alex never had to fear Michael Guerin.

Even as the last of the town disappeared in the rear-view mirror and they continued to drive into the red-sand nothingness, Alex couldn't find it within himself to feel any sort of concern about it. He was more than content to sit in the tense yet comfortable silence of the car and let Michael deal with his emotions however he saw fit.

When Michael stopped the car and opened the door, Alex was a little surprised. He turned to Michael to see him already halfway out of the car. "Stay here," he said over his shoulder, voice forcibly calm. "I'll be back in a minute."

The car door shut behind him, and Alex couldn't call after him as he walked away.

So despite it going against everything Alex believed in, he remained in the passenger seat and took a moment to glance around at his new surroundings. 

It looked like a forgotten and dilapidated version of the junkyard that Michael spent so much time at. There was a front desk that was bordered up and falling apart. The lot was mostly filled with the carcasses of cars, strewn across the ground in every direction and lined up in redundant, neat rows. Part of Alex wondered how Michael even knew this place was here, but the other part knew it made sense. Michael liked to work on things in his spare time, just to keep himself busy, to do something with his hands. Him scavaging at this place and returning with useful parts for his next project made perfect sense. 

Admittedly, Alex sat there for longer than he wanted to, stewing in his disgust for Ann Evans and his concern for Michael, staring out at the pitiful remains of the scrapyard. It wasn't until he heard the sound of grinding metal and tortured screaming that he was spurred into action, scrambling out of the car and hastily following the direction of the shouting. 

Michael was surrounded by rubble. Bits of car pieces were strewn about, mangled and torn up and twisted into unrecognisable chunks. As he watched, Michael shouted again, and the framework of one of the cars flew apart and skidded away, ruined beyond repair. He thrust out his hand and fire spurted from his fingertips, scorching the body of another car, charring it until it went up in flames, the heat so hot that Alex could feel it against his skin, but Michael didn't even flinch at the proximity.

He twisted to face another target, and Alex caught a brief glance at his expression. It was one he hadn't seen in its entirety for a very long time, not since the short period of time between Jesse Manes crushing his hand with a hammer in the toolshed and Alex boarding a bus with a bunch of other men to follow in his father's footsteps and joining the airforce. It was angry and desperate, and pained, twisted and tortured and wrong, made even worse because Alex was acutely aware of what put that look there. 

Alex didn't even hesitate as he marched forward and fearlessly entered the bubble of destruction. 

He got close enough to touch before Michael turned around and caught him creeping up. For a moment, the anger was masked by panic. "Alex, you shouldn't be here."

"Why not?" Alex asked, continuing his slow yet steady walk towards Michael in the centre of the carnage.

"Because-" Michael spluttered, stunned, but Alex didn't let him continue.

"Because you are my boyfriend, and right now, you're hurting," Alex said simply. "And you're angry and lashing out, which you're allowed to do, but that doesn't mean that you have to do it alone. We're a team, remember?"

"I appreciate that Alex, I do," Michael shook his head, sending curls falling in a flurry across his face. "But you don't need to get involved. I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Alex said, not at all surprised to find that he felt confident in that fact. He reached out and placed his hands on Michael's trembling shoulders. "I trust you."

He watched with bated breath as emotion flickered across his face, so fast and so numerous that Alex almost couldn't keep up, but he knew without a question of a doubt when Michael opened his mouth to argue, and immediately gave up, succumbing to his exhaustion and allowing himself to sink into Alex's embrace. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his shoulders and leaned forwards until his forehead was pressed against Alex's, so close that his breath ghosted across Alex's face, and Alex instinctually moved his arms so he would wrap them around Michael's torso.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just rested against each other, comfortable in each other's space, breathing each other's air. Michael eventually wrapped his arms around Alex in a mirror image. Alex flexed his fingers against Michel's neck and twisted the curls there around his fingers. 

"You know that you can tell me anything, right?" Alex reminded quietly, not wanting to break this perfect little thing between them. "I won't judge you. No matter what."

Apparently, that was exactly the push that Michael needed. As Alex played with the baby hairs at the back of his neck, Michael tightened his arms around Alex. "I'm over it, you know? All my life, I've held onto that anger about being left behind. Sometimes, I used it against Max and Isobel, even though they didn't have any say in the matter. And I regret it. And I had almost totally forgiven Ann and Dave because they're right. We weren't speaking, we looked nothing alike, and that day she came to the home, they caught me drawing on the walls. What else could they have thought? They made the right decision."

"That's not true," Alex was only slightly surprised by that heat in his words. "Just because you were difficult, doesn't mean that you deserved to be the one left behind. You didn't deserve to suffer. Just because you were different from Max and Isobel doesn't mean that you deserved all the terrible things that happened to you."

When Michael released a tired breath, Alex felt it across his face. "I know that, now. I'm starting to learn that. But the point is, I know where she's coming from. The circumstances that surrounded Max and Isobel's adoption weren't the best, but I think that I know that if we had been able to speak, or if they had been able to somehow know that we were family, they would have taken the three of us."

"Alright," Alex replied with a fair amount of trepidation in his tone. For whatever reason, something about the way Michael said that set him on edge. "But...?"

"She just uses it against me all the time, you know?" Michael shook his head, and his curls tickled Alex's face. "Like today at the Crashdown. She's not my mother, but she still treats me like a disappointment, like I'm less than. It's why I always felt out of place when we were kids. They would always invite me over to their place and ask me to spend the night sometimes, but I just couldn't, because Ann and Dave always made me feel like something dirty in their perfectly clean life that I just didn't want to ruin that for them. I always felt like a stray dog that nobody wanted to put the effort into domesticating."

"Don't talk like that," Alex murmured into Michael's chest. "You know I hate it when you talk about yourself like that."

"I know, I'm sorry," Michael placed a kiss on Alex's crown, and Alex wanted to kick himself. He was the one who was supposed to be comforting Michael, not the other way around. "But you heard how she spoke about me back there, right? There's always something better that I can be doing, a better life choice that I can make. It doesn't make any sense because she's not my mother, but it still stings as if she were."

All Alex could think about was how good it felt when Jesse gave Alex his extremely rare praise, and how badly it hurt when he received Jesse's very common admonishments. "It makes sense. She's your sibling's mother. You want to prove to her that you're good enough."

He felt Michael's arms tighten incrementally around him, and Alex fell into his embrace. "I'm no psychologist, but I really don't think it's about Ann. I think, somewhere deep down, I'm worried that what she thinks will convince Max and Isobel that I'm not worth it, and they'll do the thing I've always been afraid of and they've always promised wouldn't ever happen."

"Oh," Alex said slowly. "So, you're worried that Ann's way of thinking will affect Max and Isobel and they'll learn to think of you the way that she does, and they'll abandon you?"

Michael was quiet for a surprisingly long time, and Alex felt like he had overstepped until Michael's shoulders slumped and he dropped his head until it could rest in the crook of his neck, his nose digging into the tender skin at Alex's neck. "It sounds stupid when you say it out loud."

"No, not at all. I know how your brain works so that actually makes perfect sense," Alex hummed. "But you know that they love you, right? Max and Isobel? I don't think Ann Evans's opinion means anything to them. They've been by your side for this long, I don't think that anything is going to change that. But they love you. You're their family, whether you share a last name and parents or not."

"I know," Michael sighed. "It's just a nagging thing. I'm sure that if I checked my phone it'd be blowing up with messages from the two of them making sure that I haven't gone off and done anything stupid."

"Well, they would know you the best," Alex teased if only to hear the way that Michael managed a genuine laugh, and to revel in the way that it vibrated against his chest. Alex reached up until he could fully thread his hands in the mess of Michael's curls. "She's wrong, you know. She doesn't know you, what she says doesn't matter. Max knows you. Isobel knows you. I know you. And the fact is that we all love you and that Ann Evans and her snooty book club wouldn't know you from a bar of soap. Alright? She doesn't matter."

They stood there, wrapped up together in the warmth of each other's embrace, and Alex physically felt as Michael began to calm down, the anger seeping out of him through his toes and dispersing through the earth, and he breathed in the scent of Alex as he held him, twisting his curls absently around his fingers as he focused on the feeling of Michael's heart hammering in his chest, pressed so close against Alex that he could no longer tell where his heartbeat ended and Michael's began.

Eventually, Michael began to pull away, and Alex let him go, immediately missing his warmth pressed against his chest. He didn't go far, just far enough so he could look down into Alex's eyes. He looked so earnest, so intent that Alex's breath caught in his throat. "I don't know how you do it, but you always know exactly what to say."

Humming, Alex leant into the touch of Michael's hands cupping the sides of his face. "It's easy, I'm just telling the truth. She doesn't know you, and she has never cared to know you. And that's her fault, not yours. Alright? Maybe you're right, maybe what happened when you were kids were things out of her control, and that she couldn't have known better. But everything that happened afterwards is her fault. Once the three of you could speak, and Max and Isobel were sneaking out to meet you and were calling you their brother, the way that she treated you was her fault. You didn't deserve that, and that's on her. I don't think you're missing anything by not being close with her. In fact, I think that it's more of a bonus."

When Michael laughed, it was the sweetest sound that Alex had ever heard. He brushed his hands through Alex's hair. "You know, I don't think I've ever thought about it like that," he mused. "I've always thought of it as her abandoning me at the group home, and then not being good enough to meet her standards as a teen. In my head, it's always been my fault. But I think you're right."

"Of course, I'm right," Alex teased. "You should listen to me more often. I'm a wealth of knowledge."

Snorting, Michael pulled away again so he could sling his arm across Alex's shoulder, and he turned them around and led them back towards where his truck was parked. Alex couldn't remember if he had even shut the door in his hasty exit. "I'll certainly take that into consideration. Are you ready to head back?"

"I'm happy to go anywhere," Alex reached up and laced Michael's fingers with his as they stepped around debris and over discarded parts. "As long as I'm with you."

And sure, maybe it was a little bit corny, but could anyone really blame him? He thought that he deserved a little bit of sappy after the life that they've lived. And he'd be corny all over again if only for the way that Michael threw his head back in belly-deep laughter, so genuine and joyous that Alex felt a smile crawling up across his own face.

He let Michael walk them back in the direction of the truck, and though Alex knew that things weren't perfect yet, it was easy enough to push all thoughts of Ann Evans and their disaster of a lunch far, far from his mind.