littleorphanalien | (no subject)

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Alex's name is all over posters for this music festival, something that Michael had seen once or twice. When Alex had arranged it, Michael just figured that it was some casual thing, like a gig at the bar. Then, real flyers came out, posters, and Alex had a spot on a stage at a festival. He'd seen them on the way back from dropping Luke off at school, needing to do a double-take before he was overwhelmed with the sight of them.

To say that he's proud is a wild understatement.

He's grabbed about three of them, taking off for the Ocean View apartment, grateful that they're still in the process of moving so it won't take too long, hurrying inside. "Alex!" he calls, bouncing with excitement. "Alex, you're never gonna believe what I..."

He trails off, because when he glances up from the flyers, he gets his first good look at Alex.

"...uhhhh..."

Alex still has the coffee cup in hand, wearing a pair of sweatpants tied on the one end, and he's shirtless. Michael's seen him shirtless a thousand times before, but the tanned skin against these particular sweatpants, the way his hair is falling over his forehead, and his sleepy mussed just woke up look is...well, it's doing a lot to him.

"I found your music flyers," he manages, babbling out nonsense.

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Michael leans into the kiss, happy to soak it up, and then he settles on the bed to watch him, going a little fuzzy and confused. "Alex, I don't know the first thing about what you actually need for skateboarding with two actual legs," he confesses. "So you might have to explain to me what kind of function you need before I can say yes or no, really."

Alex moves to sit down so he can get the jeans over his prosthetic and up his other leg. Taking his time, seeing how it feels every time he moves, the different sensations as he gets into them.

"It's about balance, mostly this leg would stay on the board and I would use the other to push. You want to know the truth? I haven't been on a skateboard since I left Roswell. Not until we turned to teens here. But laying in a field hospital, the thought came into my head one night that I could never skateboard again. So it's not realistic maybe? But it's the one thing that started me mourning about what I could never have."

Michael squints at it, his brain already working. "You still wouldn't be feeling anything other than the weight of it," he admits. "I don't have a solve for electrical impulses from the brain shooting down into the prosthetic, not without my handprint on you and even that's flawed."

Because him sending back a message that Alex is unbalanced will be a few seconds too late.

"I wish I could give you that," he says, hating that he can't figure it out, frustrated by it.

"Michael, hey."

He moves to come stand before Michael, nudging his legs apart and moving to nestle himself between them. Leaning in a bit, he cups Michael's face in both hands, staring into his eyes.

"You are giving me so much, and this is a big deal to me. You are doing amazing things, and you're helping me. Please, don't think you haven't done enough for me because you have. You've done so much for me. Just with this."

He rests his brow to Michael's. "I love you and thank you."

Michael looks up, still sulking a little, but he lets Alex nudge his knees apart, pouting until Alex cups his face and then looks into his eyes. From there, he gazes mournfully up, wishing that he could be smarter, or at least more attuned with his alien side.

Maybe there's some healing power that could give his leg back, but he doesn't have it. "I love you too," he murmurs, pressing their brows together, and exhaling as Alex does. "I just...I wanna do more."

"I don't doubt you'll ever stop trying, but never think that I don't think you haven't done enough," he admits in a low voice. "I think you have done amazing things for me. You literally offered me a piece of yourself with this prosthetic," he murmurs softly. "Don't think I don't realize how amazing that is, or how important it was for you to help me."

Leaning down, he kisses him tenderly. "You're amazing, Michael, and I appreciate everything you do for me. Every single day."

Michael stares up at him, leaning towards him like he's the sun and Michael is just a flower desperately trying to get closer to him, soak it all up while he has it, before it goes away. "Not gonna stop," he warns, and leans up to kiss him as hard as he can.

"Now, can I go buy him some sexy pants to show you off?" he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the space beside Alex's ear, by the hair of his temple.

"I know, and I won't stop showing you how amazing you are and the wonderful things you do for me, Michael. I won't stop doing everything I can for you."

And he means it. Everything he can do for him.

"Come on. Help me pick out clothes that will make me look sexy, and utterly yours." He steps back, offering Michael his hand.

"I mean, that would be getting you naked and tattoing Michael Guerin on your stomach and ass," he deadpans, "Didn't think you'd be into that as a concert look." He grins, though, and takes Alex's hand with both of his to raise him up, kissing the side of his cheek.

"Where do you wanna go? Leather store? Tight jeans depot? Glitter avenue?" he teases.

Alex pauses, giving Michael a look. "Keep it up, and you're going to find that tattoo," he points out, already having the two inked pieces and loving how they look. Who knows. He might get more. With Michael's name across his stomach and ass.

He laughs at that, rolling his eyes. "Do you know what I've always wanted to wear? I mean, it's going to sound stupid, but I wanted one back in school and of course Jesse wouldn't let me. You think they sell those utility kilts here?"

Michael's grin blooms on his face, and he laughs softly. "You already have my initials on me, same as I have yours on me." He's feeling pretty good about that. "Don't worry, no more tattoos needed, just all the kisses in the world," he mocks, hand over his heart, like this is the only thing he cares about and needs.

"I don't think that sounds stupid at all," he says, and leans over to get his phone. "I bet there's some kind of place that has them. Kilts are Scottish, right? Or Irish? Fuck if I know that sort of thing."

"What? You don't like my ink? You don't want Michael's in huge graphic antique font on my abs?" He perks up suddenly, laughing. "What about on the small of my back? A tramp stamp with your name," he teases. "But you will always get the number of kisses you want."

"Uhmmm? I don't know. I just love the punk look of them and... it means I can show off my new prosthetic."

"I'm just saying that it might split the difference and go from kind of romantic to kind of prison-tat," Michael informs him, and that one's not so much a joke, because it's that or he has to think of Max's penchant for tattoos and how it might end up that Alex is like that.

He leans in to steal one of those kisses, smugly, and eases back.

The warmth that hits him when Alex talks about showing it off is wild, like he never could have anticipated, and he breathes out slowly. "You wanna show it off?" he asks. "It's just a prosthetic."

"Do I look like I would survive in prison," he mutters as if he isn't a trained soldier and capable of being a fucking bad ass when he tries. Of course in here he isn't trying. He's happily being just a rock star with a handsome fiance and a great future.

"Michael, it's a beautiful and amazing prosthetic that you put a lot of work into. Also, hate to tell you but to the world? It's going to be cool. Hell, to me it's cool," he points out.

"Yes," Michael says bluntly, because yes, Alex would take over in prison. "You would be in charge of them," he guarantees, which is probably not the level of flirting that he wants to achieve, but here he is, and there Alex is, and he's not lying.

He stares at the prosthetic, wanting to be proud, but humility is kicking in hard. "I just want you to like it," he admits. "So if you do, then I don't care who else knows, if it's the whole world or no one at all."

He laughs at that though, knowing that maybe he's not entirely wrong. "I would rather take over your life and be in charge of that," he says with a grin. "But I settle for partners," he teases him with a laugh, following alongside Michael.

"Not only is it beautiful, it is comfortable. It's already feeling a lot more comfortable than I might have thought." It's new and exciting that it feels so light and this comfortable.

"You're already in charge of my life," Michael vows, and he's happy to offer it to him, leaning in towards him like an invisible magnetic force is drawing him closer, making him soppy and stupid as he tips his head one way, then the other, curling in towards him.

"I tried really hard to balance the weight, but to make it easier," he says, "and to match the shape of your leg," he says excitedly, grabbing his keys so they can head out. "And now, you're a little bit alien too."

"And you are in charge of mine," he points out, loving how they walk together, how close they are to one another. He loves how comfortable they are with each other these days. It's wonderful and beautiful.

"You did, it really balances..." He was going to say well but then Michael spoke of that and Alex practically melts. "A little bit of you," he says, leaning into him once more, smiling. "I love you put it like that. I'm part of you now."

Michael's eyes are half-lidded and soft and warm as he stares at Alex, curling in tightly as he wraps his arm around his waist, kissing his cheek as he gets the keys and locks up behind him. He's still feeling warm and fuzzy and delighted, the poster having lifted him up more than anything.

He's in love with a budding rock star.

"I mean," he drawls, breath hot on Alex's ear as he leans in, nipping at his earlobe, "I'm a part of you most nights when you're in me," he says, deliberately trying to make him blush.

Their life is wholly and truly amazing and Alex can't hide that look of delight on his face as he leans into Michael. Not needing the support but wanting to be close to him, to feel that high warmth pouring off of him and how good that feels.

Whatever he was expecting to hear in that moment, that isn't it. Whining softly as he closes his eyes, savoring the thought, his hand running over Michael's thigh without even thinking about it. "Definitely always mine," he groans. "But if you want to go shopping, you can't keep doing that," he whimpers.

Michael acts the innocent in this, lifting his keys up like they're going to protect him. "Hey, I'm the one about to drive you to the store," he points out, like he wasn't also the one who's potentially getting him in severe trouble.

He bends down to pry Alex's hand off his thigh, tangling their fingers together. "Shopping," he says. "And it's my treat." Even if he's still freaking out about money these days, with a whole new house to furnish and a shipping container to buy.

"Remind me how that keeps my hands off of you?" Because he's pretty sure that isn't going to entirely do much to make him behave. He can think of a lot of things he can do while Michael is driving, after all.

But then he makes that offer and Alex blinks at him, arching a brow as his hand takes Michael's.

"You really are excited about this event, aren't you?"

Michael gives him a long, confused look. "Why wouldn't I be? Alex, this is huge," he says. "Your name is on a festival poster!" he reminds him, getting in the truck and tossing his wallet to the seat beside him. "You dreamed about this when you were seventeen. You wanted to make music, instead you went off and fought someone else's war."

"And now, look at you," he praises. "I'm so proud of you, Alex," Michael says, and he's not joking around. He's serious, cupping Alex's cheek. "I'm beyond proud, and I'm so excited what this means for us."

Those words remind him of how different this world is, how good it is. How good their life is here in Darrow. That all he gave up is his again. And that means so much to him. It means the world.

Climbing into the truck, liking how light the prosthetic feels as he draws it up into the truck. It's so much easier than the other one is.

Leaning into that touch, smiling at him. "I'm excited, and it's crazy. I can't believe I get this chance to have everything I gave up." Music. Michael. This life he has now. "I'm so sorry I made both of us wait so long."

Michael watches the way he's moving with it. He thinks he'll probably watch that movement for weeks, if not months, just to make sure that it's not hurting him. There's an element of ego and pride, too, because if he's figured it out, then he's made Alex's life better.

That really is all he wants.

"I'm sorry I got myself locked up when you were leaving and acted like a dick all summer," he says, because the blame goes both ways on this one. "It's not all on you, and it's not all on me either." He squeezes Alex's knee. "That's what the therapy is for, right? Fixing this stuff."