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The day that Alex shipped out for basic training, Michael had sat in a cell in the Roswell police station, staring back at Jim Valenti with a bored, emotionless expression to match the dark glower he was getting from the sheriff. When Kyle came in to collect the hubcaps, Michael had given him a finger waggling wave and the best smile he could muster.
Shortly thereafter the sheriff released him, and Michael was expecting Kyle to be waiting for him in the parking lot. He wasn’t though, and it’s the last time Michael saw him that summer. When they ran into one another at the Stripes come what would be Christmas break for Valenti, Kyle made a point of ignoring Michael as if he didn’t even know who Michael was at the pump across from him.
He wasn’t the only one that Michael ran into though. A few nights later, on Christmas Eve, he had the surprise of his life. And given he’s an alien abandoned on Earth with telekinesis and a family with differing abilities, that’s saying a lot.
Parking on the far end of the packed dirt lot of the Wild Pony, Michael climbs down from his truck, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the seat. He wouldn’t need it inside despite the early evening winter chill in the air, but he definitely would need the cowboy hat he pulled off the dash and slid on top of his curls.
It was a gift for himself for the holiday, not that anyone else was likely to get him much except Isobel, but he liked the look it gave him. With the tooled boots he’d picked up at a second hand shop and had resoled for next to nothing and the vintage belt buckle he’d tucked the front of his tee shirt into, it was definitely the look he’d been going for in the last few months. A new Michael, not the sweet kid that had fallen for a skateboarding punk with a few piercings and a lot of eyeliner. Michael who could handle being on his own in Roswell.
Starting for the front of the bar with a swagger that led from the hips, walking dick forward. He’d only gotten a few steps when a sharp whistle draws his attention, spinning back around to look towards the sound.
It’s dark out already, the shadows starting to length. Not enough though that they hide the figure leaning against the front of Michael’s truck. Not entirely though the BDUs he wears hide the form beneath that Michael knows intimately. The cap hides the shorn dark hair, and casts his face in shadows. Even with all of that, Michael knows exactly who it is.
Slowly, losing that attitude and strut, coming back to stand almost toe to toe with Alex.
“You look weird.”
It’s the only proclamation that Michael can come up with. Without eyeliner, nothing between his nose and lip, it’s all a bit odd even if it’s still Alex.
“Oh? I look weird?” His gaze is incredulous, his gaze raking over Michael. “Did someone in the Long family become your personal shopper?”
For a long time they stare at one another in the lengthening shadows, both of their faces further cast in shadows even as Michael leans in closer, eyes narrowing as he stares at Alex.
“You got a problem, Cowboy?”
Suddenly he smirks, kissing Alex’s cheek, then a quick peck on the lips. “Get in the damn truck, Soldier.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Except it had been an order, not a request and Alex found it pretty damn sexy, if he’s honest. About as sexy as that swagger.
*************
It’s bitter cold but the sides of the truck at least keep the wind down as they lay tangled in the back of the truck once more. There should have been talks. There should have been time between seeing one another for the first time in months and ending up in the back of the truck, tangled in Mexican blankets and their heads resting on the balled up camo jacket and Michael’s coat.
There hadn’t been any talks though. Just stolen kisses and soft touches during the drive out to the ranch. Murmured words of desire and lust between kisses. And laughter. More laughter than either of them had known in the months since the last time they had laid like this, not caring about the cold metal beneath them or the sound of coyotes in the desert around them. Nothing mattered but this, being together.
“When’s your old man going to look for you?”
Michael didn’t want to ask but he needed to know how much time he had. They wouldn’t say goodbye. Just as they weren’t talking about anything they needed to. For a time they can pretend on what could have been and not what truly is.
“Tomorrow. I told them I’d be home for breakfast Christmas morning. I got in as early as I could,” he admits. “So I could find you.” Nuzzling at Michael’s jaw, kissing and nipping before he leans back, meeting his gaze. “Merry Christmas.”
Surging up, Michael drove Alex back against the bed of the truck. He hesitates a moment, staring down at Alex, just mesmerized by the image of him there, truly and actually here. He opens his mouth, doesn’t find the words and then stops.
“How long?”
It’s exactly what Alex expects, and he can’t help but to smile up at him. “A week. I’ll be home a week, and after tomorrow morning, that’s all yours.”
The answer gets a slow, wicked smile as Michael dips his head, bypassing a kiss to sink his teeth into the side of Alex’s neck, nipping and biting and suckling. If he’s even going to lose a morning, he’s going to make sure Jesse Manes knows why his son isn’t home.
*************
Jesse had started in on his son the moment he saw the mark on Alex’s neck, raging until Alex finally walked out before breakfast was even over. He’d gotten a hotel room on the edge of town in a place that looked like it had come out of a horror movie but it was cheap and out of the way, and turned out to be surprisingly clean.
They spent six days eating food truck tamales and learning everything they could about one another’s bodies. They watched crappy television, and overflowed the tub trying to bathe together, and Michael left more marks on Alex as if by pure brunt of those bruises he could prove to the world that Alex Manes belonged to him.
Except he knew he didn’t. He belonged to the Air Force and when they went to bed on the sixth night, they didn’t talk about it.
They fooled around and made out, and fell asleep tangled up in one another. When Alex woke up, the bed beside him was still warm but it was empty. There was a piece of paper on the pillow and in sprawled writing it just had three words.
Be careful, Soldier.
Alex refuses to cry as much as it hurts to get dressed and head for the airport, never once thinking of saying a word to his father or his brothers. It had been a Merry Christmas, and that’s all that mattered.
Two days later, Michael’s cellphone rings, waking him up way too early, before the sun has risen even. Cursing under his breath, he answers despite how frustrated he is.
“Someone had better be dead.”
“Guerin, it’s Manes.”
Michael sits up immediately, panic flooding his system. “Shit, hey. What’s going on?” They hadn’t talked about it, but he thought they had this worked out and they weren’t going to do goodbyes, or act as if much has changed for either of them. Alex is in the military and Michael is throwing away his life. One week doesn’t change that.
“My commanding officer wants to talk to you.”
There’s a sound that Michael realizes is the phone changing hands.
“Is this the person my airman spent his holiday with?”
“Uhmmm, why?” Maybe not the right answer but then Michael hadn’t signed a contract with the Air Force, had he?
“Because I asked my airman who was to blame for the destruction of government property, and he called this number. Would you like to explain yourself?”
Sitting there in the trailer he’d just bought, utterly fucking confused and trying to make sense of this call. And why Alex betrayed him for something he hadn’t done?
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I haven’t done a damn thing to government prop…” He goes utterly still, suddenly having a sneaking suspicion what this is all about. “Are you talking about the hickeys?”
“So you admit to what you did?”
Michael really wishes he had a beer right now. This is some fucking madness for this early in the morning.
“You know what? Yeah, I admit it. I worked very hard to destroy your property too. Left him utterly and wholly wrecked, honestly. What’re you going to do? Charge me?”
“If it happens again, charges may be pressed. Just make sure you return him in the same condition we send him home in. Understand me?”
Michael rolls his eyes, scrubbing at his face with one hand. “Tell Manes he can bite me,” he says, hanging up the phone and flopping back onto his bed.
“They’re going to be damn lucky if I don’t send him home with my name tattooed on his ass next time,” he mutters, staring at the ceiling and hating the way his eyes stung just thinking about how far away Manes was, and how he didn’t even know if he’d ever see him again.