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1. Drinking Buddies
The knock on his door comes as a surprise. Alex doesn’t have many (any) neighbors, but there’s only so many people it might be. Liz and Isobel have been pretty focused in on getting Max back, Maria’s only speaking to Rosa, Liz probably isn’t letting Rosa drive out this far on her own, it’s definitely not Max, and he’d just left Michael an hour ago after handing over the console piece and a larger part of himself than he’d care to admit.
All that said, it doesn’t shock him as much as it should to find Kyle Valenti standing at his door, looking as hollow and raw as Alex feels.
Without prompting, Kyle holds up a six pack as an offering of sorts and says, “I just told Liz I still love her after she fake kissed me.”
There’s a lot to unpack there, but Alex just offers in return, “I gave Michael the console piece.”
The other man makes a grim face. “I only brought the one pack.”
Alex moves aside to let him in. “You like bourbon?”
2. Acquaintances
If he dwells on it too much, he thinks Maria might be right, so he tries not to dwell on it.
It’s been a heavy day for all of them, but the flask Alex offers the surgeon has less to do with how scraped out Alex’s insides feel—or even camaraderie—and more to do with the droop in Kyle’s shoulders, the tense lines weighing down his face, and the slight tremor in his hands.
He will admit that maybe he and Kyle might be something like friendly acquaintances.
Alex takes another swig out of the flask at the thought and passes it back to the other man. They sit like that for the next twenty minutes, silently passing the flask back and forth between them while staring-at-but-not-seeing the room where Max came back to life.
Alex finishes the last mouthful of whiskey and stuffs the flask back into the pocket of his fatigues.
For the first time since he accepted the flask, Kyle looks at him. “Thanks, man.”
Alex nods. “You looked like you needed it.”
They both stand, and Alex realizes that he is a little more drunk than he anticipated. Half a flask of whiskey isn’t normally enough to get him to this point (and they say the military doesn’t teach you anything), but it’s been a long day (to put it mildly) and he can’t remember the last time he ate anything. Kyle seems to be in a similar situation, judging by the way he has to reach back and steady himself against the vacated chair or the way he blinks heavily and blows out what is probably supposed to be a sobering breath.
“I’ve gotta go home.” He hesitates slightly. “I’ve got a guest room if you need it.”
Alex considers saying no; he’s only just realized that he might not dislike Kyle Valenti as much as he had originally believed. But he definitely shouldn’t be driving right now and the Uber out to the cabin then back to pick up his car in the morning will be at least twice as expensive than if he stays at Kyle’s, so he swallows his trepidation and shrugs, “sure,” and adds a “thanks” for the hell of it.
Kyle offers him a tentative smile. “I don’t have a ton of food but I should have enough to make chilaquiles.”
Alex can’t help the twenty-year-old fondness for mornings spent at the Valenti house after a sleepover that creeps into his chest. “If I ever turn down Valenti chilaquiles, assume I’m being held at gunpoint.”
Kyle’s smile widens into a grin, and he lowers his voice like he’s got a secret, “Just don’t tell my mom the salsa’s store bought and the beans are from a can.”
That startles a noise that’s half-scoff, half-laugh out of Alex. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
3. Running Buddies
“I think I hate you.”
Alex scoffs as Kyle dramatically flops down onto the floor of the cabin and tries to catch his breath. “You’re getting sweat on my hardwood.”
“I take it back. I know I hate you.” He groans as Buffy lumbers her way over to him and begins licking his face. “I’m only going running with Buffy from now on.”
“Buffy’s overweight and blind in one eye; she can hardly make it to the front gate.”
“That’s perfect since I’ve vowed to never move again.”
Alex has the audacity to laugh at him, “You said you work out! I assumed that meant you ran!”
“I do run! That wasn’t running! That was an hour and a half sprint!”
Kyle’s eyes are closed so he can’t see Alex roll his eyes, but the man clearly does his level best to infuse the action into his words, “It wasn’t that bad, and I really wanted to try out the blade.”
Kyle groans again, “Don’t try to guilt me with your leg.”
“I’m not trying to guilt you; I’m trying to make you feel bad about getting your ass kicked in a footrace against a guy with only one foot.”
The exhausted heap on the floor that used to call itself Kyle gropes blindly for something to throw at Alex before admitting defeat and letting his arm fall back to the floor with a solid thunk and opts for raising a single finger instead.
4. Wingman
Kyle slides him a shot of tequila and Alex muses that maybe rekindling this not-a-friendship wasn’t the worst idea he’s ever had.
“Question.”
Alex hums his acknowledgement as he tips the shot back.
“What’s your type?”
He takes it back. This was a terrible idea, but he’s too busy trying not to sputter too much around the tequila he had breathed in to voice it. Kyle pushes a glass of water into his hand and patiently waits for the coughing to subside.
Maria, who has been shooting Alex smug I-told-you-so looks since he and Kyle had walked into the Pony, drifts over to check on him until he clears his windpipe enough to rasp “I’m fine” at her.
She shoots Kyle a reproachful look, “don’t make me regret not banning you with everyone else, Valenti.”
Kyle graces her with a charming smile (Maria rolls her eyes), “And leave Alex to drink by himself?”
Maria concedes his point with a tip of her head and narrowed eyes before she leaves to help another patron.
“So,” Alex glares, but Kyle is undeterred, “your type?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“This guy I work with-”
“No”
“You didn’t even let me finish!”
“I don’t want to be set up with your coworkers!”
“Well I don’t want to mix my personal and professional life even more than it already is, but he explicitly asked me if you were single and into guys, so here I am being an amazing wingman!”
Alex narrows his eyes suspiciously, “Really?”
“Hand to God. He sees you when you come in for your PT appointments and thinks you’re cute, and he saw us at the Crashdown last week, so he thought I might be able to put in a good word.”
Alex chews on his lower lip and spares a moment to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation. “You, Kyle Valenti, are really going to set me up with another man?”
They both let out huffy chuckles at the end of his sentence.
Kyle shrugs and tilts his mouth in a crooked half-grin, “what are fellow legacies of a massive government conspiracy for?”
5. Partners in (Not) Crime
“So, on a scale from Cam to Guerin, how illegal is this?”
Alex shrugs, “Like an Isobel, maybe?”
“So not a crime but only technically,” Kyle tacks on a disgruntled “great” under his breath.
The not-crime in question is breaking into his father’s toolshed because of a vague reference to it as a storage space for older, less classified data in one of the recent Caulfield files. They technically aren’t even breaking in; Jesse hadn’t bothered to change the shed’s lock combo in 15 years and the perimeter alarms are laughably easy to bypass. They are still trespassing, but his father isn’t even supposed to have these files so Alex can probably just throw around his rank and words like 'dereliction of duty’ to get them out of any legal troubles that crop up, and Kyle is the only child of the last two Chaves County sheriffs. None of this makes the doctor worry less.
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” Alex says for the third time, “you just have to let me know if anyone shows up.”
Kyle furrows his brows, “No, Alex, I mean are you going to be okay in there.”
Oh. Kyle’s worried about him, Alex realizes with a start, and not just for the sake of the mission. He swallows past the wave of fondness that’s become increasingly normal over the last few months where Kyle Valenti is concerned and nods. “I’ll be fine.”
Kyle still doesn’t look convinced, so Alex clasps his shoulder and catches his eye. “Kyle, I will be fine. Say what you will about my tragic backstory, but I am pretty good at repression.”
Finally, Kyle relents with a playful shove and a final, hushed “just be careful.”
+1
All things considered, it goes better than the last time his father caught him bringing a guy around the shed. Alex even manages to put up a fight this time until Jesse switches gears and points a gun at where Kyle is laying drugged and prone on the ground just outside the shed’s doorway. Alex goes quietly after that.
Unfortunately, none of the guards Jesse passes them off to at the facility he takes them to are Flint, who’s become increasingly confused and troubled with his role in Project Shepherd. Fortunately, after taking his prosthesis, the guards seem to think that he and Kyle are functionally useless and have no qualms about throwing them into the same cell and basically forgetting about them.
Ten minutes lapse since they’ve been locked up before Kyle stirs. His breathing had been regular, so Alex hadn’t been excessively worried, but the tightness in his chest loosens fractionally when the doctor opens his eyes and groans.
“Damn, I was hoping I’d wake up and you’d have kicked your dad’s ass.”
Alex snorts, “I was, but Jesse loves to fight dirty.” More seriously, he admits, “he pulled a gun on you, and my dad doesn’t make empty threats.”
Kyle’s silent for a minute. “You trying to say you care about me, Manes?”
A surprised noise forces its way out of Alex’s mouth and he watches as a smug grin spreads across Kyle’s face. From where he’s sitting, he manages to gently kick Kyle’s hip with his left foot. “Don’t be so gay, Valenti.”
There’s a beat where they just stare at each other before they both dissolve into more laughter than the situation warrants, but no one comes by to tell them to shut up, so it continues until they need to catch their breath and wipe tears out of the corner of the eyes.
As they regain their composure, Alex smiles slightly and nudges the other man’s hip again, “There’s worse people to be imprisoned with; you’re a good friend, Kyle.”
Kyle roles his yes and shakes his head, “I can’t believe I had to be drugged and held at gunpoint for you to admit we’re friends.”
“Ugh, Maria told you!”
“Of course Maria told me! She gave me a full-on shovel talk and asked about my intentions with you like she was Arturo on prom night!”
Alex dissolves into laughter again but manages to get out between breaths, “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m going to die in some weird fever dream friendship confessional with you of all people.”
“Oh please, I’m sure Guerin’s already channeled all his tragic little alien feelings for you into a truly terrible extraction plan that will backfire spectacularly.”
Alex rolls his eyes but really can’t refute the statement too much. “Spectacularly might be a stretch; you’ll probably only end up with a couple of broken toes. Think I’ll get my leg back?”
“Only if you don’t mind a few scorch marks on it.”
In the distance, something explodes and shouting can be heard. Alex and Kyle grin wildly at each other.