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Michael’s always been a big science nerd (“What? Really? You?” “Okay, just because we’re married doesn’t mean you get to give me shit about something you already knew.”) but above all else, he’s always loved the first law of thermodynamics – that no energy is created in the universe and none is destroyed. It just shifts around.
He loves that one so much because it’s what he’s been thinking about, these days.
“I know I said your alien telekinesis was neat a year ago, but can I please have the presence of the actual Michael Guerin in the kitchen to help me unpack the obscene amount of crystal we got from our registry?”
Michael stops floating a pair of champagne flutes (even if he does bring them down to rest on the counter) and bequeathes Alex with his presence and a kiss.
“People didn’t like the crystal meth joke, huh?”
Judging from Alex’s tipped head and pressed lips, he hadn’t liked it either.
Energy, though. Michael’s been thinking about energy and love, because nothing is created and nothing is destroyed. It means that the love he has for Alex is a gift, a hand-me-down, a tradition from someone else’s love that burned bright as anything before it became someone else’s.
It might even be his mother’s, if he wants to get sentimental about it.
“Seriously, what are we supposed to do with all of this?” Alex asks, gesturing with two flutes in each hand, like he’s some kind of nouveau-Wolverine who’ll slash your face open on New Years’ Eve.
Michael digs into the box to find some more crystal vases, wondering if he can shape some of the alien pieces into out-of-this-world sculptures. “We could always have parties.”
Alex snorts, but when Michael doesn’t laugh, he glances over to take his temperature. Honestly, Michael’s not even sure if he’s serious, but now that he’s said it, he doesn’t hate the idea.
“I mean, we’ve got a lot of family and friends. I’m pretty sure Max wouldn’t mind a welcome home party when he eventually decides to come back to Earth,” Michael says, aware that he’s a few seconds away from rambling as his nerves run away from him, but before he can do that, Alex slides the flutes away and comes back to slide his palms over Michael’s neck, steadying him in place.
This love that Alex has for him isn’t new, either. It’s something he’s had for over a decade and he didn’t even have someone to learn it from. Him and Michael both had to create something out of nothing in the absence of an example of parental love, but they’d figured out how to love someone unconditionally.
They’d done it for each other.
“We can be anything we want to be,” Alex agrees, sounding almost surprised by that revelation.
“I mean, not anything,” Michael says. “I’m never going to be a person who goes to the gym or goes for a run or sees Kyle Valenti and doesn’t give him a hard time.”
Alex cocks a brow upwards. “You say that like I don’t know that you and Kyle have hung out two times in the last month. You can’t fight it. You’re not the guy who slashed Valenti’s tires anymore.”
“I am, though,” is Michael’s instinctive defense. Before Alex can argue, he continues. “I’m just other things, too. There’s more parts of me than before.”
He’s a husband now. He loves someone in a way that he never thought he could and he’s made a vow that he’d never thought he’d be asked to. He looks at Alex, right into his eyes, because it’s the steadiest place he’ll ever find. The warmth and the love there centers him and he knows he’s in the right place.
“What do you want to be, Alex? Do you wanna be party hosts? Dig out the crystal and fine china and have our family over?”
He’s learned not to instinctively mock something, on the off chance that he’s tearing into someone’s actual opinion. Seeing Alex shift his weight to his other heel and the sheepish little shrug he gives, Michael’s glad he hadn’t jumped on it.
“It could be styrofoam and straws,” he insists. “I’ve spent too long without a real family and now that I’m a Guerin, now that I’m part of your family…” he says, plucking at the collar of Michael’s flannel to pull him in for a soft kiss. “That’s worth celebrating, right?”
In the absence of love, Alex went out and found some. He gave his love away and found a family where he hadn’t had one before – apart from the other black sheep in Greg. Nothing is created. Nothing is destroyed.
It also doesn’t fall into your lap, which makes Michael love their marriage even more, because they had a hard road and instead of giving up, they got here – speedbumps and all.
“I’ll see what Liz can whip up in a banner and give Isobel a challenge,” Michael says, his eyes sliding over Alex’s face. “Combination welcome home bash and dinner party with all our fancy new registered stuff.”
“You know,” Alex says, sliding away from Michael with his hand trailing down his arm, “We can definitely use that new blender to make your acetone margaritas.”
Thank you, Isobel, for that one.
Alex has returned to unpacking their registry, but Michael’s too busy watching him fondly, thinking of Tripp’s journal – that whatever specks of universe worked to create this man must have been built from the same stuff as what’s in Michael.
“Hey,” Michael calls out, as Alex starts on another box. “I love you,” he says, because he could say it all day and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Alex laughs, not like he doesn’t believe it, but in that overwhelmed way he gets when Michael reminds him about it. They went years without it, he’s got time to make up. “I love you too,” he says seriously, once his amusement has passed. “I’m not gonna forget, you know. I know you love me.”
“You deserve to hear it,” Michael insists.
“We’ve got the rest of our lives,” Alex promises, reaching for Michael’s hand. “You’re here. I’m here. Our ridiculous amounts of wedding gifts are also here,” he continues in a deadpan voice. “So, let’s start writing thank you notes and double up invitations so they can get some use. Okay?”
It’s more than okay.
He loves that their family and friends did this for them. He loves that they’re there for them, and because of that, Alex and Michael can be there for them in return. Nothing’s created and nothing’s destroyed, after all.
They all just get their turn.
It’s been two years since they got married and Michael still wakes up every morning thinking that someone is going to take this away from him. It’s not that he doesn’t think he deserves it, he just doesn’t think he’s this lucky to have it stay his.
He worries Alex will get called up for some insanely dangerous Deep Sky mission or some worse organization is going to figure out what Michael really is.
Nothing happens. Nothing changes. The scary bumps in the night stay in the shadows and instead, Michael and Alex get to celebrate without a new alien threat hanging over their heads.
“Happy anniversary,” Alex shares, pushing a wrapped box towards him. “I know the traditional gift is cotton, so I’m a year late, but…” Michael’s already torn into it, digging out a pack of papers bound together with a blue ribbon.
“You got me paperwork?” Michael teases.
Alex isn’t laughing as he settles in at Michael’s side, tangling their hands together. “Read it,” he encourages gently.
Michael would much rather be doing other things with Alex so close, but every time he tries to initiate it (with a hand under Alex’s shirt or a kiss to his neck), Alex gently directs him back to the papers. They mean something.
“Okay,” he admits defeat with a fond laugh, leaning forward to speed-read his way through the first page once he’s slipped a finger through the elegant bow of the ribbon and let it unfurl. He flips to the second page, but goes back almost instantly to make sure what he’d read is actually what’s on the page. “Alex, this is…”
“I know we haven’t talked about it recently, but it’s come up in passing conversation enough that I don’t think I’m entirely off the mark. Am I?”
Michael immediately shakes his head. “No. No, you’re on it. You are right on the bullseye.”
The papers explain that upon signature, they will officially be considered for fostering in the state of New Mexico. Alex’s section has already been filled out, which means that as soon as Michael gets a pen in his hands, he can finish these forms and they’ll be on their way to becoming parents.
Michael’s going to be a father.
Suddenly, it feels like something’s knocking him over – like a psychic wave of emotion, but no other alien is here, which means that it’s regular old human grief and love and worry and excitement combining into a singular tsunami.
“Alex,” he manages to eke out, his voice rough, searching for words he can’t find.
“Hey,” Alex murmurs, easing into Michael’s space to cup his cheek. “Hey, what is it? Michael, you’re crying,” he murmurs with worry thick in his words. He brushes away a tear with his thumb, then another, then settles for cupping his face. “Was I wrong? Was this not what you wanted?”
“Opposite way,” Michael croaks out. “It’s all I want.”
“Oh, Michael,” Alex exhales softly. He eases back, but only far enough that they’re eye-to-eye, with Alex’s bent good knee pressing into Michael’s. “Wanna talk about it, if you have the words?”
They’re all bubbling up inside of him, screaming to get out. For years, he’s buried them. He convinced himself that he’s not made of the stuff that makes a parent. He told himself he’s too much like Sanders and they would’ve rejected him at first sight. On the other hand, he’s been desperate to have it, because it feels like the thing that makes up for his mother not being able to be there for him.
He wants to do it for Alex. He needs to do this for himself. There’s also a part of him that yearns beyond explanation to do it for Nora, because she couldn’t. He knows his mother loved him more than anything, but she didn’t get enough time with him.
There are kids out there who don’t have parents to give them that kind of love whether from a lack of ability or a lack of caring.
Michael and Alex can be that for them, though. They can be parents. They can be good parents.
“Nora couldn’t bring me out because it was dangerous. My mother loved me and couldn’t have me. Sanders couldn’t adopt me because they said he wasn’t the kind of guy who could raise a child. He loved me and couldn’t have me either.” Michael inhales to steady himself, tapping the forms on his lap. “Once I sign this, and I’m gonna do that in the next ten minutes, we get to be parents for kids who need love and couldn’t get it.”
It’s something they both understand all-too-well. They’re working on a deficit of experience, but a surplus of desire.
“So, you’re happy about this?” Alex checks, his brow furrowed, and just the slightest edge of panic on his face.
Michael can’t blame him. He buckled them into an emotional roller coaster and the cart is barely back at the station. He cups Alex’s cheeks with both hands so he can pull him in for a kiss, peppering soft kisses to his lips to show just how happy he is.
“It is all I ever wanted,” he says again, for good measure. “Get me a pen. I’m not waiting another second, I wanna get on these lists today.”
There’s a lot of love out there to give and Michael is ready to be the one giving it.
He’s not sure where he is. It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s strange and yet, comforting in a way Michael can’t put a name to.
Then, he looks up and sees the stars and he knows that he might not know where he is, exactly, but he’s surrounded by the very things that make him feel like he’s at home. Constellations burn bright above him in the inky darkness and soon, Michael realizes that he’s not alone in the nothingness.
“You mixed them up. Half of these are Earth’s constellations. Half from Oasis.”
Michael will always regret not getting more time with his mother. Even here, in this dream, her face is a bit of a blur. He’s been desperately trying to find more photographs of her and while they’ve managed to find a few old ones in the archives from Tripp, it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, because they never got to be the family that either of them wanted.
Still, he’s happy that he can have her here
“Are you really here?”
Nora gives him a fond look, cupping his cheek. “Why are you asking me questions you already know the answer to?”
Of course she’s not real. She’s yet another manifestation of his mother’s love that he can only muster up in dreams and memories. It looks like his subconscious is after some kind of validation tonight.
“I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re here,” Michael says, even if Nora is blurry around the edges. Isobel works with him as often as they can so they can revive as many memories as possible, but she’s busy with her women warriors and Michael’s got the foster kids now.
Which, if he’s clever (and he’s really fucking bright), he’s guessing that’s why he’s summoned her.
“I wish you could meet them,” Michael says, staring at the constellations above their heads. He’s seen the ones from Oasis for too short a time, from when he and Alex took their babymoon through the portal, but when he’d been there, it felt like he’d been walking in her shoes.
Now, he’s back on Earth in his and Alex’s home and they’ve added two bedrooms and two foster kids.
“I do too,” Nora says, brushing back an errant curl from Michael’s forehead. “I bet they’re going to give you just as much trouble as you gave me.”
“I just wish I could’ve given you a few more decades of being a pain in your ass,” he says, and in this moment, in this dream, his desire for a family of his own radiates as furiously as a supernova ready to explode. He wants his mother. He wants her to meet his children. He wants her to approve of Alex and not just torment him in a weird hallucination.
Nora cups Michael’s cheek, a sad smile on her face.
“We didn’t get what we deserved,” she agrees. “Your life’s not over, though.”
It’s unfair that hers is. Michael hates that she gave her life and he gets to live. She never got this happiness. She never got what he has.
“Michael,” she chides softly. “I don’t need what you have. I’m your mother. I just wanted to make the world a better place for you. I didn’t do it alone, but you have that. You have a life and a family and I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Michael knows this is a figment of his imagination, but it says so much that his subconscious is letting him have this. He deserves to be loved. He deserves to be married to a man like Alex. He gets to live the life his mother and her triad fought to give them. He gets to be happy.
He doesn’t want her to go. She always leaves too soon when he dreams of her and Michael is left with an ache of what almost-was, what he could-have-had, what might-have-been. None of that matters, because she’s not really here.
She’s stardust and energy and the universe, all in one.
Nora fades from his dream like all three at once, and then Michael’s alone, but not lonely.
He wakes and it’s dark, but not cold. Alex’s arms are snugly wrapped around him, but Michael is still half in the dream. His eyes are blurry with tears and he can feel the wetness on his cheeks as he inhales shakily, a wet sound like a sob trapped in his throat.
It’s enough to wake Alex.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I think I’m all messed up because everything is right.”
He can’t see Alex’s face in the dark, at least not well, but he can sense his confusion through the psychic bond they’ve slowly been carving out over the years.
“Is that a bad thing?”
The last vestiges of the dream slip away. He remembers that he’d dreamt about his mother, but he doesn’t remember what she’d said or what they’d talked about. All he remembers is her smile.
It’s more than enough.
“No, baby, it’s just a new thing.”
“We’re all kinds of new things,” Alex mumbles, dragging Michael back in towards the warmth of his body. “Isn’t that what you keep telling me?”
“Yeah,” Michael agrees, wrapping himself around Alex protectively, kissing the curve of his neck. “New and glorious things. Now, c’mon, back to bed. You promised the kiddos french toast in the morning and I am not disappointing them. Those sad eyes of theirs make me cry, secretly.”
“Not a secret,” Alex mumbles sleepily.
In retribution, Michael kisses just a little harder. This is his happy life and he’s going to enjoy it and make sure that he takes the love his mother felt for him and let it burn bright as long as he can while he works to make his childrens’ life as good as it can be.
He’s got a legacy of love to pass on, after all.
One day, Michael won’t be here on this planet anymore and neither will Alex. They’ll have lived and loved and burnt as brightly as they could. One day, that energy that once shone as bright as a sun will be someone else’s love in a decade, a century, even a millennia.
Because nothing is created and nothing is destroyed.
Michael watches Alex as he hums to the radio, leaning on the counter while he cooks dinner (refusing Michael’s help with the threat of a wooden spoon to his hand). He’s overflowing with love, so warm that he thinks he might go supernova.
One day, this love will belong to someone else.
One day, this will be someone else’s too-rapid heartbeat around the man they love.
For right now, though, it’s Michael’s and he plans to enjoy every single minute of it.