Alex Manes & Forrest Long

               It used to be a regular thing, about a year ago, to go through periods of time without so much as hearing from the airman, but after they’d started working towards finding out more about Nora and Louise, Michael had gotten used to getting a text or call from Alex at least every other day.

               After he and Maria had broken up, he’d expected to have heard a lot more from the airman, but he’d only turned more and more silent until eventually, Michael almost felt like Alex was going out of his way to avoid him. And he hated it.

               Maybe that was why, on a Saturday morning, when he knew Alex would be home, Michael found himself driving into Alex’s driveway. Hearing music coming from Alex’s backyard wasn’t unheard of, and Michael stepped out onto the back porch to find Alex curled up in one of the chairs, a guitar in his hands, and sitting across from him, looking casual and comfortable in sweats and a maroon cardigan was Forrest, working on something in his journal.

               They were speaking in whispers as Alex plucked away gently, the two smiling as if in secret conversation even from the birds. Michael felt his heart sink into his stomach, but he swallowed back the lump in his throat and raised his hand in greeting for Forrest to see him.

               “Oh hey,” the historian said with a kind smile, setting his journal down. Alex looked over his shoulder to see who Forrest was talking to. He saw Michael and gave a small smile, turning back to his guitar.

               “What’s up?” Alex asked with his back turned to Michael, his attention more focused on his notes.

               At Forrest gesturing to a chair beside them, Michael sat down, trying not to be bitter that Forrest felt enough at home to offer a seat to someone else. How many times had he been here anyway?

               “Is everything okay?” Forrest asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

               Michael plastered on a smirk, shrugged and said, “Everything’s fine. I just came to see Alex.”

               If Forrest was annoyed or worried about Michael coming all the way to see his boyfriend, he didn’t show it. On the contrary, he nodded, as if understanding that if one was upset or conflicted, the best thing to do was come see Alex.

               “Well, I’ll leave you two alone, then,” he said easily, closing his journal and handing it to Alex who took it with an almost shy smile, his cheeks turning red, as if he was being handed a rose. “I have to get to work anyway.”

               And he pecked Alex’s lips once, then the crown of his head, then walked off. Michael stared ahead, waiting until he was gone, his kisses to Alex playing on repeat in his head. When he heard Forrest’s car pull out onto the road and drive away, he turned to Alex.

               “You guys have gotten close,” he noted. He tried to keep the accusation out of his voice, but being who he was and feeling all he felt made it impossible.

               Alex nodded, then smiled softly and said, “I like to think so.”

He opened Forrest’s journal, his eyes scanning the page a moment before his smile widened slightly, his eyes brighter, a deeper blush rising up his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

               “Did he write you something?” Michael asked.

               “Sort of,” Alex said vaguely after having finished reading the latest page. He closed the journal, keeping it close by on the table as if afraid of letting it out of his sight, and returned to plucking away idly on the guitar.

               “So,” Alex said, “what’s going on? Why’d you come?”

               “I told you,” Michael said. “I came to –”

               “See me, yeah, I got that part,” Alex said with a sigh. “What for? What do you need?”

               Michael raised a brow, trying not to feel hurt. Did Alex think that Michael wouldn’t come unless he needed something? “I just wanted to see you, Alex.”

               “Well,” Alex shrugged, barely pressing his lips together in a neutral smile. “Here I am.”

               Michael stared. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, should’ve ignored Alex’s indifferent tone, should’ve just sat quietly and taken the chance to stare at the airman while he could. But then –

               “Why have you been avoiding me?” he asked, and Alex said nothing. Michael’s brows furrowed. “You’re not going to try to deny it?”

               “I haven’t come to see you,” Alex finally said after a moment of mindless plucking. “And I don’t have a reason to go to the Wild Pony anymore. I haven’t been avoiding you.”

               “But you don’t want to see me,” Michael insisted, and Alex did not object. Michael turned his whole body towards him, jaw clenched. He tried not to get angry, not to lose his temper. “Why?”

               Alex played the guitar a little more, the notes almost deafening in the silence between them. Then, he said, “You know, I’ve been giving a lot of thought lately to why we fell in love in the first place. Or … why I fell in love.”

               Michael searched Alex’s face, not daring to breathe. He wished Alex would just look at him.

               “Even when we were seventeen,” Alex shook his head, “you were impenetrable. You didn’t let anyone but Max and Isobel near you, you were smart, but you were cold and distant. You’ve always been like that, and I,” he chuckled, and Michael thought it was the saddest sound he’d ever heard, “I loved that about you. Because, deep down, you had the purest heart I’d ever seen.”

               At this, Alex’s voice turned barely higher than a whisper. “And I thought I was the only one who got to see that.”

               “Alex –”

               “Please, just,” his brows furrowed, and Michael saw his hand tighten around the neck of his guitar. “Just let me finish.” So Michael closed his mouth and waited.

               “With me, you were … different. You were so kind, so open and caring. So loving. It’s stupid, but … I felt special. Michael Guerin, keeping everyone at arm’s length … everyone but me.” He sighed, giving Michael a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I was wrong.”

               “You –” Michael shook his head, scooting forward so that his knee touched Alex’s thigh. “You weren’t wrong! Alex, you’re … you’re –”

               “You told Maria you love her,” Alex whispered, yet his voice, the misery of those few words, echoed. “You’ve never even said those words to me. When you guys broke up, I thought … I thought it was because …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I was wrong then, too. I keep getting it wrong.”

               Michael’s eyes burned. “Alex,” he said, “when I told her that, I – I didn’t mean –”

               “I don’t care, Guerin,” Alex said with a sad laugh, his eyes glassy, his voice trembling. “I don’t care why or – or how. You’ve never said those words to me.” He huffed, wiping furiously at his face once with his hand. “And – and I know it’s unfair and illogical and childish to be upset about this, to not be able to stand the sight of either of you anymore no matter how hard I’ve tried, and I have tried, but I,” he shrugged, “I don’t care. I can’t help it. Seeing you … makes me so miserable. And sad, and angry, and just – just thinking about the way you cared for her this past year, in a way you never cared for me. And she gets to be your girlfriend, and I get to be your super computer, and how long did you think that was going to be okay?”

Another helpless laugh. “I tried to fool myself into thinking that you and I were in love, and everything was eventually going to be fine, and at some point you would see that, and we’d be together –”

“But I do see that,” Michael tried desperately. “It’s you and me, it’s always been you and me, I believe that now!”

               “But I don’t,” Alex said quietly, and Michael turned to stone. “I don’t anymore. I need time, Guerin.”

               “Time away from me,” Michael dared him to answer, his voice rough.

               Alex nodded numbly, turning back to his guitar but not playing a thing. “Time away from you. Please leave, Guerin.”

               “Alex –”

               “Just go,” Alex said with a sigh, and returned to plucking away, Michael thoroughly dismissed.

               Michael slowly stood after it was obvious Alex would not listen to anything he had to say. And what could he say that would fix how Alex felt? Betrayed, abandoned, replaced. How would Michael possibly help any of that?

               As he turned to leave, he saw Alex gently pulling Forrest’s journal closer, as if taking comfort in playing for it. Alex’s smile slowly returned, but with a pang in his heart, Michael realized that it wasn’t for him.

***

Final two Chapters! 

Not gonna lie. I literally cried when I finished this. And I vowed to myself that I’d NEVER write a multi chapter ever again.

But anyway, I FINISHED IT. I feel so proud of myself. Also, I now realize that I’m not a writer, like at all. To quote Mr Alec Lightwood-Bane, “I dabble”.

Chapter 1  Chapter 2 

Chapter 3  Chapter 4

5. 

Forrest’s lease was up in two weeks, and he hadn’t even tried to look for a new apartment yet.

Thing was, he and Alex were practically living together, they just spent their nights alternatively in his apartment or Alex’s house, depending on their work schedule or the mood.

Besides, Buffy OWNED that couch in Alex’s house at this point. No lie, anyone who wanted to sit on that couch needed to ask for her permission, Alex included.

But Alex hadn’t asked him yet. And he knew about the lease thing, Forrest made sure of it.

So here he was, blew off Alex’s dinner request and sat in wild pony, alone and miserable, just because he didn’t know if his boyfriend, who he had dated almost seven months now, wanted to take the next step with him or not. It was a little pathetic to be honest.

“Maybe I should just ask him”, he murmured to himself, needing the outspoken words to give himself courage.

“Ask him about what?” Isobel suddenly appeared to his left.

“Jesus”, he was startled, and a little bit embarrassed. He and Isobel were sort of friends now, but talking about boy problems with each other? They were so not there yet. So he deflected. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Greg were going out tonight.”

Isobel considered him for a moment, eyes insightful. Forrest sometimes felt like she could see right through him, it was unsettling to say the least. But she played along, dropping the topic.

“Gee, what are you and Alex? Teenage besties? You tell each other every little thing in your life now? Including who one’s brother goes out with on any given day?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Forrest replied, deadpan, “What else would we talk about when we go to the bathroom together, hand in hand?”

“Hey, hey,” he sat down quickly beside him, wrapping him in his arms. Alex flinched at first at the contact, but quickly melted against Forrest’s chest, hugging his waist tightly.

“I’m fine,” Alex muttered even as he clung to Forrest. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t be sorry,” Forrest said into his hair. Alex had refused to fall back to sleep, and so the both of them sat down for pancakes, the sudden wake-up call forgotten.

The second time, Forrest was not there at all. He came at noon to visit Alex and the airman smiled and hugged him and nuzzled his neck and Forrest breathed him in. Then he pulled back and saw Alex’s red-rimmed eyes, the dark circles, the way his hands trembled slightly due to the exhaustion. And he knew his airman hadn’t gotten any sleep that night.

Still, Forrest didn’t ask, didn’t pry, just moved on with the day as Alex so clearly wanted to do himself. Forrest remembered thinking this airman was going to be a beautiful handful.

“Why are you laughing?” Alex asked in that moment.

“It’s nothing, baby,” Forrest said and pressed a kiss to Alex’s temple.

The third time, Forrest had been in bed with him. Having spent his own time in the military, Forrest was used to waking up at early hours of the morning, but he liked to stay up as late as possible, which sometimes meant that Alex would fall asleep hours before he did, and Forrest could alternate between reading his book and watching Alex’s sleeping face, the way his cheeks turned red against the warmth of the pillow and duvet, the way he breathed softly and his body curled slightly. The way he seemed, as he so often did not, finally at peace.

Until he didn’t.

At one point, Forrest glanced over as he heard a quiet whimper. Alex’s brows were furrowed and he was slightly shaking his head against the pillow.

Forrest set his book down. “Alex?” he asked softly. “Can you hear me?”

But Alex evidently could not. He whimpered again, turning over onto his back, then his side again.

Forrest reached down and just traced his finger from Alex’s forehead down to the tip of his nose. He did this repeatedly until Alex’s expression gradually turned rested, and Alex sighed deeply as he reached an arm over Forrest’s hips and hugged him in his sleep. Forrest smiled and quietly returned to finishing his chapter, one hand on his book, the other on Alex’s arm.

The fourth time, Forrest was getting ready for bed when it happened. He was slipping on his shirt and Alex, who had been sleeping on his back, whimpered once in his sleep and sat up with a gasp, eyes wide, trembling.

“Whoa, Alex, hey, it’s okay,” Forrest said as he sat at Alex’s bedside and tried to keep Alex still. Once his hands touched Alex’s shoulders, Alex flinched and tried to fight him off, still in a haze, but Forrest held on, and pulled him in for a hug.

“I know, I know, I know, it’s okay, I know,” Forrest kept repeating into his hair, holding him tighter with every passing second. Because he did know. He knew what it was like to leave that life but never really leave that life. To close your eyes and see fire and blood, to see yourself in trenches, your brothers dying in your arms, then wake up and think that this world, this world of peace and quiet and comfort, that was the real dream.

Forrest had seen others not know how to act around Alex at times, not notice him slipping off into memory ten times a day, not notice the way he flinches at loud sounds or people sneaking up behind him. But Forrest noticed, because he knew.

Slowly, Forrest led Alex back down into bed, his arms still tight around him.

“I don’t want to sleep,” Alex whispered a long moment later as Forrest’s eyes began to flutter shut.

“You have to,” he mumbled into Alex’s hair. “It’s past midnight and you’re exhausted.”

“’M not.”

The corners of Forrest’s lips quirked up. “Are too.”

“Maybe you should go sleep in your own bed,” Alex suggested after a pause.

Forrest shrugged, holding Alex closer. “Don’t wanna.”

“But you won’t get to sleep otherwise.”

“But you’re a lot warmer than my bed.””

“That can’t possibly be true.”

“You smell better, too,” Forrest said, inhaling his scent and sighing deeply against his hair. “God, you smell good.”

Alex huffed a tired laugh against his chest. “Stop making me laugh.”

“No, I like your laugh.”

“Why are you like this? You’re a Long, you’re not supposed to be this charming.”

               Forrest smiled. “Said the Manes.”

               Alex paused, then when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “I’m sorry.”

               “Don’t be sorry.”

               “It’s always so loud –”

               “Shh,” Forrest ran a hand up and down Alex’s back. “I know. I know.”

               “You do, don’t you?” he whispered and Forrest kissed his forehead.

               “Go to sleep, Cap,” Forrest whispered back. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

***

Rating: Explicit Words: 2,700+ Pairing: Forrest Long/Alex Manes Warning: Smut. Lots of Smut. Semi-public sex. You’ve been warned. 

Summary: Getting hot and heavy in the Wild Pony parking lot is a rite of passage. Alex and Forrest keep up this small town tradition.

Author Note: Am I proud of this? No. Is this my first time writing a full-fledged smut scene? Yes. Am I still going to post it? Guess so. Let it be known that I’ve never claimed to be good at writing smut, but I tried my best. This was also partially fueled by spite, because there’s apparently some Forlex hate going around and that just won’t do. 

forrest making alex smile

A day in Paris:

avoiding crowds & enjoying the Eiffel Tower  & the Arc de Triomphe from a distance

walking down the Champs-Élysées & eating their way through Rue Cler

walking hand in hand while wandering the cobblestone streets of Montmartre

watching the sunset from the stairs near Sacré-Cœur

taking a taxi back to the hotel because Alex’s leg is acting up

ordering room service & eating in bed

falling asleep in each other’s arms

2x08 / 2x13

“Hey.” Alex reaches for Forrest’s hand and squeezes it. Forrest smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Alex looks at Forrest and notices that he looks a little sad. A far cry from his normally cheery disposition. He had seemed off at dinner so Alex suggested a drink at the Pony, but now they’re sitting outside, listening to music, and Alex doesn’t know what is wrong.

“What’s bothering you?”

“It’s nothing.” Forrest says as he squeezes Alex’s hand back. Alex just raises an eyebrow, which usually gets a smile out of his boyfriend and he’s glad it does tonight.

“So it’s not nothing?” 

Forrest rolls his eyes but scoots his chair closer and leans his forehead against Alex’s shoulder. He mumbles something that Alex can’t hear so Alex chuckles and shakes his shoulder.

“What?”

Forrest sighs and picks his head up a little bit so Alex can look into his eyes.

“It’s the anniversary of Kate’s death.” Forrest whispers and Alex’s heart drops. Not only for forgetting that Kate died the same night as Rosa but that today is also the anniversary of the tool shed.

day 1 | prompt home can be a person | theme family + pets 

No Place Like Home (100 words)

Alex decided on a whim - okay it wasn’t really a whim - to go to the animal rescue shelter where Forrest had found Buffy. He was just going to look, get a feel for the different dogs there, see what sort of stuff he’d need to outfit his home, that’s it.