#lambourngb

33. “No one is perfect”

The Wild Pony was packed, the open mic night crowd different than the usual townies but they still wanted a drink. Alex thought the crowd would save him from the questioning coming his way. The line at the bar was three deep, but Maria had staffed the night with everyone she could. From his spot at the end, Alex could see Max smile as he opened another can of some microbrew that Alex refused to try and Michael called shit.

He cut that thought off quickly. It didn’t particularly matter what Michael thought of a beer, not on open mic night, the night reserved for him and his boyfriend to bond.

Alex felt the chair at his side move. He didn’t turn his head away from Max at the far side of the bar.

“You can pretend you don’t see me all you like,” Maria teased from his side, “but I know you know I’m here.” She gave him a soft elbow to the side. He didn’t try to hide his smile at that.

“Hey Maria,” he said as he leaned in to give her a little shoulder tap. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see the neon crown her head in light. “It’s packed in here,” he said. The ‘why aren’t you behind the bar?’ left unsaid.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want her here. Honestly, she was one of the few people he wanted near him when he was in a mood. It was more that he knew she wouldn’t leave him be to pick at his scabs, knew she’d ask him about them to try and let them heal a little more cleanly. Sometimes he just wanted to scratch until it bled and he could say he was doomed from the start.

Alex could feel Maria’s eyes on him, could imagine the little squint to her face that happens when she uses her powers. Still, all he could really see was the neon in her hair out of the corner of his eye.

“If you’re this miserable, why are you still with him?”

Alex stilled. He hadn’t expected the direct approach. Which, really, he should have. Maria was only indirect when she wanted to avoid something too.

“I’m not miserable—" Alex started before he cut himself off. What was the point of lying when you knew the truth and the other person was psychic? Psychic and your best friend? “Me being miserable is not his fault.” Alex tried again.

“Being with him isn’t helping your misery though,” Maria pointed out, hand stretched out to grab his. Alex moved his hand off the bar and to his lap.

“He’s a nice guy.”

“I never said he wasn’t. But he’s not right for you and pretending otherwise won’t change that.”

“He may not be right, but no one’s perfect. I’m not perfect either.”

Maria moved so that she faced him fully. Alex closed his eyes and moved so that he faced her too. He set his hands palm up on his knees. She grabbed them in a light hold.

“We’re not looking for perfect here Alex,” she said as gently as she could. “But there’s someone out there who you love and want to be with. And he loves you and want to be with him too. Pretending that you don’t want to be with him is just making things worse.”

Alex took a deep breath and held it. He closed his eyes for a moment before he squeezed Maria’s hands. “I’m scared that it won’t work out again. We’re doomed to fail.”

Maria kept her gaze sincere, but Alex could see a smile in the corner of her mouth.

“It will work out,” she said with confidence.

“Oh, did you foresee it?”

She full out laughed. Alex laughed too. It was nice. He hadn’t felt like laughing for a while.

“No dumbass, I promised you I’d never look. No, I know it will work out because both of you want it. And because both of you now know how to fight for it.” She smiled. “Neither of you give yourselves enough credit.”

Alex had to give her that. She wasn’t wrong. He took his left hand out of hers and reached for his beer. He took a sip.

“You’re right, as always,” he said as he rolled his eyes.

“I know I am.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “And no one is perfect, but I’d say maybe he’s perfect for you.” She stood up after that, winked, and ducked back under the bar.

Alex shook his head at her and moved to face the bar again. He felt a body at his back and tensed.

“Is this seat taken?” He relaxed. He turned and faced Michael.

“As a matter of fact,” he said as Forrest’s poetry echoed through the bar, “I was saving it for you.”

---

“This wasn’t what I had in mind.” Alex blinked down at Michael, who was sprawled across the bed sideways, his chin propped in one hand, completely and utterly naked.

“Really? So when you said ‘let’s have a quiet night in,’ you meant—” 

Alex chuckled, perching on the edge of the bed to remove his boots and socks. “I don’t know, a fire in the fireplace, maybe read a few chapters of my book before heading to bed early?” 

Michael frowned, but made no effort to cover up. “Oh. So… do you want me to put my clothes back on?” 

Alex’s hands stilled where they’d moved to begin unbuttoning his jeans, and he looked at Michael over his shoulder. “Definitely not. I recognize a better idea when I see one.” He twisted around enough to capture Michael’s lips in a kiss, one that promised anything but a quiet night. “The book can wait.”

38. Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss. 

The dirt crunches under Alex’s tires as he drives through the gate to Sanders’ Auto, and he keeps going until he sees a familiar pair of boots peeking out from under a grey crossover. He parks close by and grabs the brown paper bag sitting on his passenger seat before he gets out of his car.

The noise must draw Michael’s attention because when he’s in Alex’s line of sight again he’s no longer under the car, but sitting up on the creeper beneath him and wiping his hands on the dirty rag he keeps tucked into his pocket.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Michael drawls, setting the rag down on the floor.

Alex smiles and shakes his head as he keeps walking closer.

“You forgot your lunch,” he answers, holding up the bag. “Again.”

“Well, would you look at that,” Michael grins, barely sparing his packed lunch a glance and all but confirming Alex’s suspicions that Michael has been doing this on purpose. “It’s just about time for my break too,” he continues lazily, leaning back on his hands to give Alex an unobstructed view of his shiny new belt buckle.

“How convenient,” Alex muses, trying and failing to keep his eyes on Michael’s face.

“How about we head over to the Airstream and I thank you properly?” Michael proposes, letting his legs fall open invitingly as he looks Alex up and down, his desire plain on his face.

Alex glances across the yard to where the Airstream glints in the sunlight, more or less abandoned now that Michael’s moved in with him. The temptation to stay for a quick nooner is stronger than Alex would care to admit—the Airstream’s right there and Michael looks like a goddamn centerfold all spread out for him with his shirt damp with sweat and stained with engine grease—but, unfortunately, Alex has a lunch date with Greg that he will absolutely not be able to keep if Michael gets his pants off and, honestly, standing up the brother who killed your father in order to save the man you love is kind of a dick move.

Besides, if Michael’s going to keep preying on Alex’s good nature so he can lure him all the way out here for sex, it’s only fair he makes him wait for it a little longer.

“So, what do you say?” Michael asks, tired of waiting for Alex to make a move. He pushes himself up off the creeper and steps forward into Alex’s space, his eyes fixed on Alex’s mouth. “Wanna take me for a ride before you go?”

“Can’t,” Alex says regretfully.

“Why not?” Michael whines as his fingers work their way into Alex’s belt loops.

“Greg’s waiting for me,” he explains.

Michael’s answering pout is a force to be reckoned with, but Alex manages to hold his own. He laughs and pulls Michael closer, breathing in that trademark mix of rain and motor oil.

“I love you,” he says and presses a kiss to Michael’s lips that is decidedly chaste. Michael sighs happily and melts against him in response, his pout disappearing in spite of his disappointment. “And I’ll see you at home.”

Just as Alex expects, Michael’s face is taken over by a soft and brilliant smile.

I’ve been sitting on the idea for months. I am not sure that I’ll ever actually write it because I’ll want to make sure that I’m being responsible and respectful about the story and not perpetuating any harmful stereotypes or tropes, but I am also intrigued by the challenge something like that presents. My idea was to write a fic where both Alex and Michael were sex workers who fell in love, and thus, avoid the whole trope where one character ends up saving another. I don’t have much written, but here is something I did have

-

“Okay, do you want to tell me what the hell that was?” Michael asks once they are sitting down at a booth and have placed their order with the waitress. The diner isn’t much, but they’ve got large plates for reasonable prices and Michael isn’t paying so he may as well fill his stomach. 

“It sounded like you needed help,” the man says to which Michael can only snort and roll his eyes. 

“It’s called kink and that was one of my best paying clients,” Michael argues. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve already said that, it’s why I offered to buy you a meal to make up for it,” he says, clearly frustrated. 

“You think that you’re gonna make up for what I would have made tonight with a plate of eggs and some bacon?” Michael laughs. “Hardly.” 

“Listen, I get it. But it’s not unreasonable to have thought that you needed help. You were literally screaming for it,” he argues, his eyes daring him to challenge the statement. 

“And so what? You’re like some Richard Gere knight in shining armor type? This my Julia Roberts moment?” Michael asks. 

The man rolls his eyes. “I’m not trying to save you, I’m in the same line of work as you,” he says. “I get it. It pays the bills. I just thought…” 

“You just thought?” Michael asks when the man trails off. 

“I’ve been there. With the clients who don’t accept no and push for more than you’ve negotiated. I just… I thought I was helping. I can see how I should have minded my own business like I always do.” 

Michael hears him mumble to himself, “last time I ever try and stick my neck out for somebody.” And the sheer annoyance in the muttering endears Michael to the man a bit. 

But only a bit. Because that really had been a high paying job and now Michael’s gonna have to figure out a way to make that money up somehow. 

“What’s your name?” Michael asks. 

“Pete,” the man says and Michael snorts. 

“Pete Wentz? Cute. What’s your real name?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, daring him to answer truthfully. 

The man doesn’t respond right away, he looks Michael over, sizing him up, before he finally says, “Alex.” 

“Michael.” 

Look at that swimmer's back!

i! am! so! tired!

yes to all of this. imagine how beautiful a scene could be where michael says “you wanna hear something crazy? i was convinced aliens had to be the superior species until you came into my life and changed it just through that one act of kindness. you’re incredible” i mean whether theyre together at that point or not.....i need it

and i also want to see alex tell him he’s a good person to his face,,,,say with words on purpose some of the things he said in the song,,,,,

for you? of course!

“I could give you the handprint,” Michael suggests. “It’d let you feel my - feelings.”

Alex frowns. “I thought those were only left behind when you healed someone? Or killed them?”