Alex Manes

From: https://bakerstreet.dreamwidth.org/5609734.html?thread=2455613958#cmt2455613958

Alex didn't do gay bars a lot. Sometimes, sure, when he had an itch to scratch, but it wasn't his usual social scene. They always reminded him of another bar in another town and they always ended up falling short. He definitely didn't make plans to meet someone there, so it was a bit of a novel thing.

But there'd definitely been a lot of flirting and if the guy kind of reminded him of an older version of someone else, that was a fact buried so deep in his subconscious that the thought never crossed his mind.

He was the first to arrive and so he ordered a beer and angled his seat to watch the people entering.

In a way, it was a relief to be out of his Roswell. At least here he could be himself without running into his father's disappointment every other step.

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The In Between was more laid back than some of the flashier bars on the mainland. It reminded Bass of a beach bar he and Miles had found in Myrtle Beach one year, with a bit more flare. Bass told Miles not to wait up, and got an eye roll and pillow thrown at his head, and made his way downtown with a grin.

He hadn’t started the flirting with any real intent, but he liked Alex. He was funny, and handsome, and also military. Bass didn’t know that much of his story, but he got a small-town vibe from him, thought they might have more than the military in common.

If nothing else, maybe he’d make a friend. One with benefits would be nice - he wasn’t ready to settle down (he had a promise to keep), but the bar scene got old.

He saw Alex at the bar as soon as he stepped in, and flashed him a smile as he made his way over.

“You found it, so I see your navigation skills are adequate,” he said by way of greeting.

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The quip was returned with a rolled eye and a return smile. "You mean I know how to use GPS? Yeah, I think I've got that figured out." Even though he never quite consciously saw the similarities - or maybe didn't want to - there was always something about Bass' smile that got to him. "With what I'm learning, I could reprogram yours to send you wherever I wanted you to go. Remotely."

Okay, to be fair, that was something he'd only seen in the movies so far, but he was learning programming and it was entirely possible that the GPS could be remotely accessed. Or would be remotely accessed given how everything seemed to be moving online.

He lifted his bottle at Bass and waved at the bartender to bring him over. "Beer?"

Yeah, it was something about that smile that relaxed him a little and he let go of the straight posture that had been drilled into him and leaned back against the bar.

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"You never can tell with you kids these days," Bass said, knowing it was a ridiculous statement, both because the age difference wasn't really that much, for adults, and because, if it were, the tech limitations would go the other way.

On the other hand, Miles was also, technically, a Millenial, and he still had a flip phone.

He ordered a beer from the bartender, as well, leaning his side up against the bar, so he could face Alex.

"And that's an impressive skillset you're learning there. Of course, I'm a Marine. They teach us to navigate the old-fashioned way solely because of people learning to do things like that."

He accepted the beer with a smile for the bartender, then focused back on Alex. "Remind me where you're from?"

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"Clearly you've never driven around in the middle of the desert. You're lucky if GPS knows about the main roads let alone the fact that half the roads outside of town are dirt. You look at your map there and it's like you're driving in the middle of nothing." Plus there was everything that his father had put him through, but the less said about the head Manes man of the family, the better.

"Roswell." He switched the beer to his left hand and offered his right with the fingers split like the Vulcan greeting from Star Trek, only like a handshake. "I'd say 'nanoo, nanoo', but Mork and Mindy is probably too young of a show for you, Gramps." Also a ridiculous statement because it would have been shown before either of them were both.

Clearly they were both still in the same good form that they'd been in for their texts.

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"Driving is not my MOS," Bass agreed. "We got the Army boys for that. And they probably use GPS." They were Army, after all. "But I've done two tours in Iraq, so. I do have some experience in the desert."

Which was...not what he wanted to talk about, because it was not in any way, shpae or form, a collection of good memories. For a few seconds, shadows darkened his eyes, and he had to take a moment, visibly push them away, take a drink of his beer and focus on the fact that he was here, in Hawaii, with a hot airman making jokes about aliens and Bass's advanced age of 30.

He laughed, and it was only a little hollow, and met the extended hand with his own and a teasing brush of fingers through and over each other. "My mom loved that show." He let the comment about his age go without retaliation for now--probably more a sign of the shaking off of memories than anything else. "I've driven through Roswell, once, on our way from Vegas to Texas. Went to the museum, had a milkshake at the diner, then were on our way. Small town, but still about three times as big as where we grew up."

He forgets sometimes that not everyone knows who he means by "we."

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"I'm not talking about Iraq, I'm talking about my home town." Alex frowned for a minute because he wouldn't. This wasn't a date, exactly, but unless you were discussing actual war stories with a buddy, there were some things you just didn't do. But then Bass' fingers brushed his and the frown was replaced by a small grin.

"So you met my friend Liz's dad, then. And the only reason the town is that big is because it's Roswell. At least half the population are the local and not-so-local UFO freaks."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Really? I kind of got an only-child vibe from you." Being the youngest of his brothers, he definitely knew the difference.

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"I figured, but that's my only real desert experience. I mean, it's pretty desolate, but you can't say that the way to Vegas isn't very well marked," Bass said with a careless smile. "UFO freaks have got to be more interesting than the descendents of Scots and German farmers who are still farming the same land their ancestors did. Our only claim to fame is that Lincoln spent his childhood fifteen miles south of town."

Bass's smile faltered again, but then steadied, as he shook his head. "No, I had two sisters." Past tense, there. "But I meant me and Miles. Uh - Staff Sergeant Miles Matheson, if you've met him. My roommate and best friend. We grew up together, enlisted together. Most people sort of just lump us into Matheson-and-Monroe. The Corps figured out it was best to keep us together--more effective that way."

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Alex nodded like he knew about that kind of relationship. The first guy he'd been close to dropped him as soon as the word 'sex' stopped being a nose-wrinkling word and as soon as it became clear that Alex Manes had deviated from the usual 'Manes man' ideal. The other... The other was complicated and why Alex often felt as if he'd left a piece of him behind in a place he'd always wanted to leave.

"Believe it or not, I never made it to Vegas. Sometimes it seems like I had my high school prom and then I was here."

He looked at the door and to the city outside. "Although, I've got to admit. Here is pretty nice." It wouldn't stay that way he knew, but seize the day and all that, right?

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Bass was afraid of Miles dropping him when he came out, but. Miles had been punching bullies who made Bass cry since first grade--until Bass learned to fight back and then became the town darling with his baseball skills. When Bass confessed he thought he liked guys as much as girls, Miles shrugged and said, "Yeah, your tongue down Billy Anderson's throat behind the bleachers kinda gave that one away. You can do better." Hell, Miles hadn't even been properly pissed when Bass knocked up his fiancee. Everyone knew they came as a package deal--you couldn't love one without loving the other, though possibly he and Emma had taken that farther than intended.

He chuckled a bit. "You should go, sometime. Everyone should go, at least once. Though here is definitely better than most other places." Better than home, where Bass never went anymore--Emma brought or sent Connor to him. "Do you surf?"

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"I skateboard, so I guess I understand some of the concept?" Except it was probably one thing to have steady ground under your feet and another to have the wildness of the water. He contemplated his beer and took another sip. "I used to skateboard, I guess." There were a lot of things he'd given up doing. Like he carried a guitar around with him, but he hadn't played since leaving Roswell. Every time he tried, he felt pain in his hand that didn't exist.

Nostalgia was a bitch sometimes.

"Why, you offering to tutor me?"

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From here: https://bakerstreet.dreamwidth.org/5609734.html?thread=2455471110#cmt2455471110

Why do...never mind. I'm on my way.

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From here: https://bakerstreet.dreamwidth.org/5609734.html?thread=2455520774#cmt2455520774

So it wasn't just that Michael was being extremely dense, it was that he was being an idiot. Fine, then. If he was going to be an asshole, Alex could be one right back. He understood that the concept of him knowing and his father knowing was new, but it wasn't like Alex head wasn't boggled by the idea, too.

"Yes, Guerin," he said flatly. "I've been harboring a secret thing for Max. I can't help it. It's that drawl and those shoulders. Get to me every time."

He was half-tempted to shove Michael out the door. Instead, he caught the back of Michael's jeans and pulled him back in.

"I thought you were supposed to be smart."

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Good, because I'm back at the truck and I might be starting without you.

Sure you don't want to send a picture?

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At the touch of Alex's hands to his jeans, Michael closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to get a hold of himself. He told himself that Alex was only trying to get him back, but it still made his body warm all over, like a flush of want and shame combined. He let his chin fall to his chest, shaking his head like he couldn't believe Alex still had this much power over him.

Why was he so surprised? It was Alex.

"I need to take you outside and you need your crutch," Michael said again with a long-suffering sigh, because if he was going to be honest about this, he needed to be honest about everything. "Please," he added, but it was quieter and about as sincere as he got. If he was going to lay all his secrets out, he needed to do it without the temptation to pin Alex to the bed and make him forget why he'd come here.

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"For a lot of people, finding their balance is the hardest part--but skate or snowboarding has similar center-of-balance, so it just becomes timing and getting up. Getting up's not that hard to learn, so, really, it's just learning the timing." Bass shrugged, took another pull of his beer.

"I'm just trying to get to know you," he said after a moment, with another smile. "But I'd be happy to show you what we've learned. Can't say I'm an expert, but I manage to catch most of the waves I try for now, at least."

He leaned in just a bit, as someone pushed to the bar behind him. "So--you're in Hawaii. You don't surf. What do you like to do for fun?"

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Alex's eyes dropped down to Bass' mouth which pretty much summed up what he'd been doing with his free time. Not that he had sex all that often, but mostly because he made sure he didn't have free time. Free time would lead to thinking would lead to regrets and he had too many of those.

"Haven't really done anything, yet," he admitted, lifting his eyes again without embarrassment. It wasn't like Bass didn't already know he was interested in at least an abstract way.

"Mostly just computers. I can be a bit of a nerd. With the exception of meeting mostly-strange old men in bars." His grin was cheeky.

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You're mine, Guerin. If you finish without me, you're going to be sorry.

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I'm yours, am I?

I don't know, now I'm tempted to see what kind of punishment you've got in mind.

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Maybe I'll just go home and jerk off there.

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Fair. That's a fair, and shitty punishment. I'm hands off. Promise. I'm just gonna sit here, hard and think about you and not touch myself. Somehow.

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Bass certainly wasn't complaining about the attention--his lips curved into a bit of a smirk, followed by a chuckle.

"And now I know at least one way you can benefit from my experience--you've gotta get out more, kid. You're living in paradise, on Uncle Sam's dime. He's gonna expect payback, so you might as well squeeze all the joy out of it that you can, so you've got memories of things to make you smile when you feel like there's nothing good left in this world." His tone stayed light, but there was real advice there, and the flicker of those shadows there and gone. He knew about having to find a way to survive--sometimes all you had was a promise you'd made to someone, but if you could remember what it felt like to smile, sometimes that was enough hope to help you claw your way back from the edge.

"Also, clearly, I need to find a way to move out of the 'mostly strange' category..."

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Alex moved in a little closer, too, and he didn't have the excuse that he was being shoved into it. "Best I think you can do is move out of old man category. Not fifteen minutes and I think you're stuck in the mostly strange box."

He smiled suddenly, a real one that was wider than the smirks and quick grinds he'd been giving up to now. "Good thing I like strange. I did grow up in a town where my first job was at the alien theater-slash-museum." Better to stay on that part of the conversation than to explain that he'd grown up in a war zone and that he'd had joy for a little while. Joy he'd sabotaged for Michael's own good. He hoped.

"But out of curiosity, what did you think you'd be able to do to move out if it?"

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"I don't," he said quietly. "Need the crutch." He used it and it helped, but he didn't need it. "It probably has a dent from my father's face in it anyway." But Michael had 'please'd him and so he followed Michael outside. He did wonder why Michael had dragged him inside only to pull him back out again, but he supposed he had his reasons.

Things with Michael were already so complicated. Out of all of them, Michael should have been the one who went off to go do something. Who changed the world. And he was learning that it was more complicated than he'd come to believe, but just staying in town when he clearly hated it here didn't make any sense.

Of course it never occurred to him that he hadn't explained to Michael how he'd found out about his father.

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