Chapter Text
The next night, Michael succeeded in forgetting about Alex. It was almost like that night at the Pony when he had called Alex to vent to him had never happened. They had never shared the same breathing space, had never held hands like they’d never wanted to let go.
Michael had decided to go out with both Max and Isobel for drinks at the local bar which would be the site of the open mic night soon. The pod squad was feeling confident about their ability to manipulate the donations so that they could win the prize to see the CrashCon artifact. It was taking up all of their focus. The event had even taken precedence over an alien investigation.
Alex had made a connection regarding Louise and the reservation where his mother had grown up. Isobel told him all about it, that she had been there at the Crashdown when he had found a photo of Louise as an old woman stashed in his uncle Tripp’s favorite booth. Alex had called a relative to organize a road trip to the reservation so they could find out about what Louise had done while she’d been there. However, since the open mic night was coming up, the trip had to be put on hold for a while.
So, the three of them were taking a much-needed breather by throwing back some drinks. Max was happy, smiling, on a rare night when Liz was busy and he wasn’t stuck to her side. The Pony was a lively, comforting atmosphere.
Michael had hoped to find Maria there. She would be a great and welcome distraction. More than that, perhaps Michael would’ve been able to tell her that he wanted something more from their relationship. A few drinks in and he was feeling more confident. Perhaps he could wait the night out and see if she came later.
And yet, he was content just being here with Max and Isobel. The longer the night went on, the more fun he was having connecting with his siblings.
Isobel had recently discovered another side to her sexuality and she was really enjoying sharing those details with her brothers, sometimes to their annoyance or embarrassment. Michael was riding a pleasant buzz as the night wore on.
His mood was abruptly soured when a certain blue-haired poet walked into the bar. His siblings must’ve instantly been able to spot the shift in Michael’s demeanor.
“Look, man,” Max said, smirking at him, “I don’t like outsiders as much as you do, but he seems like a nice guy. I’m sure Alex can handle him.”
“Oh yeah,” Michael spat, laying on the sarcasm, “he’s a nice guy. Of course, you’d like him– he’s a writer. He’s nice, he’s talented. Great event organizer! So, Iz would like him too! He’s just so great. So much…”
Michael clamped his mouth shut. He almost said what he was thinking, that Forrest was so much better than him. Forrest certainly seemed to act like he was, walking around all confident, telling him he had what he wanted, implying that he knew Alex better.
“Tell us how you really feel,” Isobel teased.
“I’m just not his biggest fan,” Michael threw out there, his arms spread wide.
“I think you’re projecting a dislike of him,” Max said, “because you don’t like who he’s partnering with for the contest.”
Isobel raised her eyebrows and said in mock shock, “Max, are you saying Michael is mad at himself and taking it out on someone else?!”
Michael glared at her and tried to look unamused at her implied accusation.
“We actually had a confrontation at his farm,” Michael said. “And it was clear we weren’t on the same side. Which isn’t an indication of spite or jealousy or whatever it is you’re implying…Okay? It just makes natural sense that farmers and cowboys don’t get along.”
“Yeah, right,” Max scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re trying to convince me that your argument was about who takes care of the land better, farmers or ranchers? Nowadays they’re basically the same thing.”
“There is a connotative difference!” Michael argued. “Cowboys are cooler.”
“And farmers and cowboys can’t be friends?” Isobel asked, holding up her co*cktail.
Michael shrugged. “Not in my experience.”
Shaking her head, Isobel said, “Michael, you just need to move on and forget about Alex and Forrest.”
“Yeah, especially since you’ve been glancing over at the bar all night looking for a certain owner,” Max said, giving him a pointed look. “If you’re moving on, then it’s great that Alex is too. In fact, according to Liz, Forrest and Alex mightbecome a thing.”
“What?” Michael spat. “What does she know?”
“Okay, see, this,” Isobel said, holding up a hand and indicating his reaction, “is what needs to stop. You need to think more positive.”
“What does that mean?” Michael asked, taking a sip of his drink.
As Isobel thoughtfully placed her glass down, Michael cringed, a little afraid of the answer. “Well, first off,” she said, straightening up in the booth where they were sitting, “I’d like to say a word for the farmer. He’s new. He’s different and exciting. That’s what is good for Alex. To move on. Because you, Michael, have also moved on.”
“That’s what I said,” Max added, taking a swig of his beer.
Isobel continued, “He brings a lot of changes. And that can be scary, especially as he’s sort of involved in our little alien plot. But, this change can be good. He represents a new phase. It’s like he’s building a healthy barrier between you and Alex.”
Max hums.
Flicking an eyebrow at him, Michael huffed, “What?”
“I don’t know,” Max shrugged, “it’s…it’s more like he’s tearing down whatever you had. He’s drawing a line right through you. No more rancher. The farmer’s taking over.”
“That’s why cowboys hate farmers,” Michael spat. “They just come out west and start diggin’ up the dairy ranches. Just take over what was there before.”
“Well, then he’s plowing right over you,” Isobel teased, smirking. “I mean, Maria says he’s a good guy. He organizes the open mic night at the Pony. He’s not one of the dirty redneck regulars who drinks too much. In fact, she said she seldom sees him drink.”
“He probably only takes the free drinks for performers at his own events,” Michael quipped.
Max gave him a sad look. Sometimes Michael really hated that expression. Michael associated it with pity. For a lot of years, Max would look at his brother like that as if he felt sorry for him and a little guilty. After a moment, he said, “Look man, you’ve had a rough go of it. I know you’ve always felt lonely. So, you deserve to be with someone who you really care about who won’t make you feel that way anymore.”
Rolling his eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed, Michael snorted a response with a hint of self-loathing. “I feel sorry for the unlucky person who takes on that responsibility.”
Isobel sported a sympathetic look and said, “I think you should be friends with Forrest, not enemies. You both have things in common. You got along when you met in the library.”
Max scoffed and added, “Yeah, a lot in common… like falling for Alex. They can be tight as long as Alex is out of the picture…which is never.”
Michael had a worrying feeling that maybe Max was right. Would Michael ever be able to have normal feelings about Alex potentially being with someone else? When Noah had died, Michael had confessed to Isobel that he loved Alex and probably always will. But what did that mean for them in a world where they were seeing other people?
Pushing past her brother's objections, Isobel said, glancing over at Forrest by the bar counter, “Hey, there he is. You should go over there. Be sociable with him. Why not go up and make him feel welcome? Be friendly.”
“Yeah, sure,” Michael said, sarcastically, “I’ll just do that… at least Alex isn’t here and he’s safely away from him.”
“He’s good for him, don’t you think?” Isobel insisted. “What, you think you’d be better for him?”
Slamming his drink on the table, Michael declared, “Hey, I’m not saying I’m better than anybody else. But I’ll be damned if I’m not just as good.”
“That’s the spirit,” Max said, raising his bottle.
“You could use the excuse that you wanna patch things up before the contest,” Isobel suggested. Damn, she was being really insistent. Maybe she had a point. If he really wanted to move on, he needed to put these petty feelings behind him.
Snorting and making a face, Michael reluctantly swung his body out of the booth and slowly made his way over to the bar.
“Hey, Forrest,” he said as he slid up, resting an elbow on the bar.
“Guerin,” he nodded, curtly.
Michael probably should’ve expected that. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Sorry about before…You’re not a bad guy…I just… I just wanna say you better treat Alex right.”
The words felt bitter on his tongue. The idea of anyone trying to treat Alex like he deserved seemed wrong. Because no one deserved him. Still, he tried for a neutral expression.
Forrest didn’t seem to take offense. He stared at Michael consideringly. Then, he shrugged. “Not sure there is anything between us.”
Hope flared in Michael’s chest. “Oh? That’s not what I hear.”
Michael tried for a light tone, but inside he was praying that Liz had gotten her facts wrong. He watched intently as Forrest debated on what to say.
Eventually, he sighed and muttered, “Alex can’t seem to get out of his own way. Not willing to be himself or do what he really wants. I don’t wanna jump into someone else’s closet.”
Michael swallowed. “Oh.” His mind wandered back to circ*mstances where Alex had been resistant to the idea of people finding out about them or of being seen in public together. It’s possible that most of that wasn’t Michael-related, but more to do with Alex’s own history.
“Yeah,” Forrest drawled. “Not sure I’d wanna be in a relationship like that…I mean, who would?”
Something snapped inside Michael and anger instantly rose to the surface. He recalled the last time someone had walked in on Alex after an intimate moment and then they had physically attacked him. His mind whirled, remembering Alex’s words, laced with fear. If Alex was taking things slow or keeping things behind closed doors, then he had some pretty good reasons.
Michael tried defending him. “He’s not- it’s more complicated than that.”
Eyeing Michael curiously, Forrest seemed to be making an assumption. “Uh huh,” he said, dismissively.
Whatever Forrest deduced, possibly something about Michael, it wasn’t right. Michael responded, “You don’t know what he’s been through or why he’s hesitant about that stuff. You have no right to talk about him that way!”
At Michael’s outburst, Forrest visibly became more agitated and defensive. He straightened his back and glared at the cowboy. “Well, you don’t exactly treat him any better. From what I’ve seen, all you do is expect things from him and take advantage of him. God forbid you make him feel more comfortable about who he is. Maybe it’s guys like you who are the reason he still hides himself in the closet.”
That was too far.
Before Michael could think logically or stop himself, his fist collided with the side of Forrest’s face. Somebody shouted. And next thing he knew, Michael was fending off the guy who had charged at him and was fighting back. Michael threw more punches and he wasn’t even sure if they were landing.
It was all a blur and then it was over. He felt Max’s grip on his shoulder pulling him back and he heard Isobel’s voice shouting over the crowd of people who had formed around them.
“Hey, guys!” a male bartender shouted from behind the counter. Michael vaguely recognized him as one of the guys Maria hired to work her off days and busy nights. “Break it up!” He snapped a rag in their direction as if to put an invisible barrier between them. “Nobody is gonna slug out anything in this bar! Both of you take it outside and then leave!”
His blue hair askew, Forrest was looking at him with a bored expression, like continuing the fight or retaliation was beneath him. It only made Michael more enraged. What, was he too sophisticated for a messy bar brawl? He hadn’t shied away a second ago.
With one last look of contempt in that guy’s direction, Michael turned on his heel and headed toward the exit. He could tell that Max and Isobel were following him.
Once he stepped outside the doors into the chilly fall night air, Michael snorted to Isobel, “Still think the farmer and the cowboy can be friends?”
