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Michael is winning this game.
It started one night in the parking lot of the Wild Pony a few years back, when Valenti first got back to town. He’d been drunk and angry and Valenti had been the exact right kind of punchable face Michael was looking for. Things got out of hand pretty quickly, though, when Valenti got both fists in Michael’s denim jacket and hauled him up against the wall of the Pony.
“Don’t start fights you can’t finish,” Michael warned.
“I can finish any fight,” Valenti hissed back at him.
Michael decided that playing dirty was the best avenue available to him, which was why he slid two fingers up the inseam of Valenti’s jeans. “Oh?”
He remembered prom. They all did. This seemed like the best way to goat Valenti into a good dragdown fight that they’d both enjoy, but Michael hadn’t counted on Valenti taking that as a challenge instead of a taunt.
“I’m not flinching,” Valenti insisted.
“Yeah? Well, neither am I,” Guerin declared, eyes bright and flashing with a determination that said he wasn’t going to lose.
Because in a game of gay chicken? Guerin will go down, but he’s not going to lose.
Kyle is winning this game.
Guerin might think he is, but he hadn’t really known Kyle when they first got started. The first few fucks, he knows Guerin kept waiting for Kyle to flinch or to freak out about the fact that he woke up at another man’s side, but Guerin was clearly missing the obvious. What kind of hardship was it to have great sex?
Besides, he’d grown as a person -- something he didn’t think Guerin had, and that’s why Kyle is going to win this game of gay chicken when Guerin folds, consumed by his hatred of Kyle. Until then, Kyle is going to keep taking him out on dates, keep bringing him back home, and keep kissing him in the middle of town.
Because he’s not folding. He’s not losing.
He might be new to this, now that he’s come back from college a different man, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less stubborn.
It doesn’t matter how long it takes.
Kyle’s winning.
Alex stares at the text on his phone, then glances up at the actual bed and breakfast he sees in front of him. “You’re sure this is Kyle’s place,” he says sharply, glancing at his boyfriend at his side.
Forrest nods, tangling his fingers with Alex’s. “I mean, yes?”
“Why don’t you sound sure?”
“You asked me to look up your old friend,” Forrest says, “and that’s how it led me down a really confusing rabbit hole that led me to this place.” That’s the problem. Alex is standing outside of The Anti-Gravity Inn on the outskirts of Roswell, which has an adorable child-like drawing of a dog on the sign.
Alex grabs the bags out of the trunk of their car, not knowing what to expect, but grateful that they’re not staying at either of their family’s places, because Alex really can’t stand the idea of having to face either the Manes or the Longs today. “I didn’t realize Kyle ran a bed and breakfast.”
“Yeah, that’s the weird part,” Forrest says. “He doesn’t.”
Alex squints at Forrest, confused, about to ask: Then who does?
He doesn’t get a chance. “Daddy!” a little girl shouts over her shoulder, barrelling down the path. “Daddy, the guests are here!” The girl looks about six years old, which is definitely too young to be attempting to pry Forrest’s suitcase out of his hands. “Hi!” she says brightly as she throws her arms into it, ignoring Forrest’s protests as she starts dragging the suitcase up the cobblestone walkway. “I’m Cat!”
Forrest looks endlessly charmed as he laughs. “I’m Forrest and this is my boyfriend, Alex.”
“I know! Papa hasn’t been able to stop talking about you since he saw the names on the reservation.”
Alex exchanges a curious look with Forrest.
She’d said Daddy and Papa.
“Does your Daddy run this place?”
“No,” she replies, grunting as she tugs the suitcase up the first step. “Daddy’s a doctor, but Papa wanted to buy the house and have guests in between his work on the farms. Daddy!” she screams over her shoulder, making Alex wince. “Daddy’s usually at the hospital, except on weekends, cuz he’s private practicing.”
“Catarina, I told you not to take people’s luggage like that,” says Kyle Valenti, hurrying down the stairs so fast it looks like he’ll trip.
He hauls the luggage in a way that shows off his biceps and it takes Alex a minute to remember that this is the same man who bullied him in high school, and for being gay at that. Suddenly, he’s got a boyfriend? Or a husband? There’s no ring on Kyle’s finger that he can see, but he’s also still wearing scrubs so maybe he hasn’t changed from his shift yet and put the ring back on.
Kyle’s halfway to picking up Forrest’s suitcase when he looks up and sees who the guests are.
“Shit,” he says, dropping the suitcases.
Cat giggles furiously, hiding behind Kyle’s leg. “That’s one of Papa’s bad words.”
“It definitely is,” Kyle agrees, gaping at Alex like he’s seen a ghost. “And Daddy is going to have words with Papa about not telling him who’s reserving rooms in our bed and breakfast. Can you go get him? He’s at the barn, working on the seeding mechanism. Tell him his guests are here.”
Cat goes running off in a flurry, which leaves Kyle to face the music.
“Years,” Alex says, coolly. “You spent years making my life a living hell because, what, you were too scared to come out? You were a homophobic bully living in the closet, like every stupid teen movie cliche?”
“Alex,” Forrest murmurs. “Easy.”
“It’s not…” Kyle sputters. “I don’t know how to…”
“Look, I’m here because I wanted to make amends,” Alex admits. “Once, you were my best friend, and I wanted to see if we could have that again. I just didn’t realize I was going to be confronted with your happy little playing house with your boyfriend and your kid in the process.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kyle protests. “Look, it’s hard to explain, but…”
“He just doesn’t wanna tell you that he’s losing the game,” a familiar voice calls.
Alex stares at Michael Guerin, in the flesh, wiping his hands off with a rag. He’s advancing towards them, real as anything, wearing a cowboy hat, a rough beard, and a pair of jeans that have seen better days.
“Game?” Forrest echoes, clearly as unnerved as Alex is. He wraps an arm around his waist, both to give him support and to hold onto him.
Michael smirks as he tips his hat to Forrest, draping an arm around Kyle’s shoulders. “Cat’s inside getting a snack ready for our guests,” he shares, kissing his cheek. “And yeah, game. One day, he’s gonna break, and then I’m the victorious winner of this epic game of gay chicken we’re in.”
They have a bed and breakfast.
They have a kid.
Alex is assuming they’ve definitely had sex.
And Michael thinks this is all just some game? Alex remembers him being a whole lot smarter when they were dating in high school, but that summer is so long ago that he barely remembers it. He follows them inside, watching the way Michael gropes Kyle’s ass and the way Kyle only barely protests.
“Are you okay?” Forrest whispers. “Michael’s your ex-boyfriend, right?”
“Yeah, we had a summer together, and I thought…” Alex trails off. He doesn’t know what he’d thought. It didn’t matter, though, did it? He and Forrest had connected while overseas and they’d started dating. By the time Alex got back to Roswell and the reunion, he and Forrest had been going strong for two years.
Michael Guerin is just a what-if, a hypothetical, a could-have-been.
He’s a maybe-something-almost that’s been playing house with Kyle Valenti all these years.
Alex is starting to wonder if he hit his head and he’s in the middle of a really fucked up dream, at this point, because he’s not sure how else to explain the fact that he’s watching Michael make out with Kyle Valenti, not to mention the presence of that little girl kind of implies daughter.
Michael parts from Kyle and smirks, nudging Forrest. “He looks good when his mouth is open like that, doesn’t he?”
“Guerin!” Alex yelps with mild outrage, brought back to Earth by the offense.
“Michael, go get them settled. Alex, I’m glad you’re here. I know you’re only booked in for a few days, but I want to make sure we use them to sort things out,” he says. “Forrest, come on,” he encourages. “I’ll show you guys into the main room.
Alex feels like he’s in a daze, but he follows. What else can he do? The bed and breakfast had looked really nice, he’s not about to leave because he’s absolutely mind-fucking-boggled with the reality before him. Michael takes the bags upstairs, and Kyle takes Alex’s boyfriend with him into the main room.
Alex, out of a sheer need to walk and get his brain to settle down, roams.
He ends up back at the bottom of the main stairs once he’s finished his grand voyage of this absolutely fucking maddening wonder of a bed and breakfast.
“I don’t get it,” Alex confesses, once he sees Michael begin his descent, bounding down the stairs now that he’s set up their bags.
While Forrest has been settling in with Kyle (probably trying to get gossip), Alex has been snooping around the house for any clues or signs that this is fake. He’s found a cozy kitchen and nice little bedrooms and a powder room that looks like plaid threw up in it.
It’s a nice family house.
The part Alex doesn’t get is that it’s Kyle and Michael’s family house. “Are you brainwashed? Is he?”
Michael shakes his head and leads Alex into the kitchen. “C’mon, help me make coffee. I heard Kyle bitching that he’s been working all day and that means he’ll need the caffeine to be a normal human being,” he says, and even if he’s complaining, there’s affection in his voice. Alex follows and leans against the breakfast nook.
He doesn’t even have to poke and prod. While Michael brews the coffee, he updates Alex with what’s going on -- what grade Catarina is in, where they work, what people in town have been doing. He asks Alex questions too, his eyes sliding over his body in a way that still makes Alex flush and prickle with the attention, even if he’s taken.
Michael Guerin is always going to have that effect on him, he thinks.
“So, you and Kyle?”
“One night at the Wild Pony, we ended up fighting. First, with words, then eventually fists sort of worked their way into it, and I figured it would feel good to beat the shit out of your high school bully.”
Alex raises both eyes, gesturing around him. “Is that what this is?”
“Sort of,” Michael says ruefully with a grin. “About halfway through, I figured out that beating him up might have been nice, but you know what was better? Making him as uncomfortable as I could possibly make him.”
Oh no, Alex feels like he can see where this is going.
“So I kept baiting him, only it wasn’t with punches. My hands are good, but my mouth is better.”
“Are you telling me,” Alex deadpans, “that you and Kyle got together because you played a game of gay chicken and he lost?”
“Are you kidding? It’d be a hell of a lot easier if he did,” Michael bitches, setting the mugs on the tray with the pot of coffee. “Nine years going, but one day, one of us is gonna flinch.” He whistles, calling out, “Coffee’s on!” Alex is left stumbling after Michael as he brings it in, trying to process the bombshell that this is all some prolonged game of gay chicken in Michael’s mind.
He knows he’s basically married to Kyle, doesn’t he? They’re coparenting, for god’s sake.
Alex lingers at the door while Michael drops the coffee by the other men, fixing a cup exactly like Kyle likes and kissing the top of his head before he returns to Alex’s side, leaning up against the doorframe while crossing his arms over his chest.
Michael glances across the room to where Kyle is talking with Forrest by the fire. “I’m definitely winning this game of gay chicken,” he shares, grinning as Kyle beckons him over to talk about the piece of modern art they’re showing Forrest.
Alex sips his drink and waits for Forrest to escape the clutches of his ex and his former best friend, watching in disbelief as Kyle lifts Michael’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss there. Catarina keeps hugging Kyle’s leg, until she’s swooped up into his arms, flown around the room, and the picture of a happy family is unshakeable. That’s how Forrest earns his escape, when both men talk about putting Catarina to bed and that leaves them alone in the main sitting room, with Alex processing everything that’s happened.
Forrest peeks out towards the hallway, like he’s checking that the coast is clear before he says anything too incriminating.
“This isn’t what I expected from your formerly homophobic ex,” Forrest admits.
“Apparently, it was a game of gay chicken a decade ago,” Alex says. They’re all thirty-five years old, they’re way too old for that kind of thing, but he also suspects that both Kyle and Michael know that, but are keeping it under wraps.
It’s an unconventional way for them to have stumbled onto their happiness, but it seems to work for them.
Kyle works at the hospital, Michael at the junkyard, and they work the bed and breakfast together under Catarina’s helpful eye, ever since she was adopted from the group home. Alex relays the information to Forrest, who snorts so hard into his drink that it makes bubbles.
“They’re definitely idiots,” Forrest agrees. “Still, it’s nice to see things worked out.”
“Yeah,” Alex agrees, shaking his head. “Yeah, it is nice.”
“Means I don’t have to worry about sharing you at all,” Forrest whispers as he wraps his arms around him. “The ex-bestie and the ex-boyfriend with each other. And Alex Manes, all to myself.”
“I’m all yours,” Alex vows. “And maybe, one day, the two of them will realize they both already won this game of gay chicken.”
“Think we’ll be invited back for the wedding?”
“I think we’ll be able to snag an invite,” Alex says, settling down with a cup of coffee, secure in the knowledge that Michael and Kyle might both be idiots, but at least they’re idiots in love with one another.