greatamazingfeelingsboy

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michael guerin

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"I have a couple hours before work tomorrow. You can come over?"

That's how it starts. Clint needs some help on an art project, and Caleb isn't an artist by a long shot (which he warns Clint about plenty), but he does remember all the stuff he and Chloe talked about, and when Clint hears that, he seems to think it's enough knowledge for Caleb to be helpful.

So, on Saturday morning before Caleb goes to the shop, Clint comes to the apartment. Caleb has double- and triple-checked that the spare room door is locked. He's covered anything that gives off too much of its own light (which is so weird, and so cool), and on top of installing the locking doorknob, he'd also installed privacy stripping along the bottom.

He won't let Michael's secret get out. Not after everything.

Clint and Caleb are sitting on the couch. There's some TV show streaming on FilmFix while they work. On the coffee table in front of them is a box of Sharpie markers in all sorts of colors, a sketch of Clint's idea, and the final piece he's going to be inking.

"I feel like you should've sprung the extra few bucks for actual art markers," Caleb says. "You're not gonna get shit done for shading with these."

Clint rolls his eyes, but laughs.

"I'm not planning on shading," he says. "I want to do something flatter, y'know? Starker. Something that'll stand out from the rest of the class."

Clint doesn't want to go to art school, but he has ideas about art that a lot of the more pretentious kids in their grade don't seem to. He's talking about it now, and Caleb should be listening, but instead, he's losing himself in the rhythm of Clint's voice. He's drawn into the heady, exciting swell of the passion Clint's feeling. Clint is gesturing as he speaks, voice rising when he starts to get enthusiastic, and lowering again when he feels self conscious. It's adorable.

Caleb's starting to stare, he knows it, so he clears his throat and tries to deflect with a joke.

"Don't you think you stand out enough already?"

"Why, 'cause I'm queer, or 'cause I'm black?" Clint asks. There's a kind of wry, challenging smile on his face, and now it's Caleb's turn to roll his eyes.

"No? Dude, you know that's not what I meant," Caleb says, and pelts a marker at Clint's chest.

"No, I really don't," he says, all faux innocence. "Tell me, Michaels, how do I 'stand out enough already'?"

Caleb feels caught. Clint's playful joy is floating on butterflies that are becoming way too familiar, way too comfortable, in Caleb's ribs. He feels his face heating, and he tries to laugh it off.

"I just— hello, you're the star quarterback. Literally every girl in school that isn't a lesbian wants to date you."

"Yeah, well, it's not the girls I'm interested in," he reminds.

The butterflies surge again. Clint's watching him with dark, hopeful eyes. He doesn't feel the hope, but he can see it. Clint doesn't dare to hope, Caleb realizes. He shakes his head and looks at the project in front of them. He can feel Clint watching him, and he needs to get this back on track before something happens.

"Here, gimme that marker back, I'll start the outline," he says, reaching for it.

"Nah, it's mine now," Clint says. His amusement rises up and crystallizes when Caleb looks at him. "Shouldn't have thrown it at me," he points out, and Caleb rolls his eyes and laughs.

"Dude," he argues, and reaches for it again.

Clint jerks it out of his reach, and when Caleb reaches for it again, tucks it behind himself. Caleb huffs a disbelieving laugh. He stretches to reach around Clint's other side. Clint laughs and twists to dodge.

The ensuing struggle is ridiculous, but Clint's joy is contagious as they wrestle for the marker.

Caleb's not sure how, or when, it happens, but he finds himself leaning over Clint, his arm pinned beneath Clint's body, their fingers tangled around the marker. Their breath is coming faster, heavier, from the exertion of their weird little wrestling match, but they're staring at each other.

For a long, weighty moment, Caleb is reminded of Sadie Hawkins, and leaning over Adam, and how he'd had no idea how close they'd come to kissing. This is different. He can tell, now. He recognizes the feeling that says 'I want to kiss him' in a way that he hadn't back then.

But he still doesn't know what to do about it.

Clint does. He stretches up, pressing his lips to Caleb's like he knows exactly what he wants.

* * *
Caleb doesn't know how long they spend kissing. But when his work alarm goes off, telling him to get his ass to the shop so he isn't late, he jerks back. Clint's surprise settles next to his own, making his heart pound all the harder, and with a curse he turns to grab his phone off the coffee table.

"Fuck, I gotta go," he says. Clint's disappointment paws at him. "I'm gonna be late," he explains, scrambling off the couch. "Um, just... Lock up when you leave, okay?"

"Caleb—" Clint tries, but Caleb's already rushing to the door.

"I'll see you on Monday!" he says, letting the door fall shut behind him.

He's a fucking coward, but he really is going to be late for work.

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Ever since the incident, Michael's trying to be better at his connections, at least with the phone. They'd used his phone and his lack of texting to get away with it, which means that he needs to man the fuck up and get better. It's why he'd ended up calling Caleb when he saw what day it was.

"Hey, man," he says, after getting the answering machine. "Sorry it's last minute, I just realized you might head to the shop, but I'm not gonna be there. It's uh, it's still too soon," he says roughly. He's not entirely sure he'll ever be ready. "But if you want to hang out, our door's always open."

The voicemail alert pings as he's jogging away from the apartment — away from Clint, and Caleb's far enough away that he no longer feels the disappointment and confusion radiating from him — and Caleb pulls his phone out. The missed call from Michael glares at him, and he winces.

"Fuck, shit," he murmurs, and listens to the voicemail, heart in his throat.

But it's fine, right? Michael wouldn't leave a voicemail if he couldn't leave a voicemail. He doesn't relax until he hears his voice, and he slows to a stop as he listens to the explanation, and the hanging invitation.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, and he pulls his phone down to text Michael a quick 'omw' before re-routing to Ocean View.

Michael's not avoiding the world, he's just also not going out into it. Lately, he's been fiddling with some of the pieces of the console, working on it to try and reverse-engineer some of the bits to fly with, wondering if he could create some small drones.

He glances to his phone when it pings, using his powers to unlock the door with his mind so Caleb can come in, reaching for a screwdriver to see if he can add a small motor, as he waits for Caleb to show, hoping he's not too mad about missing another car day.

By the time he reaches Ocean View, car day is the last thing on Caleb's mind. He's been texting Rosie, and he's gotten a few texts from Clint, too, and all he can think about is the last twenty minutes of his life and how fucking weird it is to be a teenager.

He lets himself in with a cursory knock, the exact same way he always does. Michael's feelings meet him on the sidewalk, so he knows exactly where he is, and he's not in bed, which is amazing.

Caleb immediately feels guilty for that thought. He knows Michael's trying. He can feel it. It's slow, and timid, but it's there, pushing through the tightly packed soil that his trauma has laid down around him. But it is exciting, that Michael's already up and moving around.

"Hey," he says, utterly unaware of how he looks right now: well-kissed.

Michael glances up from what he's been fiddling with, knowing that half of why he's okay to be out here like this is Bopp, but the other half is absolutely the tinkering with the devices in front of him. When he hears the door open, he waves.

He's still not quick to speech outside of Alex, but he can manage. Alex is out, though, with Luke, and that gives them run of the apartment. "Still wanted to hang out, huh?" he jokes, and shifts to move some of the parts from off the couch beside him.

"Duh," he answers, grinning. He sits on the couch beside him, careful not to jostle him too much. He's still healing.

"What're you working on?"

His phone is still in his hand, and he taps out another quick reply to Rosie before setting it on the coffee table.

"Trying to see if I can merge earth and alien technology," he says, glancing over to his notes in order to float a few of the pieces around it, creating a protective shield around a camera, which he works to create a hole around it.

It'll be the first time that he's showing Caleb how the pieces knit together as soon as they're close.

"I figure, if this works, I can replicate some drone technology that sort of blends in, also works much smaller. I gotta figure out the engine, though, to give it boost."

"Holy shit," he whispers, leaning closer to see a little better. He'd seen the pods, and he'd seen bits and pieces of the glass or... whatever it is. But he'd never seen it like this, small pieces knitting together like a time lapse of healing skin, or something.

Even after working with Michael on the car, and working at the shop for the past two months, he only has a limited knowledge on engines themselves. Something small enough to propel a drone is... not within his purview.

Michael's using his powers to keep it elevated, able to work at something on the bottom. "I've got the engine from the ship and it seems to use a lot of natural elements. Sun, wind, that kind of thing." He suspects there are some elements found more frequently in space, too, but he's still studying that.

He settles it back and grabs his notebook and pencil to sketch a few more notes down, his head bowed and working on it as he gently lets the drone fall back.

"Would you buy it?" he asks, absently, not looking up.

"Um, absolutely," he says with a laugh. "Do you have any idea how vital something like this could be playing Quidditch?" He can imagine it now, programmed by someone like Michael to zip around the field to serve as the Snitch, instead of another player.

Of course, that depended on how sturdy the drones ended up being, and how affordable, too, but he doesn't say that just yet.

Michael gives him a dubious look because, "Quidditch, really? It could have weather applications or satellite or security, and you want to use my groundbreaking alien technology to play a fake game."

Man, he really went and surrounded himself with a bunch of nerds, didn't he? Shame he loves them with all his heart.

Caleb laughs, because even Michael's dubious look and words aren't enough to cover up the fondness he's feeling for the nerd sharing his couch.

"Um, yeah," he says. "It'd make it so much more authentic!"

He shakes his head and sets it back down, bringing his notepad out so he can scribble a few more notes. When he glances back up to Caleb, he eyes him thoughtfully, and yeah, he's pretty smart, but he thinks even an idiot would notice a change.

"What's going on with you?" he asks. "You're all...happy."

"Huh? Nothing, no, I'm, y'know. Fine." He huffs a laugh and shrugs, maybe blushing a little. "Um. I mean. Clint was over this morning?"

He's not sure he's willing to chalk it up to Clint being there, or their impromptu make-out session, but he'd be lying to himself if he said it didn't contribute a little bit. He's just a little surprised Michael'd noticed.

Michael raises both brows when Caleb admits to that, smirking a little. "Oh, I see," is all he says. "Clint was over," he echoes, and puts aside his notebook. Distracting himself with work is a good option. Distracting himself by teasing Caleb is way better.

He gives him a look, waiting, expectantly. "Was he also over last night?" he asks, when he doesn't seem to be getting much to work with.

That has Caleb blushing, and he ducks his head. "What? No, he came over to work on a school project." He doesn't even mean to reach up to run his thumb along his lower lip. He's just remembering the way Clint's stubble had felt against it, and he blushes a little darker.

"I mean, I get it," Michael guarantees. "Science turns me on a lot and gets me to blush like that," he says, his eyes fixed on him as he smirks, loving that he's going to get to poke his buttons.

It's also the most normal he's felt in a very long time.

"And you always fondle your lips when you're thinking about science?"

"Oh my god, you're the actual worst," Caleb groans, but he's laughing when he buries his head in his arms. This feels good, Michael teasing him. It feels normal.

"It was an art project, and—" Fuck, he has to tell him. "And we just— we kissed a little. A lot," he corrects, and he's waiting for the smug 'I told you so' to start.

"This isn't even half as bad as I can be," is Michael's opinion, which isn't quite a warning, but it feels pretty close. He smirks at Caleb, giving him a light little shove at the shoulder. "Oh, you kissed a lot," he replies, as though he actually cares.

After all, he and Alex kiss a hell of a lot all the time.

"And? How'd you do?" he asks. "Not the kissing, you know what I mean," he says, nudging at the whole 'did your emotions stay in check'.

Caleb allows the shove at his shoulder to push him, and he groans again. He does know what Michael means, and he isn't sure he wants to answer him. It isn't embarrassing, or anything. Well, not as embarrassing as it could be, anyway.

"It— that part was fine," he admits. "Kissing is... I can handle it, as long as, y'know. We both start out on the same page." As long as neither of them is gunning to take it further, he means.

Michael smirks as he settles back in, feeling comfortable as he talks about this thing that finally makes him feel more like himself. It's incredible, because the truth is, it's been so long and he'd been starting to forget. "Okay, so you started out on the same page."

He also notices that Caleb's here.

"So he came over this morning, you were kissing, but now you're here at my place. That bad?"

"What? No, no, it was not bad," Caleb says. He can feel Michael trying to put the pieces together. "It was very not bad. That... was part of the problem, actually."

He explains it to Michael as well as he can: that he hadn't invited Clint over with any plans to make out, that it'd been this dumb wrestling match like any TV movie. That he'd liked kissing him, but then his phone alarm had gone off, warning him it was time to head to the shop, and... well. By the time he'd gotten Michael's voicemail, it'd felt weird to think about going back to the apartment, to chance facing Clint and going back to that moment.

"I didn't hate it," he says. "But... I dunno, like... I feel guilty?"

Michael can't help the smirk on his face, though that softens a little as he thinks about feeling guilty and why he should. He never did. Even when things with him and Alex were over, he didn't feel guilty about what happened with him and Maria, but that had been over.

He gets the feeling though that he doesn't have that sense of closure with Adam.

"You know you're allowed, right? There's no guarantee that Adam's gonna come here."

Caleb makes a little face at that. It always stings, just a little, when he's reminded that, no, Adam isn't here, and no, he probably isn't going to be. He knows Michael doesn't mean it that way, though, so he shrugs.

"I mean, I know. And, and my friend Rosie said that maybe, y'know, I'm actually still back there, too? Like, some people have told me that time stops there, or that I'll get back the moment I left from, so it's like I was never gone, but she was saying that maybe it's like... one of me came here, and the original me stayed there? So... I'm still with him. He's still with me. And. And that's good, right? It's not... y'know... cheating, or whatever, if I'm actually still there?"

He has no idea if that makes sense. He hopes it does. He hopes Michael gets it, that he agrees, confirms Caleb's thoughts.

Michael doesn't want to think about a poor sad-sack pathetic version of himself who might be back home. Genuinely, that's just depressing in the most awful of ways, so he stays mum on that, focusing on Caleb's issues and not what it would mean for some poor Michael Guerin.

"So, then, if it felt good, then why not do it some more?" he says, since that feels like the reasonable next step out of all of this.