He's only brave enough to do it because Daniel is incapacitated. "I mean it, too." Michael eases the hand to the back of his neck and presses a kiss to his forehead.
He closes his eyes and sighs a little, his eyelashes getting a bit wet as he tries to hold back another spate of tears. He'll pull away to wipe his face after a second and try to laugh it off.
"If you can steal some brownies from Max, you'll be my favourite..." Not that he'll have to steal. He's pretty sure Max will force more Christmas baking on the dinner attendees than anyone will ever be able to eat on their own.
Michael won't comment on the sudden extra dampness, just slide his hand from Daniel's neck (and maybe stroking his cheek on the way) and back into his lap.
"Brownies, check. I'll be at my most stealthy." He stands up, giving Daniel a cautious look. "You sure you'll be okay tonight?"
....Yeah, Daniel, that isn't making Michael feel better about leaving you alone tonight. He looks at him with a slightly tear-glazed look of his own, fierce and helpless.
"You wanna say that in a way that isn't gonna make me worry?" he asks, voice a little wavery.
He snorts and bumps his head against Michael's side, affectionate but tired. "I've weathered this before, I'll weather it again. You'll show up tomorrow and I'll just have a hangover. Might even be wearing trousers."
Michael runs his hand over Daniel's head, ruffling his fingers into his hair and weighing his worry over the man who knows himself best. It's not like Michael hasn't had dark nights of his own, they never got much worse than a raging hangover.
"Let's focus on those trousers," he says. "That'll be our goal for tomorrow, all right sweetheart?"
Michael leans to kiss him on the top of the head again, before giving him his space. Of course he worries about him for half the day, but Daniel knows himself and if he thinks he'll be all right then Michael will trust him.
He's back bright and early the next day (or as bright and early as he can be after a party like that), bearing leftovers and letting himself into Daniel's house with his brain. He goes straight for the kitchen to get Daniel's coffee started and pull out the ingredients for omelets.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of moonshine and grief, though he does feed himself at some point. Eventually he makes it up to bed, he's too old to sleep on the couch.
Daniel wakes up to the smell of coffee and something fried and stares blearily at the ceiling wondering where he is, who's downstairs, and what year it is before he remembers Michael saying he'd be over.
He's feeling enough like himself to shower before he comes downstairs in a t-shirt and yoga pants (see - trousers!), leaning against the door of the kitchen. "That coffee had better be for me."
Michael smiles at Daniel when he sees him come down damp and fully dressed.
"I want to see if it's possible for me to overdose on caffeine," he says, nodding at the full pot of coffee. He flips the omelet over after sprinkling cheese into it. "You're not allergic to mushrooms, right?" If he is, Michael will eat this one. "How are you feeling?"
Daniel will come pour himself a mug - an incongruous cheerfully cute one he got from Peony's shop. It's got a cat on it. He drinks it black, sinking down at the kitchen bar. "No, no allergies. And like someone came in the night and hit my head with a bag of hammers."
He doesn't apologize for the day before, though he's tempted. He's sure Michael would brush it off the way he would. Still, he feels like he should acknowledge it. "Ah... thanks. For coming by yesterday. It was good to see a friendly face."
"Did you piss your elves off? Maybe they did." Sneaky little jerks. Michael isn't sure what the source is of Daniel's feud with them, but it seems to be mutual.
"I wanted to make sure your present got here on time." They don't have to talk about the...feelings. He sets Daniel's omelet down in front of him on the island, next to the boxes of leftovers. Daniel can have a brownie once he's had some protein.
"So," he leans his elbows on the island, sliding his hands together in what might be seen as a nervous wring. "I actually came by yesterday to talk to you about something."
"They did take offense to me offering them Santa hats," Daniel muses... then chuckles. "No, I think it's just the moonshine."
He takes a bite of the omelette, making an appreciative noise. He wouldn't eat brownies for breakfast anyway, they're far too rich. The omelette feels like he might be possibly making up for yesterday's idiocy.
"Oh?" He looks up at him, waving his fork in a 'go on' gesture. "Is everything all right?"
"That might have been culturally insensitive," Michael points out. "Or just really, really ugly." He's still gonna wear the santa cowboy hat but he's doing it under protest.
The sight of Daniel enjoying his breakfast makes him smile. He can't cook much, and he doesn't love it as much as Max seems to, but he can't deny the enjoyment he gets out of nourishing someone.
"--Yeah." He glances down at his hands, rubs the tattoo on his forearm hidden now by his sleeve. "There's something I haven't been telling people, cuz it's nobody's business, but it's come out a few times and I'm thinking about making it less of a big deal. Telling more people." He starts tracing the design through his sleeve, glancing up at Daniel. "And it's probably shitty timing, but I wanted to start with you."
"So is kidnapping us," Daniel grumbles. And he knows Michael loves the santa cowboy hat, deep deep down inside.
He looks up, furrow between his brows increasing as Michael builds up to it but he doesn't interrupt him, taking a sip of his coffee instead. Which turns out to be poorly timed as it turns into him choking on it.
He clears his throat with a cough, shaking his head. "You don't - you don't look like one."
This is probably the most inane thing he could say, but it's true. When Daniel thinks of aliens he thinks of nightmare sea urchins or heavily armoured thugs. Not... Michael. He's seen Michael's dick, for Christ's sake.
Maybe hungover Daniel is the best version of Daniel for Michael to tell after all--everything's a little bit dulled.
"Maybe you look like us," he points out in a weak attempt at biting humor. "Maybe evolution was like 'mostly hairless bipeds, yeah, let's stick with this' all over the universe." He doesn't really know enough about his own biology, which is great really.
Still! At least Daniel doesn't seem angry or scared of him. "Do uh, do you have any questions?"
Daniel is processing. "Bloody hell." He drinks some more coffee, careful to make sure it goes down the right pipe this time. "Uh. How did you end up on Earth, then?"
Everything Michael's said hadn't sounded like he invaded, but after Daniel led with having his Earth invaded by aliens, he couldn't really, could he? But he doesn't want to think that of Michael. He wants to trust him, especially after yesterday.
Yes please don't choke and die while Michael is spilling some of his deepest secrets, he'll take it personally.
"I was on the ship that crashed in Roswell in 1947." He'll tell Daniel what he knows. "I don't know where they--we--I don't know what the original destination was, or why they were leaving our home. I don't remember anything from before." He looks back down again, cuz the description's going to get pretty weird. "They put us in these pods to protect us," he describes them to Daniel, the stasis-like protection they offered. "And me and two other kids didn't come out of them for fifty years."
Yes, the stasis pods do sound weird - some kind of advanced technology, it must be. That makes him uneasy, but there's not much he can do about it. "Was there anyone else on the ship? Were the three of you the only survivors?"
Three kids alone makes him feel sad for them. One ship doesn't exactly sound like an invasion force under any circumstance - but especially not if it was carrying children. No one's ever even heard of a Legislator child - if they have them, they didn't bring them to Earth.
"There were a lot of us." Now Michael looks down at his hands, blinking his eyes quickly. Mom....
"They were found by the army pretty quickly." his voice is clipped, sharp. He doesn't want to talk about what happened to them. "I don't know why we were on that ship. We could have been refugees, but we could just have easily been invading. I don't think Earth was their goal though." He doesn't know. His mom had been peaceful, from all the stuff he'd learned, and so was Isobel's, but that didn't mean anything.
Daniel pushes his chair back and goes to put his arms around Michael. He isn't going to hesitate to offer comfort when it looks like it might be needed - Michael might sound sharp, but his body language looks... well, probably not much different than Daniel's did yesterday. He can imagine how it went with the army - they may have rolled over for the Legislators, but for anyone with less power...
"Most invasions don't bring children along," he points out. He's not sure what to say to be helpful, but he's reasonably sure on that point.
Ughhh what's this, how dare he, Michael can only occasionally give comfort people don't offer it to him.
He doesn't think that his body language--hands clenched, shoulders hunched, head down--might mean anything other than defensive. He tenses when he feels Daniel's arms around him, and then he leans into him, head turning to press his face against his arm.
He doesn't know why what Daniel says makes his eyes fill, but it does, and he has to take a slow shuddering breath to stop himself from actually crying. He doesn't speak again until he's sure his voice is even. "Unless they're planning on colonizing after."
"Too dangerous. Children are valuable, loved. You don't send them unless you're sure they'll be safe, or you're desperate." He strokes Michael's back, the way Michael had done for him. In some ways he might be convincing himself too - that Michael and his people weren't the Legislators, weren't coming to wreck humanity and ravage the Earth for resources.
Whether they were or not hardly matters. Michael was a child, not responsible for his people. And if they were planning an invasion, it didn't happen and something awful happened to them... not that that would be justice, even if they were.
That's what Michael has been arguing with himself since he started learning more about his people, about the ship his mother had been on. He could still argue, that what if his people were that warlike, that they'd send children into such a dangerous situation?
He doesn't know if they were the only ones either, if it had been him and Max and Isobel or if there'd been more they'd been unable to save.
...He thinks they'd been brought for safety, not for anything else. That's why they took Max, wasn't it?
Michael slides his arms around Daniel's waist and presses his face into his shoulder, letting some tears seep through. He's relieved that Daniel still sees him as him, and thinking about the loss of his people are both a bit much for him and his feelings are coming out of his eyes.
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"Good, I'll bring leftovers tomorrow, then."
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"If you can steal some brownies from Max, you'll be my favourite..." Not that he'll have to steal. He's pretty sure Max will force more Christmas baking on the dinner attendees than anyone will ever be able to eat on their own.
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"Brownies, check. I'll be at my most stealthy." He stands up, giving Daniel a cautious look. "You sure you'll be okay tonight?"
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And look where that got him. The world's horniest afterlife, without the one person he would have died to see.
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"You wanna say that in a way that isn't gonna make me worry?" he asks, voice a little wavery.
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"Let's focus on those trousers," he says. "That'll be our goal for tomorrow, all right sweetheart?"
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He'll let out a breath, relaxing a bit more. It's nice to be taken care of sometimes.
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He's back bright and early the next day (or as bright and early as he can be after a party like that), bearing leftovers and letting himself into Daniel's house with his brain. He goes straight for the kitchen to get Daniel's coffee started and pull out the ingredients for omelets.
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Daniel wakes up to the smell of coffee and something fried and stares blearily at the ceiling wondering where he is, who's downstairs, and what year it is before he remembers Michael saying he'd be over.
He's feeling enough like himself to shower before he comes downstairs in a t-shirt and yoga pants (see - trousers!), leaning against the door of the kitchen. "That coffee had better be for me."
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"I want to see if it's possible for me to overdose on caffeine," he says, nodding at the full pot of coffee. He flips the omelet over after sprinkling cheese into it. "You're not allergic to mushrooms, right?" If he is, Michael will eat this one. "How are you feeling?"
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He doesn't apologize for the day before, though he's tempted. He's sure Michael would brush it off the way he would. Still, he feels like he should acknowledge it. "Ah... thanks. For coming by yesterday. It was good to see a friendly face."
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"I wanted to make sure your present got here on time." They don't have to talk about the...feelings. He sets Daniel's omelet down in front of him on the island, next to the boxes of leftovers. Daniel can have a brownie once he's had some protein.
"So," he leans his elbows on the island, sliding his hands together in what might be seen as a nervous wring. "I actually came by yesterday to talk to you about something."
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He takes a bite of the omelette, making an appreciative noise. He wouldn't eat brownies for breakfast anyway, they're far too rich. The omelette feels like he might be possibly making up for yesterday's idiocy.
"Oh?" He looks up at him, waving his fork in a 'go on' gesture. "Is everything all right?"
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The sight of Daniel enjoying his breakfast makes him smile. He can't cook much, and he doesn't love it as much as Max seems to, but he can't deny the enjoyment he gets out of nourishing someone.
"--Yeah." He glances down at his hands, rubs the tattoo on his forearm hidden now by his sleeve. "There's something I haven't been telling people, cuz it's nobody's business, but it's come out a few times and I'm thinking about making it less of a big deal. Telling more people." He starts tracing the design through his sleeve, glancing up at Daniel. "And it's probably shitty timing, but I wanted to start with you."
And, deep breath. "I'm an alien."
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He looks up, furrow between his brows increasing as Michael builds up to it but he doesn't interrupt him, taking a sip of his coffee instead. Which turns out to be poorly timed as it turns into him choking on it.
He clears his throat with a cough, shaking his head. "You don't - you don't look like one."
This is probably the most inane thing he could say, but it's true. When Daniel thinks of aliens he thinks of nightmare sea urchins or heavily armoured thugs. Not... Michael. He's seen Michael's dick, for Christ's sake.
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"Maybe you look like us," he points out in a weak attempt at biting humor. "Maybe evolution was like 'mostly hairless bipeds, yeah, let's stick with this' all over the universe." He doesn't really know enough about his own biology, which is great really.
Still! At least Daniel doesn't seem angry or scared of him. "Do uh, do you have any questions?"
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Everything Michael's said hadn't sounded like he invaded, but after Daniel led with having his Earth invaded by aliens, he couldn't really, could he? But he doesn't want to think that of Michael. He wants to trust him, especially after yesterday.
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"I was on the ship that crashed in Roswell in 1947." He'll tell Daniel what he knows. "I don't know where they--we--I don't know what the original destination was, or why they were leaving our home. I don't remember anything from before." He looks back down again, cuz the description's going to get pretty weird. "They put us in these pods to protect us," he describes them to Daniel, the stasis-like protection they offered. "And me and two other kids didn't come out of them for fifty years."
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Three kids alone makes him feel sad for them. One ship doesn't exactly sound like an invasion force under any circumstance - but especially not if it was carrying children. No one's ever even heard of a Legislator child - if they have them, they didn't bring them to Earth.
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"They were found by the army pretty quickly." his voice is clipped, sharp. He doesn't want to talk about what happened to them. "I don't know why we were on that ship. We could have been refugees, but we could just have easily been invading. I don't think Earth was their goal though." He doesn't know. His mom had been peaceful, from all the stuff he'd learned, and so was Isobel's, but that didn't mean anything.
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"Most invasions don't bring children along," he points out. He's not sure what to say to be helpful, but he's reasonably sure on that point.
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He doesn't think that his body language--hands clenched, shoulders hunched, head down--might mean anything other than defensive. He tenses when he feels Daniel's arms around him, and then he leans into him, head turning to press his face against his arm.
He doesn't know why what Daniel says makes his eyes fill, but it does, and he has to take a slow shuddering breath to stop himself from actually crying. He doesn't speak again until he's sure his voice is even. "Unless they're planning on colonizing after."
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Whether they were or not hardly matters. Michael was a child, not responsible for his people. And if they were planning an invasion, it didn't happen and something awful happened to them... not that that would be justice, even if they were.
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He doesn't know if they were the only ones either, if it had been him and Max and Isobel or if there'd been more they'd been unable to save.
...He thinks they'd been brought for safety, not for anything else. That's why they took Max, wasn't it?
Michael slides his arms around Daniel's waist and presses his face into his shoulder, letting some tears seep through. He's relieved that Daniel still sees him as him, and thinking about the loss of his people are both a bit much for him and his feelings are coming out of his eyes.
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