Michael flushed a tiny bit, a touch embarrassed at the romantic part, but pleased that Alex had listened, hadn't laughed at him. The stories of the constellations were probably more Max's thing--it was fanciful, not hard science--but curled up here against Alex, Michael wasn't thinking a lot about science and facts.

"Yeah, well. Don't go telling people the closet-romantic part. That's just for you..." And then he flushed a bit more, because, well, Alex was the only one who'd ever touched that side of him, the part that went beyond the physical, that craved the connection and intimacy.

Thinking in that vein, he bit his lip, pausing as he debated whether it was safe to share a piece, but. Since none of it screamed "alien," he didn't think it mattered. "Max and I...I mean, we are brothers," he said quietly. Even if they didn't know how to prove it, biologically, it was so much more than friends. "Isobel's my sister." He shot Alex a sideways glance, then looked down, studying his hand for something else to look at. "I was here, before. In Roswell, I mean. We were all found together, not just the two of them. But they got adopted, and I got sent away to Albuquerque."