Spoilers: Up through "How the Other Half Lives"
Rating: PG
Author's Note: This is because I'm still not sure when M&M got back together, so here's my answer. *g*
Dedication: For Donna, who didn't stop believing in M&M, even if she did give up on Mickey G…

Maria fell back on the bed, surprised at the opulence of the room. Money talked. Boy, did money talk. Especially into the heart of Ms. Meredith DuPree. Funny how the old bitch got so friendly after seeing the blackmail file Maria had put together.

The blond curled up on the huge bed, staring up at the ceiling through the four posters of the bed. Oddly enough, there were stars painted on it. It looked almost like the mural above Spaceboy's bed. There was a kind of blurred, Van Gogh-esque quality to it. Maybe money meant better taste in art. No fluorescent dogs playing cards on velvet for the DuPrees.

She turned over onto her side, hiding until all she could see was a curtain of gold curls. It was just like Spaceboy not to say anything about her hair. It was the first time she'd had her hair long in years, and Mickey G had nothing to say about the alien-enhanced curls. Maybe the summer of Destiny had changed him. Not that Michael Guerin had ever been in the running for Galaxy's Best Boyfriend in the first place, but still…

She laid back against the heaps of satin pillows. The bed was almost like a fairytale, and big enough for an entire family. There were even curtains on it-not quite like the canopy she'd wanted when she was little, but close enough. There was never any money, then or now, and the closest she ever got was hanging some alien-print sheets from the ceiling. The airy gauze curtains weren't tacky glow-in-the-dark alien head sheets. And this house wasn't hers, no matter how many airs she tried to put on.

There was something kinda lonely about the big room. The overstuffed armchairs under the bay window seemed too prim and proper for anyone to sit in, and Maria had her doubts that anyone had ever actually flung themselves on the bed. There were so many pillows that it was almost stifling, and the white of the room seemed chilling. This wasn't her messy little room at home, with the beaded curtains on the window, and her purple bedspread. There was no room for aliens in this big house. There wasn't much room for a Maria DeLuca either. But at least Sherlock DeLuca's sleuthing skills had payed off yet again…

For a moment, Maria let herself wonder where Michael was staying, if he was even in the same wing. She knew he'd gone to check on Laurie, to make sure she was okay for the night. Knowing Spaceboy, he was probably telling her that all the sleuthing was his idea. He was such a guy sometimes, even if he wasn't human. But she couldn't grudge his feelings for Laurie. The poor girl was like his granddaughter or sister or cousin or something. They were family.

At least they were something. At least Laurie knew where she stood with The Spaceboy of 1000 Hairstyles. And it looked like Michael's dream had finally come true. Maybe it wasn't a spaceship to the planet Klingon, but an Alfa Romeo to Tucson wasn't too bad.

Lying in bed wasn't going to solve her problems with Michael. And it wasn't going to get Laurie away from the land of the Muffys either.

Maria quickly changed into the nightgown Laurie lent her before getting into bed and turning out the lights. The stars on the ceiling didn't glow in the dark like Michael's did. Maybe they didn't have glow-in-the-dark paint 50 years ago, or whenever Gramps DuPree painted the ceiling. It was kinda creepy to think that Michael was basically the Dolly version of Charles DuPree. Spaceboy even had some sheep-like qualities, like the way he kept hiding behind the way he felt, and just chewed his stupid grass and didn't bother paying attention to what went on in the world around him. Stupid old Mickey G who couldn't quite see that being a stone wall was a bad thing.

But if it was Laurie who taught Michael the difference…

She rolled over, burying her face in the cool pillowcases. Laurie was his granddaughter. It would be incest. And as far as Maria knew, incest still wasn't legal in most of the countries on Earth, though God only knew what it was like on the planet of the Spaceboys…

Maria wasn't surprised to find her pillow wet. Her pillow had been wet a lot of the nights lately-ever since she learned the big secret, actually. Mom never said that dating an alien would make you cry. Michael was a hell of a lot more normal than he thought he was, Martian DNA or not. And he still hadn't answered if they were back together again or not. Yeah, they were kinda friends again, and yeah, he'd loved her at Christmas, but Christmas had seemed like an almost entirely different reality, like they'd all slipped onto one of Mom's wonky astral planes.

So she was kind of surprised when she felt a soft weight land on the mattress beside her. "Shove over, Maria, you're hogging all the covers."

She looked up from under the pillows, staring at the dark shape that loomed above her. "Spaceboy?"

The warm body shoved her over about a foot. "No, it's the man behind the curtain. Move over, Maria. It's cold."

"Didn't Bobby and Mer find you a guestroom somewhere in the Presidential Suite?" Michael's presence confused her as he cuddled up against her body-something he hadn't done in almost eight months.

His arms folded around her as naturally as they had the last time they slept together. "Yeah, but I wanted to sleep here."

"Why?" His breath against her neck tickled a little as he moved her hair out of his face.

"Isn't that what boyfriends do?" She could feel him winding one of her long curls around his fingers. The sparks were still there. "You keep twitting at me to be a real boyfriend, Cheesehead, so when I finally decide to do it…"

Maria turned over in his arms, peering closely at his face. From what she could see in the dim light from the bathroom, there was no sign of alien possession or weird pea soup stuff spewing from his mouth. And his cheek wasn't feverish against her hand. It felt warm. Alive.

In the darkness, her hands found his high cheekbones, his sharp nose, his soft lips. His face felt like Michael's-the old Michael, the one who loved her too much. The one who promised to come back, even if he knew that it wasn't something he'd ever be sure of. The one who bought her shampoo and conditioner in one, just because it would save her time.

His lips found hers in the darkness, and he kissed her lightly. "Night, Maria. Don't hog all the covers, or else I'll make you sleep on the floor." And snuggling her closer to him again, her Spaceboy fell asleep.

Some things never changed, but some things did, for the better.

Amy DeLuca walked into her daughter's room, surprised to see a shape lying under the purple comforter. For a moment, her eyes almost tricked her into believing that the spiky head on the pillow didn't belong to her nephew.

"Aunt Amy?" The blond head on the pillow, once crowned with curls not unlike Maria's, looked up at the light in the doorway. "He'll take care of her."

Amy smiled slightly. "I know, Sean. If not…" If not, there was a Sunday edition of the Roswell Gazette with Michael Guerin's name on it.

"If you don't kick his ass, then she will, Aunt Amy. Maria can take care of herself."

The older woman laughed, a few of her fears eased. Yes, her daughter was seventeen, not much older than Amy had been when she got married. But Maria was stronger than her mother had been, and Michael…

There was hope for Michael Guerin.

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