I walked up the aisle to marry your soul - InMe, Firefly
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The tarmac disappeared from his eyesight as the plane taxied up the runway, and his stomach did a funny flip as they ascended into the sky. It was his first time on a plane, his first time out of State, and here he was sitting next to his first and if he admitted it probably last boyfriend.
Alonzo was there for life, and if Miguel was honest, so was he.
It was funny that he spent all those years yearning to be free of Oz, and then when he finally got his parole he visited there all the time. Alonzo served seven years of his fifteen-year sentence, one of those without Miguel.
Miguel had been released and gone to stay with his mother, ignoring Maritza's overtures of reconciliation. The greater scarred Alvarez always mates for life, and he was firmly with Torquemada now, had been since the night on Alonzo's bed. The relationship had always been exclusive, partially because Miguel didn't find any other men attractive, except O'Reily, and he'd known for years he'd have none of it. That and Torquemada was in love with him. Love came later for Miguel, but it came, and when it did, it was firm, unshakeable. For the last four years of his sentence Miguel was almost content in Oz, and made no trouble.
So he ended up free, and with a nice job within one of Torquemada's clubs. He'd resisted at first, but Alonzo had said that a) it would make him feel better that he knew Miguel was okay and b) he wouldn't be treated differently.
Despite this he managed to get promoted twice, and was doing rather well for himself, enough to buy his own apartment in a decent area. Still, it gave him a feeling of fierce pride the day Torquemada was in the club for the first time after his release and walked up to him, giving him a deep kiss in front of a huge crowd.
His mother looked at him like she'd never seen him before when he brought Torquemada home. The outcome didn't matter, they were leaving anyway, but she had to know. She cried a bit, and mourned the loss of any future grandchildren, but she still hugged him like there was no tomorrow as he left. His sister Maria just looked bemused. She'd never liked Maritza, but she thoroughly approved of Torquemada, he could tell.
The living together on the outside was good. It was better than good, because they were free to pretty much do whatever they wanted to each other when they wanted without worrying about hacks or the hole or shit like that. It was at times when they lay in post-sex stupor together in the middle of the afternoon that Miguel felt a sudden sympathy for Chris Keller and Toby Beecher, to have loved each other that much and yet not be able to have what he had, and he'd shiver, despite Alonzo's warmth.
America wasn't much to them now. They were both older than their years, and ready for a new life. So they decided eventually on Spain, were they could blend (or Miguel could blend. He doubted Alonzo would ever change and didn't want him to.) and speak the language with ease. Alonzo didn't sell his clubs, but left his accountant to see that he got all the money he was owed. He then bought a small cafe on the Costa Brava and set about organising the move.
So here they were cruising at a leisurely 20,000 feet, Alonzo's legs draped over his lap and into the aisle. One airhostess in particular kept smiling at them indulgently and asking if they needed anything. The other passengers largely ignored them, except for a curl-headed girl who kept sneaking them lustful looks over her magazine, before making a face at her sleeping boyfriend and sighing.
He took a deep breath of air as he stepped off the plane. Salty and fresh, and hot, he breathed it in until he though his lungs were going to explode. They got a taxi to their house, which they'd bought with the help of one of Torquemada's contacts who already lived in the area. It was modest by Torquemada's standards, but still far more luxurious than Miguel had ever been used to.
They christened the bed before they had even unpacked, taking it slowly, stretching it out in the languor of the Spanish afternoon. Torquemada moved inside him slowly but forcefully, his hair falling down in front on his good eye, his teeth worrying at his lip. They slept the rest of the day.
Nighttime was truly the time when the Torquemada of old came out to play. The cafe was larger than Miguel expected, and the current manager was already running it to a good profit. There was no need to change any staff or indeed actually do any work.
So they returned home to what Miguel guessed was actually a villa and sat and watched the sky, which was filled with stars in a way Miguel had never seen, what with his sojourn in Oz, and living in a city all his life. Alonzo had spent his childhood in Cuba, and pointed out the constellations he knew. They drank sangria and held hands like an old couple, but when Miguel's hand strayed to Alonzo's thigh, there was the same fire that they had awakened all those years ago in Oz, which now seemed less than an unpleasant memory that had happened to another man, so long ago. But he knew that it was the same man. A man who loved someone different, had a few grey hairs now, and was a little wiser. But when Alonzo's lips met his he still felt like the cocky little bastard he'd been.
They went inside, stars and Oz forgotten, at least for a little while.