Our Little Nowhere [mxm]

The Kettle Black

Micah finally ended up taking Sasha to the reservation south of town. Sasha had seemed too excited for him to say no, and after the day before, Micah only wanted to see him get excited.

Micah didn't miss a lot of the long looks from some of the residents. He and Sasha wandered through the cultural center, which had a museum on the heritage of the tribes there. Micah stared awkwardly at some of the faces that were almost like his own, but at the same time felt too different from himself. Sasha admired some of the regalia on display and the historical photos, paired with tales of broken treaties and land grabs.

There was someone working the museum who approached them, a woman who seemed about Micah's age. They seemed to size each other up, and she gave him a cautious smile. "Are you new around here?" she asked. Her skin was the same shade as Micah's, and her dark hair was glossy and long, paired with a professional dress.

"Just from Kalispell, visiting," Micah replied, nodding towards Sasha. "He wanted to look around."

She stood by his side, admiring a picture in front of them that took up a portion of the wall. He could tell she was trying to figure him out, but he wasn't going to give much. He felt too awkward being there. He cleared his throat and called Sasha over, figuring he might appreciate some sort of unofficial tour.

She was able to give Sasha a more in depth history of the confederate tribes on the reservation, explaining the language differences but similar claims in territories that had forced them together under treaties and skewed laws.

Micah listened with half an ear, learning a few new things himself beyond what his own research into his biological parents had dredged up. He bit his tongue on asking anything about his father—he didn't even have a name to go by, unless he contacted his mother. He didn't imagine that going well with Sasha on his hands on top of it all.

Sasha bought a few items from a gift shop; some sew on patches for visiting, and a sarcastic sticker making a play on immigration. "Where exactly is all of this money coming from?" Micah asked as they walked to the parking lot for his bike. He knew that Sasha's father had money, but he wasn't sure how Sasha had gotten his hands on it.

"Well I had access to a bank account, for allowances and stuff," Sasha explained vaguely. "And I might have cleaned it out before coming here."

"Are you carrying cash?" Micah groaned. "You're going to get yourself mugged! It's a miracle you haven't been yet!"

"Small bills some of it, and the rest is all on pre-paid cards, stashed in various places on myself and in my belongings," Sasha sighed. "I haven't been flashy with it to get here so I wouldn't get myself in trouble. But if I just kept the debit card, he'd be able to track me."

Shit, he really had run away, Micah realized. And he'd thought it all through pretty well; if he got mugged, they would find one stash of cash and possibly leave him alone, unless they figured out to look for more. Micah still grumbled sourly to himself, taking Sasha on a drive by tour of the reservation. It was like a normal town, with a few corporate buildings in electronics and energy that supported the local economy. They took the long way back to Kalispell, looping around through Flathead National Forest and back into town for dinner.

Micah shouldn't have been all that surprised to show up at the diner to find Jeff seated and eating, but still giving Micah a look as if he'd been waiting for them to show up. Jeff used a napkin to clean his mouth and spun on the stool at the counter. "How's your day been?" he asked both of them.

Micah grunted unenthusiastically in response, while Sasha went on to gush about the museum and the friend he'd made there. Jeff nodded deftly along, asking an occasional question before inviting himself to eat with them.