Anger
Becomes Her
By Guardian Angel
(eyes_only1@yahoo.com)
Rating:
R (for language and a few, uh, sexual thoughts…)
Spoilers:
"Out" (mud/towel scene in the beginning)
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em.
Author's
notes: This is in answer to an informal
challenge I got from a friend of mine, who wanted me to do a little piece on
Max's thoughts during this scene in "Out." I hope I can do it justice! Jen, this is for you, my big sis! :-) *hugs*
Also,
sorry guys, but this hasn't been beta'd yet…so I apologize for any glaring
grammar/spelling mistakes (spelling has never been my strong point…), and let
me know if you see anything major. :-) I'm just a little too eager to post this…and keep in mind, this was
written in about a half hour! ;-)
***
As
she stormed into the Logan's spacious bathroom, Max fumed.
The
ride back from the airstrip had been silent; Logan had obviously taken her
warning to heart and had not uttered one word until they had reached his
penthouse. Then, he'd merely gestured
towards the shower and suggested that she clean up a bit in that infuriatingly
calm, mild-mannered voice of his.
Still
angry over the events of the night, Max glanced at herself in the mirror. Her face, like the rest of her body, was
liberally streaked with cold, slimy mud, and she stank with it. The fire in her eyes did not bode well for
Logan as she aggressively stripped herself of her clothes, tossing them in a
wet heap on the floor.
As
she turned on the shower, setting the water for blisteringly hot, she was
interrupted by a soft knock on the door.
"What?" She didn't bother to hide the hostility in
her voice. If he valued his skin at
all, he'd leave her alone.
His
voice was slightly muffled through the door, but not so much that she couldn't
understand him. "If you want to
leave your clothes right outside the door here, I'll wash them for you while
you shower. I'll be in the computer
room, just pile them out here whenever you're ready."
Her
enhanced hearing picked up the soft sound of him wheeling away, leaving her
alone again. With a frustrated groan,
she quickly wrapped herself up in a towel, and scooping up her soiled clothes,
dumped them outside the door in an unceremonious heap. Let him deal with them, it's his damn
fault they're dirty in the first place. Her thoughts were uncharitable as she turned back to the shower,
discarding the towel on the floor as she stepped under the hot spray.
"Wall-eyed,
pig-headed, rankle-assed imbecile, just who the hell does he think he is?" Using some of the more colorful oaths
she'd picked up over the years from her pal Original Cindy, Max continued to
mutter angrily to herself as she stood under the spray, allowing the furious
beat of the water to work some of the tension out of her shoulders and neck.
"Stupid son of a bitch let me go through all of the work to prepare that
dinner, trying to make it special to say thanks for all he does for me…for
Christ's sake, I was attempting to *cook* for the man! And then he goes and pulls something like
this, expecting me to just drop everything and haul ass out to bust the bad
guys. As if I don't do enough of that
shit on a regular basis. As if *he*
doesn't do enough of that crap on a regular basis."
Finally,
with the worst of the mud washed off and her body feeling slightly more
relaxed, Max picked up the bar of soap from the small ceramic dish. The thin chunk appeared to be well-used, it
was over half gone already, and as she began to lather the soap over her body,
the familiar scent of Logan hit her. The fragrance was light and citrus-y, nothing heavy and cloying. So this is what that fragrance is, it's
not cologne like I was thinking. Unbidden,
an image of him entered her mind. With
perfect clarity, she could picture him sitting there on the little bench that
had been installed after his accident, allowing him to shower unaided, and
rubbing the soap all over his body…*all* over his body.
As
a slight tremor ran through her at the mental image, she shoved it away, using
her anger to rid the thought from her mind. With a disgruntled sigh, she returned to her rant, though this time
keeping the words inside her head instead of mumbling them aloud.
What,
like that just *had* to be done tonight? Hell, like it just *had* to be done right that minute? If he was so hell bent on it, I coulda swung
it after we finished eating, there was no reason for us to go rushing out there
that very second. But no, heaven forbid
Logan Cale actually put his own little crusade on hold for a few hours and have
some fun for once.
"Bastard." She scrubbed her soapy hands over her face
before shoving her head under the spray of water, dislodging the last stubborn
traces of mud. After making sure her
hair was completely saturated, she picked up a bottle of shampoo, taking a
moment to read the label before squirting a large amount into her hand. Pantene Pro-V, balanced for normal
hair. She couldn't stop the small
snicker that slipped past her lips, somehow she hadn't pictured Logan using
what she'd always considered to be a woman's shampoo. Explains why his hair always looks so silky soft… With a smirk still on her face, she lathered
up her hair and stuck her head under the nozzle again to rinse.
Her
amusing thoughts didn't distract her for long, and as she distributed
conditioner through her tangled hair her mind leaped back to its original
path. I'm sick of this, obviously he
doesn't really care about me. All he
cares about is his damn mission, saving the world from itself, protecting the
downtrodden, blah blah, woof woof. Bite
me. She groaned in frustration as
an unwanted image of Logan nibbling gently on her neck popped into her
head. "Fuck." Stop it girl, he just did a damn good job
of proving where his loyalties really lie. I'm just his legs, remember? She ran her hands through her hair, fisting them in the slick
strands as she scrunched her eyes shut and allowed the fury to build, washing
the pain and hurt away in the tide of anger.
As
she snapped off the water and dried herself with a large, fluffy towel, her
eyes shot sparks. No one treats me
like a commodity and gets away with it. Standing naked in front of the mirror, she searched through the
drawers until she found a comb. As she
yanked it through her hair, unknotting the silky strands, she examined her
body, trying to be objective. Her legs
were long and shapely with muscle, her belly was flat, her breasts high and
full. Her eyes were wide and deep, and
if she thought her lips were a tad too full, oh well, plenty of men had
professed to love their down-pillow look. If he's too damn blind to see what's right in front of his fucking
nose, well then, it's his own problem, not mine. She honestly had no clue what type of relationship she wanted
from Logan, but still, the thought that he had been more interested in chasing
down baddies than in spending an evening with her, one that she had actually
gone through the trouble to plan, set fire to her blood and made her head
pound. She didn't know what she had
been offering earlier that evening, but if he didn't have the sense to take it
while it was offered, well then, he didn't deserve her, now did he?
Not
a chance. Screw him, and screw his
high-minded ideals. I'm out.
That
last thought rung in her head as she wrapped the towel tightly around her body,
tucking the end between her breasts to secure her makeshift garment. Flinging open the door, she strode out with
confident strides, ready to lay down the law and tell him how it was going to
be.
***
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