Title: Three Ships, Part I: Action
Rating: M
Pairing: Angel/Max
Warnings: femmeslash that's kinda somewhat explicit; slight swearing
Disclaimer: disclaimed
Comments: Sadly, it's not even for a kink meme (but can we call it close enough?)
Angel was educated now about the importance of actions.
She'd majored in psychology, after all; it had seemed like the best idea at the time. She had a certain kind of…sensitivity to others' emotions, she'd told all of her examiners when they asked her how she could always find the answer. In every case assigned, she succeeded, and while those who had taught her were satisfied, they wanted to know her secret. So she'd made it up for them; a simple lie to make them feel better and to make her feel more normal. It wasn't easy for her to blend in because of the whole wings deal, and it irked her that no one bothered to be sensitive to her feelings.
Sensitive? Maybe the only reason they acted as they did was because they couldn't read minds.
The mind reading had been, in general, an advantage in her profession. Though she couldn't talk about things that her patients had not admitted, she could often find the words that would make them talk. And when that didn't work, she could still usually diagnose them correctly. She'd have to blame the diagnosis on something else, of course, but that was too easy these days. It didn't bother her if she had to lie a little bit. Most of these people were here because they were lying anyway, either to themselves or to the world at large.
Angel had also used the mind reading in school: back then, she had lived under the philosophy that she didn't need to learn things for herself if she could learn them from other students. The perfect student; that was Angel. And since she was, well, special, no one had bothered to question it. She'd been rather immoral then; a few talks with Max had straightened that out. She still wasn't a person you'd expect to abide by the honor system, but she was more careful about who she cheated. And she was better about staying out of other people's heads.
The invasion of privacy had always been a bit deal to Max. As part of a bargain she'd made—she couldn't remember the other bit; it had been unimportant—Angel had learned to turn off the part of her mind that sensed others' emotions. Now was one of those times she put this into effect. It felt wrong to her, somehow, to listen to what Max was thinking. Besides, she knew that Max trusted her enough to tell her…well, almost everything, and if something remained unsaid, then it must be for the better.
Sometimes, Angel wished she hadn't become so moral.
Anything had be easier than the way things were now. Angel always felt so vulnerable and uninformed around Max. That in itself was rather odd, because Max had at one point been her safe harbor. She could make anything all right. But things had changed, and they'd gone their separate ways. The next time they saw each other, they had each noted the differences: they were quieter, more refined. More lost, somehow, now that they'd finally found homes.
Angel knew, even without reading her mind, that Max was looking for the feelings she'd had back when the flock was still together. Angel felt the same way herself sometimes.
There was probably a disorder like that, and a fancy name for it, but Angel didn't know what it was.
Either way, she and Max had fallen into each other. Not that Angel needed Max. She was a solitary person, for the most part, much like Max had been. And if Angel needed company, there were always the boyfriends. She was in high demand.
For Max's sake, though, Angel gave up her parties and stayed home. Not all the time, of course; Max had her own place and only came over to Angel's every now and then. Other times they'd have drinks, or maybe just go out together, with just the two of them…it was all in Max's personality, Angel supposed, because Max never seemed to like the parties. She was more shy, and somehow less fond of attention.
Tonight, Max seemed even quieter than usual. She'd refused Angel's invitation to try out the new bar—VIP only, and they could get in easily, Angel had bragged—so vehemently that Angel had just invited her straight over. It was not like Max, really, but Angel hadn't been brave enough to ask why. She always wanted to be connected to what was going on. Max was the only one who would deny her that. She didn't even have to ask most other people what was happening, with as eager as they were to have her attention. They'd talk and talk, telling her anything and everything to ensure she was listening.
She was, of course. She always was.
But Max…Max was different. She was moody; she was difficult; she had so many problems, or she had to. But Angel hadn't been able to find out what they were, because she had vowed to never invade Max's thoughts. And for what she'd heard, she knew no cure.
The only thing she could do right now—hell, it was the only thing she could ever do—was to comfort Max. That was one thing that Angel had learned how to do quite well, and without anyone else's help, too. Maybe it was from knowing Max for so long; maybe it was simply intuition, but she'd known just how to find that part of Max that wasn't yet shut off from Angel and the rest of the world. Soft kisses, first on the lips, then moving down to the neck, and then wherever else need took her until she got a reaction. Every time she used this method, she was scared that Max wouldn't respond. And every time, it seemed, it took Max longer to warm up to her.
Sometimes, Angel was afraid she was going to lose Max forever.
Thankfully, tonight Max seemed plenty involved, offering her own soft kisses in return. She was so skittish these days, as if she thought she would scare Angel off. There was no chance of that; Angel had done it all. Not that she'd mentioned that to Max. It wouldn't have done much to solve the problem.
The reason Max was so wary, Angel had concluded long ago, was because she'd had some messy relationships before. She had never bothered to ask. Then didn't matter; then was over. And this was one situation in which Angel felt no need to analyze. It wouldn't do her any good, anyways. All that was needed was being given.
Max pulled her closer now, and these were the moments that Angel lived for…those times of feeling that she was needed, and of being able to tell herself that she was making a difference. Max's moans, soft in her ear, told Angel that she was doing something correctly. If only Max would always be this responsive.
"I love you, Angel," Max whispered in her ear, and Angel felt the weight of Max's words settling on her.
"I love you, too," she whispered back reflexively, wondering why it felt so much worse to tell that lie to Max than it had to any of the men she'd kept.
As a response, Max ran her hands down Angel as if she was still exploring, though she must have done this hundreds of times, and Angel had to admit that it felt good. And it wasn't just the helping Max, though that was a good thing, too…there was something in the way Max touched her that was pleasurable almost in a way she'd never felt before. However, she told herself she was only here to pay Max back: Angel knew she was deep in Max's debt for all of the things that had happened when they were still young. How she'd know when she and Max were even again and what she'd do then were still mysteries to her. She didn't care to think on such topics.
What she liked to do was to lay here and take what love she could get from Max. She liked to revel in the adoration she received. She liked the feelings…what of, happiness?…that helping Max gave her.
Yet Angel couldn't help but gasp as she felt Max's hands slide beneath her skirt. It wasn't love she was feeling, she knew, but she couldn't think of the name to give it that did it justice. Was it close enough to love; a sort of bond the two had formed that could last them as long as they lived?
Angel had to remind herself that here, she didn't matter: if it was love Max felt, it was love that she had to give. Another lie, but of good meaning…wasn't it close enough to truth? Maybe this whole venture had, in truth, been a mistake, because Angel had never meant anything to come out of it. It had been designed as a one-night stand to banish the loneliness for long enough that Max could pull herself together again. But one night hadn't been long enough for Max, and once started down this path, neither of the two could seem to give it up.
Angel only wished she could feel the same things for Max that Max felt for her.
Actions were important, that was true, but Angel sometimes wondered if the intentions behind them mattered far more than their outcomes.
I'll be posting the next two chapters when I can get around to typing them up, but in the meantime, I'd like crit. This isn't a type of writing I'm very good at yet, but I can (hopefully) make parts II and III better if I know what I'm doing wrong. Thanks much.