Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
A/N: This is a response to the weekly challenge on Raising Hell. The prompt was "Thought when sober, said when drunk." Interestingly enough, the prompt did not inspire me to write something for the more popular ships - ML, MA, but a MW fic. Hmm. Well, this is actually my first Max/White piece, so...I'm not sure how it is lol. But comments/criticism welcomed. If this isn't a ship you entertain, don't bother reading it. Otherwise, enjoy! Please read and review!
Another Night in Seattle
It was an ordinary night like any other. Shadows danced along the walls of abandoned buildings, created by the small fires meant to keep those without a shelter warm. On the rooftops, a lone figure scurried along, carrying a prized possession recently acquired through a heist.
In a bar below those rooftops, a man downs another glass of beer, having had a long day of work. His suit was wrinkled, as it tended to be after a rough day. Perhaps it wouldn't be this way had he been assigned a slightly different project, but at least now, he could further the agenda of those who valued him more than his employers.
Even in a drunken stupor, his eyes couldn't help but notice a familiar figure jumping gracefully from two stories above. No one else in the bar noticed. They were weak and pathetic after all, but this person he watched wasn't. She was special...too special. His eyes continued to watch her movements, reminding him very much of a cat. He didn't understand why he was still sitting here downing even more alcohol when he should have left the instant he saw her to eliminate her, but he did have a rough day, and the work day was over. Even he deserved a break, even if his mind didn't register the pain his body should be feeling from a long day's work.
Against his better judgment, he finally paid for his drinks and left the bar to prove his kind was superior. He would rid the freaks of their leader once and for all. It wasn't difficult to follow her in the darkness. Once he forced his mind to ignore the effects alcohol would have on any normal person, he was able to focus on the task he had to complete. He finally rounded a corner and saw that she had led him to an alleyway. He smirked – this was too easy. He had her cornered.
"You must be a bit off today White," Max said as she turned around to face him. "Thought you would have known I was leading you here."
White then realized perhaps he hadn't been focusing as well as he thought he was. She knew he was following her, and she had set a trap. He would turn things around though – he always did. "So what if I did, 452?"
Max then recognized the faint scent of alcohol emitting from his breath and wrinkled her nose. "So you psychopaths drink. I hope your brain can handle a little bit of alcohol," she smirked knowingly. He was definitely not at his best.
White narrowed his eyes. "For your information, 452, we are more than capable of handling a variety of toxins known to affect the weak, even better than you freaks," White spat.
Max shrugged. "Sure doesn't look like it," she observed.
White stumbled forward a bit, reaching for his gun as he did. Perhaps he shouldn't have had that last drink. It was gradually becoming more and more difficult to concentrate. He knew deep down that Familiars had limits, but seeing 452 today distracted him. It was always 452. That last time he drank so much was when she took away his son. He gripped the gun tighter, aiming it at the freak. She would pay for taking his son away. "Shut up 452."
As he fired a shot, Max blurred right next to him, disarming him with ease. "Is that all you got?" she taunted. Her theft had been far too easy, and although she hated to admit it, her transgenic side was just dying for some kick-butt action.
White growled in rage, charging at Max, who easily sidestepped his attack. She smiled, knowing this would be an easy win that she could tease him about later. The Familiar was far too stubborn to admit he was drunk. Of course, the best scenario would include no 'later' but killing him was out of the question. The media was already against transgenics, and his death would only fuel their hate. As she blocked another attack and sent a few punches back, she couldn't help but notice the look in his eyes which sent chills down her spine.
White threw attack after attack, none of which seemed to make it through. He couldn't remember the last fight he had with 452, but he was certain it wasn't this difficult. As his eyes briefly wandered over her body, he was reminded of when he first saw her. He wasn't lying when he told her she was far more beautiful in person than in her picture, and now that they were fighting this close together, the guilty thoughts he had that day were fresh in his mind again. He had wanted her – it was pure lust, but there was no denying that he had been attracted to her. He had gone home early that day, taking a cold shower and reminding himself that he was married and had a son. He was disgusted with himself for wanting the piece of scum, but if his quack scientist for a father did anything right, it was making the X series easy on the eyes. As the days carried on and 452 became the thorn on his side, a part of him admired her for her talents. She was no ordinary Manticore soldier.
Max finally caught a punch White threw and sent him spinning towards the ground. "You're off your game today, White. Bad day at work?"
White glared at her, slowly picking himself up when 452 made no motion to move and attack him further. "You're just lucky today, 452. Don't expect to make it out alive next time," he threatened, but the threat was weak, for he was yet again intoxicated by her beauty. It must have been the alcohol. There was no other explanation for his growing desire. This was so wrong.
"You'll try, but you'll never suc--" Max was caught off guard when White shoved her against the wall, exhibiting a speed she had not seen him use in his drunken state. A few seconds later, lips came crashing down onto hers. All her thoughts were scattered as the realization of the situation dawned on her. Perhaps what surprised her even more, however, was that she didn't resist. Her mouth opened, allowing him access.
A few minutes later, the two broke the kiss for air, and both of them were suddenly aware of what had happened. White was the first to back off, cursing himself for the situation. "I'm sorry," he muttered lamely. It was not like him to apologize, and he didn't even understand why he had done it to begin with.
Max looked at him, stunned. She wasn't sure what to say herself. The situation had come onto them so unexpectedly, yet neither of them seemed to really hate what had happened, nor were they disgusted by it. This was definitely not a good thing.
White ran his hand through his hair and went to search for his gun, yet it wasn't exactly an easy task to do in the darkness of night. Although his eyesight had adjusted to the darkness, and it was relatively greater than most humans, he didn't have the gift of night vision like the transgenics did. He should have just left and come search for the gun later. He should have distanced himself from 452 after what happened. He should have just left, but he didn't.
Max knew she should have left and distanced herself from him before anything else happened. Hell, better yet, she should have killed him for what he just did, but she couldn't. She stood there paralyzed, watching as he searched for his gun.
White seemed to finally notice her presence. She didn't run. He smirked. "I see you're not going to kill me for that, 452. Should I take that as a compliment?" he teased. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he clamped it shut again. Why the hell did I just say that?!
Max clenched her fist but decided it would be wiser to not attack. It might lead to something else, and she was not going to take that chance with her enemy. "As much as you deserve to die for that stunt, my people can't afford another disastrous news report detailing all the gory details of how a helpless federal agent was attacked by a kick-ass female transgenic," she sassed.
White smirked. "I hate to break it to you, 452, but you would be far from receiving credit for my death. My people will ensure the ugliest freak in your family makes the front page news. That dog-man friend of yours served us well. I'm sure people will recognize him now."
Max was at his side in seconds, her hands around his neck. "When you die, I will make sure the public knows what type of scumbag you are. My people won't be held responsible for it," she promised.
White choked a bit as she lifted him off the ground. "I don't blame you for taking Ray," White began abruptly as he felt the last bit of life in him drain. It was a moment of weakness caused by the feeling of being moments away from death, as well as the alcohol. The damn alcohol. "He wouldn't have a childhood with my people, stuck in training until adulthood. If you're going to kill me, just tell me if he's alive," he gasped in between breaths.
Max blinked as she realized she was suffocating the bastard. Not that he didn't deserve it, but she didn't want him dead right now. She threw him aside, and against her better judgment, she told him. "He's alive."
White looked up to meet her eyes, wondering if she was telling the truth, but she was gone. He sat there, recovering from his near death experience. His head was pounding now, if not from the fight, then from the alcohol. He picked himself up, seeing his gun only a few feet from him. It was a wonder why he hadn't found it earlier. He smiled slightly, placing the gun back in its holster and headed home. It was the best drink he had had in days. He wondered if he would remember any of this the following day.