Disclaimer: So I'm bloody Billy Shakespeare, what are you going to do about it?
A/N: Here's the shocker...there isn't one!
Winter Storms Before it Thaws
Alec tiredly opened the door to his apartment. Exhausted past transgenic stamina, he collapsed on his sofa. The couch, already on its last legs, groaned in protest. Alec absentmindedly patted the fraying cushion next to him. "I feel your pain buddy," he mumbled, thumping his head back against the rotting frame. He sighed for the millionth time that day and let his eyes drift shut. In his very humble abode, he could let the day drift away, taking the tension in his muscles with it.
Today had just been too long. While he had gotten the cigars to Mole, it seemed a million needed favors sprung up in its place. Joshua could use some paint. Dix wanted the one computer part a body had to sell his worthless soul, along with two others, to come by. Luke needed a friend, at this point in time, preferably a female. And this was when he had walked twenty feet into the room. The list was massive by the time he hit fifty, much less when he - gasp - got all the way across the room.
"I need to learn to say no," he muttered. He was too tired to even walk to his own bed. Lacking his usual grace of motion, he despairingly rolled to his stomach, propping his head on a pillow.
Needless to say, Alec was not ready to receive company thirty minutes later. Life wasn't without Her ironies. Practically mauling the door open, a bat straight out of Hell flew into Alec's apartment. Head whipping around hastily, the eyes set upon the usual victim. A foot swung out towards an unconscious and unsuspecting Alec.
Thwack!
Now Alec at this point in time, was too far gone in his REM cycle to sense Max's swoop in. He had just saved a fair princess from an evil dragon, which Alec could swore resembled Logan, in a very scaly way. The damsel with spun-gold hair, enchanting emerald eyes, and legs for days was just about to receive an out-of-your-world kiss. Then she suddenly blew up, her particles floating softly in the air, before they slammed back together to reveal...Max, complete with the unsmiling eyes and face contorted in a recent fit of rage. That was about the time he felt a small jab in his back. If one could consider a "small jab" like the feeling Plymouth Rock just landed on him.
Thwack!
Disoriented and livid, Alec fumbled to his feet and whirled around, trying to place his attacker. By this time, a somewhat unperturbed Max had daintily placed herself in his sleeping spot. Sitting, she glanced up at him blankly, as if she hadn't just given him a bruise the size of Philly. Steaming he hollered, "What in the name of Sir Isaac Newton was that for?!?" And while Alec's voice might be hoarse tomorrow, she didn't even flinch. He was too pissed to sleep now and Max had already taken up the best cushion on the couch anyway. With a martyr's groan of frustration and pain, he strode into the bathroom and slammed the door with a satisfying CRACK!
Twenty minutes later and feeling a smidgen better, the beast emerged from the bathroom. Not even bothering to look up, he high-tailed it into his room, muttering offensive and foul things about women in general. When a chair had unfortunately set itself in his path, he plowed through it like an express train. He later emerged into the main room, shooting Max a look that would pulverize a lesser person. Much to his satisfaction, she did stop doing that little leg kick thing women do, the one where one leg is crossed over the other and bounces around like it has Attention Deficit Disorder.
He crossed the room and headed for the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. Effectively acting like he was ignoring her while monitoring her every movement in his peripheral vision, he noticed she looked a lot less confident than when he had headed into the shower. Good, she should be nervous. Any women should be nervous when she had just kicked her gallant fiancee out of what had been a beautiful slumber. Especially when he was a transgenic lacking the shark DNA who hadn't had any decent sleep in the last 48 hours.
Against his instincts, Alec opened the conversation on a somewhat mild note. "Did you ever knock on the doors that belonged to the men in your life?"
A disconcerted and edgy Max was not appeased. "We have to talk." She began flatly.
Alec snorted derisively. "About what? Breaking into my apartment? Kicking me out of a deserved sleep?" He ranted for a few minutes, with each question receiving a slam on some object, whether it was a drawer being shut or a spoon or mug clattering against the countertop. For some reason, whether lack of sleep or otherwise, Alec couldn't play the "happy-go-lucky sociopath" today. He was on the edge, and Max was too. "Acting like nothing is going on...?" He cut himself off, not wanting to know where that trail of thought was running off to.
By this time, Max had stood up and crossed the room. By the time Alec had started his final question, Max had placed a rigid hand on his clenching arm. He, not surprisingly, jumped back like he had been bitten. Eyes wide in surprise, he took a quick step back.
"I talked to Logan." She began painfully.
"And?" A suddenly more supportive Alec asked.
"And nothing!" She moaned. "He didn't do anything. He just sat there, looking past me like I didn't exist! He did this little pathetic nod thing! What is that anyway?!?" Distraught, she slammed her arms and head down on the counter, not sure whether to weep or bite someone's fingers off.
Alec was eerily silent. There is that panic that seems to come to men in relationships. The kind of panic that hits when a man is about to walk out the door and head out for a night on the town and his wife asks, "What earrings should I where? The red one's with the white sparkles or the black and blue?" Now this is where the man knows his is officially in the infamous "Screwed, Blued, and Tattooed" phase. Single men would say that the husband has a fifty/fifty chance of choosing the correct pair. The married or dating man understands that this hypothesis, though logical, is scientifically impossible. Whatever pair of earrings he chooses the wife will automatically choose the other. And he knows that he will be as bloody as the red earrings with white sparkles when his wife gets done with him for choosing the black and blue pair. Or he will be "black and blue" when choosing the red ones. Can one say "a rock and a hard place"?
A similar, though more acute panic struck Alec at that precise moment. But Alec, though a mere man, was a good friend. And since he was a good friend he realized that what he had to do to make Max feel better would make him both red AND black and blue. But a good soldier never went into battle without a logical plan thought out. He had two possibilities: Fight or Flight?
He loosely tossed his arm over Max's sunken shoulders. And after a couple of sarcastic pats, he whispered into her ear, "Don't worry Maxie-poo, I am sure Logan-boy is upset. In fact," he dodged his head around the corner, glancing at the clock. "I am sure at this exact moment, he is bawling his computerized heart out, into a very soft and willing shoulder...donated by Asha." He finished cryptically.
Wham!
Then again, plan B never was a bad thing. It was too late now though; the flight ideal had passed him by, leaving him at the mercy of a very enraged, very capable Max. Being a multi-tasking transgenic, he was able to pick himself off the floor, defend his several necessary parts from the next blows, berate himself for being such a nice fiancee and ideal punching bag, all the while ignoring the back of his mind that told him to grab Max's arm, throw her out of the apartment and go back to the original inspiration of sweet slumber.
Meanwhile Max, perfectly incensed, screamed several choice phrases after Alec's virgin ears. Her erratic punches were actually well aimed, and of course well packed. And after being road kill against his own wall for several shots, Alec felt his own temper begin to flare. He may play the egocentric all the time, but it was only a cover for all the faults he saw through Max's eyes. Everyone in Terminal City seemed to hold in some esteem, even though the two-legged variety seemed to place him a little higher on a pedestal than the three-legged type. He never let it go to his head though, taking care of those who needed the help and let those help who needed to find their own niche. He and Joshua had even developed a close friendship, a brotherhood of sorts, DNA aside.
But even after five years, alone in his bathroom, after he had dried off and dressed, wiping the condensation off the mirror, he'd still see the blood on his hands, the detached emotion framing his pupils.
Rachel's confession still ricocheted of his memories, complete with guileless eyes and an easily pleased smile. Six months in Psy. Obs. were relived almost daily. And just when he paused the near masochistic cycle, the last thing he needed was someone relighting the fire in his own self-hatred. Max was always unknowingly ready to push play.
Just like in the cage fight, he'd had enough. Violently twisting around, he backhanded Max across the face. The motion caught her off guard and her head swung back while taking in the harsh impact. Alec's eyes cleared just as Max's welled up. Alec felt the bile rise in his throat. He'd hurt Max. He'd hurt her just when she needed him the most, never mind that the situation had been in the reverse placement several times and he had been the one kicked down. Now was not the time to settle any type of scores. The pain might be more emotional than physical, but a red welt hastily covered her cheek.
Max just stared at him. Her eyes would have been perfectly blank if it wasn't for the tears that streamed unhidden down her cheeks. Alec just gaped back, shocked at his own reaction. After several moments of silence he stepped forward hesitantly, purposely not noticing her inching back at his larger steps.
Max was cornered against the wall, part of her shirking at his whatever his next movement would be. She deserved the slap; she was too smart to deny that. She had been asking for it for sometime, constantly putting him down for things that she knew he couldn't control. It didn't help that he'd been an easy target. Like some dysfunctional sacrificial lamb, he had gone to her alter several a time, never bleating out that his self-image had been debased in any sort of way. Except for his eyes. His eyes followed her everywhere some days. Some days she could ignore their probing, trying to see if she was going to be all right. It was just too much sometimes, his nonchalant way of keeping her safe. If he'd just brag about how good he was to her once in a while, she could push him off easier. It was how it never came back to him. He seemed to serve her because he genuinely wanted to help, not because he owed her anything. She owed him. After working their way from enemies to associates to friendship to some sort of deranged pseudo-confidants, she'd no right to treat him the way she did.
Alec watched Max try to shrink into the decaying wallpaper, his personal hatred starting up again. Despite all her bellyaching against him, she had always seemed to value their friendship. Sure, she said some snide remarks, but his deranged sense of humor asked for it sometimes. She'd busted him out of jail several times, and even though she would yell at him all the way into the sunset, he could tell it was a sheer cover for her worry over him. And after five years of a growing love-hate friendship, he'd hurt her.
He knew what it meant to be slapped by someone you cared about, no matter how hard they'd both tried to deny it.
Cautiously, his fingers lightly traced the swelling cheek. Shocked out of her contemplations, Max slammed herself back against the wall. The fingers snapped back. Alec's wounded eyes were soon covered by concern. When she seemed a bit calmer, he reached for her cheek again, but she only shied away. Besides the first battle between them in the alley, and the night after a particularly bad Logan-spell, they didn't do intimate contact. Theirs wasn't a touchy-feely relationship, unless they were being swallowed by a severe moment of weakness and needed a lifeline.
After a long moment and they had both conveyed their apologies silently, they decided to step out of the corner they were trapped in. Unfortunately, it was in the same direction. After two bumped heads, a quick catch, and a couple of nervous giggles, they both straightened. Max was still smiling. Always a good sign.
Alec took a lighter approach and ran with it, "Do you think we will stop bumping heads after we're married?"
Max smiled. "Not a snowball's chance in Hell," she quipped.
Alec let out a real laugh this time, soon joined by Max. When the laughter died down, they were still standing close. Too close.
"Well," Max joked. "That was fun, let's never do that again sometime."
"Never," Alec repeated softly.
Unnerved by his eyes, she strode out the door, leaving Alec to treacherous thoughts.
*****
Logan stopped by Terminal City the next day. Joshua greeted him with his usual enthusiasm: a large hug and several excited phrases breathed in poor Logan's face, most of them indecipherable due to close range and bad breath. After several minutes of tail wagging conversation, there was a quick change in subject. "So where is Max anyway, Joshua?" Logan asked.
"Max and Alec making plans for the..." Joshua stopped suddenly, not wanting to give away his friends.
"Wedding?" Logan finished.
Joshua was obviously relieved. "Max..."
"Yeah, she told me."
"Only 18 months Logan."
"Yeah, I know."
Suddenly uncomfortable, Josh decided to fork Logan over to Max. He quickly swept him into a secluded conference room area, where Max and Alec seemed to be bent over a serious planning session. Alec noticed him first; Max had her back to Logan. Alec glanced up, shooting him an apologetic smile. Barely heartened and still burning with jealousy, he shot Alec a look, which roughly translated to "be careful," or "just treat her right." Alec imperceptibly nodded, to all three counts.
Noticing his short attention span had been lost yet again, she glared at Alec. "Alec," she warned. "If I turn around and see some dirty blonde bimbo with a big chest, I swear to the Blue Lady that I'll smack your head so hard you'll be relearning to tie your shoes."
Alec leveled his gaze back on Max. "One," he started, numbering off on his fingers. "I don't prefer dirty blondes; it's either blonde or brunette, no middle for me. Two, there's more to a girl than a chest...there are still eyes to worry about, butt size and shape, legs, and of course..." he trailed of suggestively. "...Necks." He quipped, dodging a playful slap. "What did you think I was going to say? YOU have the dirty mind between two of us. I'm not sure if I'm safe alone with you." He picked up where he left off. "Third, what makes you think I have to do something so demeaning as tying my own shoes when there are so many fine women around here to do it for me? And finally," his smirk only widened further, if it was possible. "The dirty blond behind you is..." he inserted a tiny drum roll. "Logan."
Okay so he didn't take the double meaning on "be careful" so seriously. Could a body blame him?
Max predictably whirled around, almost launching herself out of her chair in the process. "Careful Maxie, soon you'll be falling for the guy," she heard behind her. Logan glared at the perp while Max mumbled for him to shut up.
Logan strove to make it a light "Wedding plans?" But it didn't seem as light as Alec's "bumping heads" comment.
"Yup. Well, actually, we finished those up quite a while ago. Now we're just planning out everybody moving out, who's going where, preparation for the real world, the usual. A lot of us are just afraid of people's reactions, especially the transhumans. But amazingly enough, they have actually been pretty accepting, even after only five years." She finished.
She suddenly felt nervous. Logan had obviously spotted the slight swelling on her cheek, sending several accusatory looks in Alec's direction. Even after several hours, it hadn't quite died down. But Alec had though; it was obvious that he would never hit her like that again. Just to look at him, every time he looked at her he tensed up at the bruise. An apologetic look always poured out of him, followed by Max's small smile of comfort.
"Yeah," Alec agreed. "Who needs to worry about wedding plans? We will probably just wear jeans and sign the papers anyway. In fact," he chuckled. "I was just wondering if we should just pick up divorce paper while we were at the justice's office. Save a trip."
Off of Max's glare, Alec decided he'd had enough fun by her standards. "Leaving," he said, dragging Josh out the door with him. Who needs another angst session?
*****
Alec was cleaning out the barrel of shotgun a couple hours later, when he suddenly glanced to the dog next to him. "Hey, Picasso," he called. "Original Cindy was telling me once how Max could barely boil water, much less make Mac and Cheese with little dogs." Joshua smiled at the mention of his personal specialty. "So, not to be the stereotypical male, but I don't want to have to cook every night for the next 18 months. I mean, I can cook for myself, but two people? I could go into shock. So I am asking you what is my incentive for marrying Max? How am I going to benefit?"
Joshua set down his brush, pondering the question. After a pregnant silence he said. "Maybe Max kiss better than cook."
After sharing a hearty laugh, Alec went to give the shotgun to Mole. Joshua gazed after him.
He had only been half joking.
A/N #2: Change of plans. The line, "I kiss better than I cook," ain't mine. I stole it off a kitchen magnet. Pathetic or what?
A/N: Here's the shocker...there isn't one!
Winter Storms Before it Thaws
Alec tiredly opened the door to his apartment. Exhausted past transgenic stamina, he collapsed on his sofa. The couch, already on its last legs, groaned in protest. Alec absentmindedly patted the fraying cushion next to him. "I feel your pain buddy," he mumbled, thumping his head back against the rotting frame. He sighed for the millionth time that day and let his eyes drift shut. In his very humble abode, he could let the day drift away, taking the tension in his muscles with it.
Today had just been too long. While he had gotten the cigars to Mole, it seemed a million needed favors sprung up in its place. Joshua could use some paint. Dix wanted the one computer part a body had to sell his worthless soul, along with two others, to come by. Luke needed a friend, at this point in time, preferably a female. And this was when he had walked twenty feet into the room. The list was massive by the time he hit fifty, much less when he - gasp - got all the way across the room.
"I need to learn to say no," he muttered. He was too tired to even walk to his own bed. Lacking his usual grace of motion, he despairingly rolled to his stomach, propping his head on a pillow.
Needless to say, Alec was not ready to receive company thirty minutes later. Life wasn't without Her ironies. Practically mauling the door open, a bat straight out of Hell flew into Alec's apartment. Head whipping around hastily, the eyes set upon the usual victim. A foot swung out towards an unconscious and unsuspecting Alec.
Thwack!
Now Alec at this point in time, was too far gone in his REM cycle to sense Max's swoop in. He had just saved a fair princess from an evil dragon, which Alec could swore resembled Logan, in a very scaly way. The damsel with spun-gold hair, enchanting emerald eyes, and legs for days was just about to receive an out-of-your-world kiss. Then she suddenly blew up, her particles floating softly in the air, before they slammed back together to reveal...Max, complete with the unsmiling eyes and face contorted in a recent fit of rage. That was about the time he felt a small jab in his back. If one could consider a "small jab" like the feeling Plymouth Rock just landed on him.
Thwack!
Disoriented and livid, Alec fumbled to his feet and whirled around, trying to place his attacker. By this time, a somewhat unperturbed Max had daintily placed herself in his sleeping spot. Sitting, she glanced up at him blankly, as if she hadn't just given him a bruise the size of Philly. Steaming he hollered, "What in the name of Sir Isaac Newton was that for?!?" And while Alec's voice might be hoarse tomorrow, she didn't even flinch. He was too pissed to sleep now and Max had already taken up the best cushion on the couch anyway. With a martyr's groan of frustration and pain, he strode into the bathroom and slammed the door with a satisfying CRACK!
Twenty minutes later and feeling a smidgen better, the beast emerged from the bathroom. Not even bothering to look up, he high-tailed it into his room, muttering offensive and foul things about women in general. When a chair had unfortunately set itself in his path, he plowed through it like an express train. He later emerged into the main room, shooting Max a look that would pulverize a lesser person. Much to his satisfaction, she did stop doing that little leg kick thing women do, the one where one leg is crossed over the other and bounces around like it has Attention Deficit Disorder.
He crossed the room and headed for the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee. Effectively acting like he was ignoring her while monitoring her every movement in his peripheral vision, he noticed she looked a lot less confident than when he had headed into the shower. Good, she should be nervous. Any women should be nervous when she had just kicked her gallant fiancee out of what had been a beautiful slumber. Especially when he was a transgenic lacking the shark DNA who hadn't had any decent sleep in the last 48 hours.
Against his instincts, Alec opened the conversation on a somewhat mild note. "Did you ever knock on the doors that belonged to the men in your life?"
A disconcerted and edgy Max was not appeased. "We have to talk." She began flatly.
Alec snorted derisively. "About what? Breaking into my apartment? Kicking me out of a deserved sleep?" He ranted for a few minutes, with each question receiving a slam on some object, whether it was a drawer being shut or a spoon or mug clattering against the countertop. For some reason, whether lack of sleep or otherwise, Alec couldn't play the "happy-go-lucky sociopath" today. He was on the edge, and Max was too. "Acting like nothing is going on...?" He cut himself off, not wanting to know where that trail of thought was running off to.
By this time, Max had stood up and crossed the room. By the time Alec had started his final question, Max had placed a rigid hand on his clenching arm. He, not surprisingly, jumped back like he had been bitten. Eyes wide in surprise, he took a quick step back.
"I talked to Logan." She began painfully.
"And?" A suddenly more supportive Alec asked.
"And nothing!" She moaned. "He didn't do anything. He just sat there, looking past me like I didn't exist! He did this little pathetic nod thing! What is that anyway?!?" Distraught, she slammed her arms and head down on the counter, not sure whether to weep or bite someone's fingers off.
Alec was eerily silent. There is that panic that seems to come to men in relationships. The kind of panic that hits when a man is about to walk out the door and head out for a night on the town and his wife asks, "What earrings should I where? The red one's with the white sparkles or the black and blue?" Now this is where the man knows his is officially in the infamous "Screwed, Blued, and Tattooed" phase. Single men would say that the husband has a fifty/fifty chance of choosing the correct pair. The married or dating man understands that this hypothesis, though logical, is scientifically impossible. Whatever pair of earrings he chooses the wife will automatically choose the other. And he knows that he will be as bloody as the red earrings with white sparkles when his wife gets done with him for choosing the black and blue pair. Or he will be "black and blue" when choosing the red ones. Can one say "a rock and a hard place"?
A similar, though more acute panic struck Alec at that precise moment. But Alec, though a mere man, was a good friend. And since he was a good friend he realized that what he had to do to make Max feel better would make him both red AND black and blue. But a good soldier never went into battle without a logical plan thought out. He had two possibilities: Fight or Flight?
He loosely tossed his arm over Max's sunken shoulders. And after a couple of sarcastic pats, he whispered into her ear, "Don't worry Maxie-poo, I am sure Logan-boy is upset. In fact," he dodged his head around the corner, glancing at the clock. "I am sure at this exact moment, he is bawling his computerized heart out, into a very soft and willing shoulder...donated by Asha." He finished cryptically.
Wham!
Then again, plan B never was a bad thing. It was too late now though; the flight ideal had passed him by, leaving him at the mercy of a very enraged, very capable Max. Being a multi-tasking transgenic, he was able to pick himself off the floor, defend his several necessary parts from the next blows, berate himself for being such a nice fiancee and ideal punching bag, all the while ignoring the back of his mind that told him to grab Max's arm, throw her out of the apartment and go back to the original inspiration of sweet slumber.
Meanwhile Max, perfectly incensed, screamed several choice phrases after Alec's virgin ears. Her erratic punches were actually well aimed, and of course well packed. And after being road kill against his own wall for several shots, Alec felt his own temper begin to flare. He may play the egocentric all the time, but it was only a cover for all the faults he saw through Max's eyes. Everyone in Terminal City seemed to hold in some esteem, even though the two-legged variety seemed to place him a little higher on a pedestal than the three-legged type. He never let it go to his head though, taking care of those who needed the help and let those help who needed to find their own niche. He and Joshua had even developed a close friendship, a brotherhood of sorts, DNA aside.
But even after five years, alone in his bathroom, after he had dried off and dressed, wiping the condensation off the mirror, he'd still see the blood on his hands, the detached emotion framing his pupils.
Rachel's confession still ricocheted of his memories, complete with guileless eyes and an easily pleased smile. Six months in Psy. Obs. were relived almost daily. And just when he paused the near masochistic cycle, the last thing he needed was someone relighting the fire in his own self-hatred. Max was always unknowingly ready to push play.
Just like in the cage fight, he'd had enough. Violently twisting around, he backhanded Max across the face. The motion caught her off guard and her head swung back while taking in the harsh impact. Alec's eyes cleared just as Max's welled up. Alec felt the bile rise in his throat. He'd hurt Max. He'd hurt her just when she needed him the most, never mind that the situation had been in the reverse placement several times and he had been the one kicked down. Now was not the time to settle any type of scores. The pain might be more emotional than physical, but a red welt hastily covered her cheek.
Max just stared at him. Her eyes would have been perfectly blank if it wasn't for the tears that streamed unhidden down her cheeks. Alec just gaped back, shocked at his own reaction. After several moments of silence he stepped forward hesitantly, purposely not noticing her inching back at his larger steps.
Max was cornered against the wall, part of her shirking at his whatever his next movement would be. She deserved the slap; she was too smart to deny that. She had been asking for it for sometime, constantly putting him down for things that she knew he couldn't control. It didn't help that he'd been an easy target. Like some dysfunctional sacrificial lamb, he had gone to her alter several a time, never bleating out that his self-image had been debased in any sort of way. Except for his eyes. His eyes followed her everywhere some days. Some days she could ignore their probing, trying to see if she was going to be all right. It was just too much sometimes, his nonchalant way of keeping her safe. If he'd just brag about how good he was to her once in a while, she could push him off easier. It was how it never came back to him. He seemed to serve her because he genuinely wanted to help, not because he owed her anything. She owed him. After working their way from enemies to associates to friendship to some sort of deranged pseudo-confidants, she'd no right to treat him the way she did.
Alec watched Max try to shrink into the decaying wallpaper, his personal hatred starting up again. Despite all her bellyaching against him, she had always seemed to value their friendship. Sure, she said some snide remarks, but his deranged sense of humor asked for it sometimes. She'd busted him out of jail several times, and even though she would yell at him all the way into the sunset, he could tell it was a sheer cover for her worry over him. And after five years of a growing love-hate friendship, he'd hurt her.
He knew what it meant to be slapped by someone you cared about, no matter how hard they'd both tried to deny it.
Cautiously, his fingers lightly traced the swelling cheek. Shocked out of her contemplations, Max slammed herself back against the wall. The fingers snapped back. Alec's wounded eyes were soon covered by concern. When she seemed a bit calmer, he reached for her cheek again, but she only shied away. Besides the first battle between them in the alley, and the night after a particularly bad Logan-spell, they didn't do intimate contact. Theirs wasn't a touchy-feely relationship, unless they were being swallowed by a severe moment of weakness and needed a lifeline.
After a long moment and they had both conveyed their apologies silently, they decided to step out of the corner they were trapped in. Unfortunately, it was in the same direction. After two bumped heads, a quick catch, and a couple of nervous giggles, they both straightened. Max was still smiling. Always a good sign.
Alec took a lighter approach and ran with it, "Do you think we will stop bumping heads after we're married?"
Max smiled. "Not a snowball's chance in Hell," she quipped.
Alec let out a real laugh this time, soon joined by Max. When the laughter died down, they were still standing close. Too close.
"Well," Max joked. "That was fun, let's never do that again sometime."
"Never," Alec repeated softly.
Unnerved by his eyes, she strode out the door, leaving Alec to treacherous thoughts.
*****
Logan stopped by Terminal City the next day. Joshua greeted him with his usual enthusiasm: a large hug and several excited phrases breathed in poor Logan's face, most of them indecipherable due to close range and bad breath. After several minutes of tail wagging conversation, there was a quick change in subject. "So where is Max anyway, Joshua?" Logan asked.
"Max and Alec making plans for the..." Joshua stopped suddenly, not wanting to give away his friends.
"Wedding?" Logan finished.
Joshua was obviously relieved. "Max..."
"Yeah, she told me."
"Only 18 months Logan."
"Yeah, I know."
Suddenly uncomfortable, Josh decided to fork Logan over to Max. He quickly swept him into a secluded conference room area, where Max and Alec seemed to be bent over a serious planning session. Alec noticed him first; Max had her back to Logan. Alec glanced up, shooting him an apologetic smile. Barely heartened and still burning with jealousy, he shot Alec a look, which roughly translated to "be careful," or "just treat her right." Alec imperceptibly nodded, to all three counts.
Noticing his short attention span had been lost yet again, she glared at Alec. "Alec," she warned. "If I turn around and see some dirty blonde bimbo with a big chest, I swear to the Blue Lady that I'll smack your head so hard you'll be relearning to tie your shoes."
Alec leveled his gaze back on Max. "One," he started, numbering off on his fingers. "I don't prefer dirty blondes; it's either blonde or brunette, no middle for me. Two, there's more to a girl than a chest...there are still eyes to worry about, butt size and shape, legs, and of course..." he trailed of suggestively. "...Necks." He quipped, dodging a playful slap. "What did you think I was going to say? YOU have the dirty mind between two of us. I'm not sure if I'm safe alone with you." He picked up where he left off. "Third, what makes you think I have to do something so demeaning as tying my own shoes when there are so many fine women around here to do it for me? And finally," his smirk only widened further, if it was possible. "The dirty blond behind you is..." he inserted a tiny drum roll. "Logan."
Okay so he didn't take the double meaning on "be careful" so seriously. Could a body blame him?
Max predictably whirled around, almost launching herself out of her chair in the process. "Careful Maxie, soon you'll be falling for the guy," she heard behind her. Logan glared at the perp while Max mumbled for him to shut up.
Logan strove to make it a light "Wedding plans?" But it didn't seem as light as Alec's "bumping heads" comment.
"Yup. Well, actually, we finished those up quite a while ago. Now we're just planning out everybody moving out, who's going where, preparation for the real world, the usual. A lot of us are just afraid of people's reactions, especially the transhumans. But amazingly enough, they have actually been pretty accepting, even after only five years." She finished.
She suddenly felt nervous. Logan had obviously spotted the slight swelling on her cheek, sending several accusatory looks in Alec's direction. Even after several hours, it hadn't quite died down. But Alec had though; it was obvious that he would never hit her like that again. Just to look at him, every time he looked at her he tensed up at the bruise. An apologetic look always poured out of him, followed by Max's small smile of comfort.
"Yeah," Alec agreed. "Who needs to worry about wedding plans? We will probably just wear jeans and sign the papers anyway. In fact," he chuckled. "I was just wondering if we should just pick up divorce paper while we were at the justice's office. Save a trip."
Off of Max's glare, Alec decided he'd had enough fun by her standards. "Leaving," he said, dragging Josh out the door with him. Who needs another angst session?
*****
Alec was cleaning out the barrel of shotgun a couple hours later, when he suddenly glanced to the dog next to him. "Hey, Picasso," he called. "Original Cindy was telling me once how Max could barely boil water, much less make Mac and Cheese with little dogs." Joshua smiled at the mention of his personal specialty. "So, not to be the stereotypical male, but I don't want to have to cook every night for the next 18 months. I mean, I can cook for myself, but two people? I could go into shock. So I am asking you what is my incentive for marrying Max? How am I going to benefit?"
Joshua set down his brush, pondering the question. After a pregnant silence he said. "Maybe Max kiss better than cook."
After sharing a hearty laugh, Alec went to give the shotgun to Mole. Joshua gazed after him.
He had only been half joking.
A/N #2: Change of plans. The line, "I kiss better than I cook," ain't mine. I stole it off a kitchen magnet. Pathetic or what?