Roswell Fanatics

I made a banner for this fic...

A/N: Has ties to Part Four of this story... It’s what gives it it’s meaning Hope you all figure it out

Part Twenty-One

Max slammed the screen of his laptop down with a little too much gusto but he was up on his feet and moving across the room to his cupboard in search of his sneakers before he even thought about it. He jammed his feet into his sneakers and quickly tied a double knot, grabbing his sweatshirt on the way out the door. He didn’t even bother warming up and set off down the street at a pace that was much too fast.

An e-card. A fuckiing e-card.

Who the fuck sends e-cards?

And a jingly one at that. Not even a cute one. Not a sentimental one. No, no. One that jingled and would have been as well coming from one of the receptionists at the University rather than someone who was supposed to have been his best friend for the best part of two decades. Fucker. Who the fuck did she think she was? At least he’d had the decency to write her a proper Christmas card, with little kisses under his name and everything. And what did he get for his trouble? A fucking electronic, jingling card, signed ‘Liz’ that was so impersonal it had been sent to his fucking junk mail folder.

Fucking e-cards.

It was only when he put his hand in his pocket to press play on his iPod that Max realised he hadn’t brought it, and then a further ten seconds to realise that it was absolutely pouring with rain and given how far he was from his home, he had been out in it for a good twenty minutes. He was surprised that rain was even landing on him rather than evaporating given how hot his face probably was from his anger.

He slowed to a stop outside of a building that could maybe be a library, possibly a museum and sank down onto the steps outside the main door. He was already soaked; there was no need to try and keep dry now. He swiped the soaked bangs from his forehead and cradled his head in his hands for a few minutes as he regulated his breathing.

He was annoyed. That was a given. He’d been on the verge of deleting his junk box without even looking but something had told him he had better check just in case. He almost wished he hadn’t because then he wouldn’t have known that she’d sent that hideous, impersonal message to him and he’d have been spared the cold he was no doubt going to get from his almost midnight run. He just... couldn’t believe it. He’d decided to be the bigger person and send her a card the week before. He hadn’t expected anything in return; he just wanted to let her know that he’d been thinking about her and that he still cared about her, despite everything that went down.

And she had pretty much just thrown it back in his face with her ridiculous e-card-of-nothingness. He was sure that, despite everything, he still meant something to her. Even a tiny thing. Even if it was just a shared past and not a present or future. But, apparently he’d been wrong. Or rather, he’d been right in guessing that she hadn’t felt the same way he had about her.

A fucking e-card.

Abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous.

He shook his head and rose.

He’d did his part. She had said her piece. Maybe he could finally let it – let her – go.

--

“An e-card, Michael! A fucking e-card! I mean, who the hell actually sends those? Is that all I mean to her? A quick glance through hallmark for the tackiest piece of tack she can find? I mean... Fuck!”

Michael sighed on the other end of the line and Max dropped back into his recliner.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. At least she sent you something; she could have just ignored you completely.”

Max sighed.

“I think I might have preferred that.”

Michael chuckled darkly and Max closed his eyes, scrubbing his hand down his face as he stared out at the dawn.

“You’re a sick fuck, Maxwell.” Max didn’t respond. “But I think you know that already.”

“Whatever, Michael.”

“Look... Liz obviously has her reasons. But to me, the most obvious one is that she doesn’t have your address.”

Max let out an incredulous laugh at that.

“Really Michael? That’s the best you could come up with?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I sent her a card, Michael.”

“Yeah, with no return address.”

Max paused.

Oh. Yeah. He hadn’t added his address to any of the cards he’d sent out, mainly because everyone knew his return address. Well, almost everyone.

“Yeah,” Michael drawled and Max growled. “Look, I get that maybe an e-card wasn’t the best idea but she’s just as stubborn as you are and since you haven’t given any indication that you want her to contact you, I think it’s pretty fucking miraculous that she sent you anything at all.”

“But an e-card, Michael?”

There was a long silence and Max could imagine Michael lifting his eyebrow as he glared at Max. Max huffed.

“Was it at least funny?”

Max tried to remember. He hadn’t really thought about it, too pissed off to even acknowledge much about it other than its impersonal nature and tacky design. He winced and sighed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know.” Michael snorted. “Shut up, Michael,” he grumbled and hung up amidst Michael’s raucous laughter. He dropped his phone onto the sofa beside him and looked over at his laptop on the desk in the corner. After a moment of thought, he was over at it, powering it up. As he waited, he tapped idly on the keys, rubbing marks off the screen. Typing in his password, the screen opened up as he had left it. He took a breath, his finger hovering over the scroll button. Would it be funny? Did he want it to be? He sighed and pressed down, scrolling back up to the top of the screen and pressed the ‘Play’ button in the corner. The video box opened and he choked out a laugh at the jiggling Christmas tree on display in front of him.

He watched for almost a full minute as the tree danced around the screen, jingling Christmas tunes to him. At least it was funny.

He was about to click the “X” to close the window when the screen changed again and his heart skipped... quite a few beats. The smile that spread across his lips kick started his heart and he let out a strangled laugh and stared at the screen for a few more minutes before closing it down.

“To my husband, at Christmas.”

Christmas was a strange affair. It was the first one for as long as he could remember that he had shared without Liz, or that he’d gone back to Roswell for. Isabel had been back for almost a week by the time he’d landed and the house was looked like the Christmas Nazi had taken control of the decorations.

“Dad went a little over board with the garden, don’t you think?” She asked as she approached. Sitting in the large overstuffed chair in the lounge, Max had been staring out of the window at the garden for almost an hour without actually looking at the garden. He nodded anyway and smiled to his sister; it had been too long since he had last seen her. “I like it though.”

Max quirked an eyebrow.

“You didn’t change any of the layout at all?”

She hid her smile by turning her head away to look out of the window with him and Max smirked, shaking his head slightly.

“Well, maybe a little.” She perched on the window sill, the street lights illuminating her features with an amber glow that was strangely flattering and Max thought that her photographer might like the profile shot of her. He shook the thought away and sighed. “I didn’t get to decorate my apartment in Berlin,” she said and Max quirked an eyebrow at her. “Too busy and I knew I’d get to do it here so...”

Max smiled, reaching out his hand to touch her elbow. She looked down to him with a soft smile and Max looked away. He’d missed his sister, while she’d been gone. He took in her complexion; paler than when he’d last seen her but she looked happy. He smiled for her.

“You should come back to San Francisco with me for a couple of days before you head home.” She hesitated and when Max tried to meet her gaze, she avoided it. His breath hitched. “What?”

“I’m going to Boston,” she said quietly, looking at him from the corner of her eye and Max felt all the breath leave him in one long woosh.

“Oh,” he said stupidly and looked away from her apologetic features.

“I thought you could come with me?”

“I don’t have time,” he answered shortly and held his breath as he heard her move.

They were silent for a long time after that, just watching the soft fluttering of snow out of the window, listening to the carollers who were strolling the deserted Christmas Eve streets.

“I spoke to Liz,” Isabel said sometime later and Max turned to stare at her, silent. “She told me what happened.”

“Really?” He hadn’t meant to sound as condescending as he did and Isabel raised her eyebrow but he didn’t apologise.

“Yes.” She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re an idiot-“

“You’re taking her side, too then?” He guffawed and turned his sharp gaze back to her; she reflected it back, much more effectively but he didn’t stop. “Did she tell you everything? About how she didn’t speak to me at all for four days after it happened? How she didn’t come home and when she did, she kicked me out of her apartment? Did she tell you that I had to ask Michael what the hell was going on because she was too stubborn to tell me herself?” He asked, finding himself standing in front of Isabel as she stared up at him in quiet shock. “Or did she just tell you what an idiot I am for doing exactly what she wanted me to do, then not understanding why she suddenly didn’t want anything to do with me?” He scoffed and shook his head. “I’m not in the wrong here; all I ever did was try and do what was best for her, what I thought she wanted and what? What did it get me?” I’m living on the other side of the country from my friends, friends who took her side because she’s the one who went crying to them with her sob story. I just don’t understand how I ended up being the bad guy in all of this.”

Isabel quirked her eyebrow.

“Are you finished?” He glared at her but nodded, sliding into his seat again. “Because all I was going to say is that you’re an idiot for not telling me you broke up with John or that you’d moved to the other side of the country but now I’m seeing there’s a whole story that I’m missing here.”

Max closed his eyes and sank back into the chair, shaking his head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

She slid off the window sill and crouched down in front of him, resting her hands on his knees in an unusually sisterly fashion. Max looked to his sister and smiled.

“Obviously it does if you’re still this worked up about it.” Max scrunched his nose up but didn’t speak. “Did you guys have a fight?”

Max huffed but shook his head, thought about it then shrugged.

“We had sex.” Isabel’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open and Max smirked at the knowledge that he could still do that to her after all this time. “And then she kicked me out.”

“What did you do?”

Max rolled his eyes.

“Why do you assume I did something wrong?”

Isabel raised her eyebrow again.

“Because you’ve never had sex with a girl before and-“

“The sex was fine, trust me.” Isabel nodded and he wondered whether or not to continue. Was this weird? Yeah, because who really wants to talk about sex with their sister? “Michael told her that I got into UCLA.”

Isabel’s mouth formed an ‘O’ shape and Max narrowed his eyes at her.

“She didn’t take it well, I guess?” Max glared at her pointedly. “I told you she wouldn’t”

“Which is why I never told her.” Isabel sighed. “Look, none of this matters anymore; she made it quite clear...”

“What is the big deal anyway?” Isabel asked as she rose from her haunches and made her way back to her perch. “I’ve been telling you to fuck her for years, just to get it out of your system.” Max glared at her again. “Isn’t it better now that you did it?”

Max sighed and shook his head.

“I didn’t just fuck her Isabel.” He dropped his head into his hand and scrubbed his eyes with his knuckles.

“You love her.”

He scoffed.

“Of course I do.”

“You know what I mean.”

Max looked up.

“Yes, I do and I do.”

“Always have?” Max shrugged. Isabel rolled her eyes, suddenly back to way Max was used to her. “Michael was right.”

“What?”

“You are an idiot.” Max glared at her but couldn’t think of anything to say that hadn’t already passed between them. His brain was switched off and he just didn’t even want to think. Not about any of it. “You just need to be a little more selfish.”

Max frowned up at his sister and wondered, not for the first time, how it was that they were actually related.

“What do you mean?”

Isabel shrugged.

“Take what you want.” Max frowned again. “Do you even know what you want?”

Max thought about it. Did he know what he wanted? All of his life, he’d just existed. He took opportunities when they offered themselves to him. The one thing he had ever truly wanted, he had given up for Liz. He had wanted John – but did that really count? He had gone to Boston University because it was convenient for his plan to stay close to Liz, not because he really wanted to. He moved in with John because it was convenient for the rent, not because he wanted to. When was the last time he’d ever really wanted anything? He supposed that taking the job had been doing something he had wanted to do – but if that was true, then why had he been so conflicted about it? If he had wanted it, surely he would have taken it without thought instead of spending weeks agonising over it only to have the decision he made turned on its head by...

He took a sharp breath and closed his eyes.

“There it is,” Isabel said, sounding satisfied and when Max opened his eyes she was smiling down at him.

Was Liz what he really wanted? Had she always been? Everything he had ever done had revolved around her, and what she wanted. When she’d started dating Soren, he’d started dating John. When she’d wanted him to move in, he did. When she asked him for sex, he gave it to her. Not because he wanted to but because she wanted to. What did that mean?

He wanted to make Liz happy.

The thought struck him suddenly and sharply and a part of his mind rejoiced that he had finally caught up with what it had been trying to tell him for many, many years.

But what did it mean?

Was it natural to want to give up everything for one person? Because right now, he would give it all up if she asked him to, without thought.

It was a thought that scared him.

He’d did it once before and he’d survived but could he do it again? Did she deserve him to do it again? Hadn’t he sacrificed enough of himself for her? Didn’t he deserve something in return?

The anger resurfaced then, bitter and cruel and he let out an dark laugh.

He’d given up so much for her, yet when the time came for her to return the favour... she had given up on him, on them. Had given up nothing of herself for him while he had, only days before, given up everything he had wanted – for her – again.

“It’s not a nice thought, wanting to be selfish is it?” Isabel said after an uncountable amount of time and Max shook his head in the negative. His thoughts flashed and swirled like the falling snow outside and he couldn’t calm the driving wind behind them. Isabel’s words had set loose a hurricane and nothing he could do would stop it. “Come on,” Isabel said and took his hand in hers, pulling him to his feet. “Mom wants us to get ready for the service.”

He followed her through the house and when he reached his bedroom he sat on the edge of his bed. He thought for a moment then looked to the phone on the nightstand. He glanced between it and the pictures of him and Liz on the walls and tables and shelves in his old room, contemplating.

He lunged for the phone and dialled the number, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

Days after the more than slightly anti-climactic call to Liz’s voicemail, Max was still thinking about it. He wasn’t sure if he was glad her cell had been off, or annoyed. For the first time in months, he’d been ready to talk to her but the choice had been taken away from him. He’d grumbled and brooded throughout the Christmas service in the park much to his mother’s annoyance but he simply didn’t care. Christmas without Liz just hadn’t been the same.

Because of this moroseness, he found himself huddled together in a small plastic chair in the airport, the day before New Year’s Eve, waiting on a plane to take him back to San Francisco. He’d missed his little apartment and his own space almost as much as he missed the ability to lie in of a morning without hi sister breathing down his neck and demanding they do this and that and then something else.

His cell chirped in his pocket for the second time in ten minutes and he thought to ignore it again but the glare from the woman across from him had him fishing into his pocket and flipping the cell open once he’d recognised Michael’s number.

“Maxwell, how’s it going?” Max made a noise and glared at the woman across him who’d made him answer the phone. All he wanted was five minutes of peace. “That good, huh?” Max made another sound and Michael chuckled. “I’m just seeing when you’ll be home?”

Max sat up straighter at that.

“Why?” He asked and it was only once the word was out of his mouth that he realised it was a little harsher than he’d intended.

“Keep your panties on, dude. I’m going to send out your Christmas present today but you need to be there to sign for it.”

Max sighed at that and relaxed back into his chair. He didn’t know what he’d expected but he was glad it was just a gift.

“What is it?”

Michael sighed roughly and Max bit back the smirk. Michael didn’t like to be questioned and Max knew it. He often used it against his best friend.

“It’s just a painting I did for you that Maria insisted I send out to you because your apartment is no doubt colourless and lacking any sense of style.”

Max snorted at that but didn’t disagree. Tess had tried to get him to change the boring beige on the walls but Max was never in his apartment long enough for him to care about home furnishings. If he could afford it, he’d probably be better off staying in a local hotel like he did when he was travelling. Or maybe a dorm on campus, like he’d been offered, but it had reminded him too much of college in Boston and Liz. There were a few pictures on shelves, a cushion here or there courtesy of Maria and mail order ordering.

Max would be glad of some colour.

“I’m actually at the airport right now. I’ll be home before tomorrow.”

“Cool. I’ll send it off just now then.”

Max nodded although his friend couldn’t see him.

“Did you have a good holiday?” Max asked, deciding to shuck the grumpy exterior. He really did miss his friends, no matter how he tried to deny it. And Michael’s show of friendship just reminded him how much.

“I had a good time. Wasn’t the same without you man but don’t tell Maria.” Max laughed and shook his head. While he’d had a good time, he could agree that it wasn’t the same. He missed Liz’s crazy cooking and the gift exchange hour before dinner. There was a pause and Max knew what was coming. “Liz had... a harder time than the rest of us,” Michael said eventually, quietly as though he was sharing state secret and Max wondered if he’d been warned not to tell Max how much Liz hadn’t enjoyed herself.

Max’s initial reaction was to ignore Michael’s comment, or to brush it aside with a gruff remark but he swallowed it down and fought for the same sentimental guy he’d been on Christmas Eve when he’d tried calling her.

“Yeah,” he said quietly and looked down to his jean clad thighs. “I tried calling her on Christmas Eve but her cell was off.”

Michael was silent for a long moment and Max knew he was probably more than a little surprised by Max’s confession. Max had, after all, sworn never to speak to Liz ever again. Or at least, not make the first move.

“Really?” Max made an affirmative noise and he heard Michael expel a breath. “She’ll be glad to hear that,” Michael said slowly, warily and Max let out his own held breath.

“You can tell her if you want, Michael.”

Max could imagine Michael nodding on the other end of the line.

“She really has been having a hard time with this, man,” Michael said quietly and Max winced. The last thing he had ever wanted to do was hurt Liz. But she’d hurt him, too. “Anyway,” Michael said loudly and jovially and Max shook his shoulders to try and rid them of the weight that had descended on them.

“Yeah,” Max said lightly and looked back up to the screen to see that he’d been called to his gate. “I better go, we’re about to start boarding.”

“Okay. You should have your painting no later than tomorrow evening.”

“DHL?” Max asked and Michael agreed. “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

“You better.”

Max flipped his phone closed and lifted his carry-on bag from the floor at his feet. As he walked to the gate, he couldn’t help but wish he was heading for a different destination.

Part Twenty-Four

Max eyed the painting with a frown. So much for adding a splash of colour to his walls. He looked to the beige canvas of his walls and then back to the black and red... mixture on the huge canvas Michael had sent to him. He growled. It wouldn’t go – and not just in the living room where he wanted to hang it. It wouldn’t go in any of the rooms in his whole God damn apartment without him at least applying a lick of paint to the walls.

He sighed and covered the painting with the protective tarp he’d bought for it, leaned it against the wall and then sulked in front of his window. The gloom had settled in and he found that, ridiculously, he missed the snow. He’d wanted to escape the snow and the festive cheer and here he was, alone on New Year’s Eve wishing more than anything that he was at home with his family or his friends. He hated the holidays. Which was a new development; he used to love the holidays. Very much in fact. Until this year when he was left alone.

His cell rang and he seriously contemplated letting it ring but he thought that might be counterproductive to him not being alone over the holidays. He lunged for it, far too eager and he frowned at Tess’ chirpy greeted once he picked up.

“Beautiful Max,” she said with a slight slur and Max knew then that she had started her own celebrations much earlier in the day. “Beautiful, beautiful Max; I have a beautiful, beautiful man here called Jason.”

Max chuckled at that and looked to the clock. It was nine-thirty; he still had plenty of time to get hammered before the bells struck. If she didn’t invite him, he was inviting himself.

“That’s nice, Tess,” he said instead, the humour still evident in his voice and he marvelled at how quickly his mood had changed since moments before. “Have fun with him.”

Tess giggled and he could hear an indistinguishable male voice in the background: Jason, evidently.

“No, silly. Beautiful Jason wants to meet beautiful Max.” She giggled again and Max thought about it. “He’s heard big things about you.” There wasn’t any harm in it; if the guy wasn’t butt ugly, at least he’d have someone to kiss when the ball dropped at midnight. “I could send him over if you want.” Max could almost imagine her wiggling her eyebrows.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, Max, don’t be such a boooorrrre! Live a little.”

Max chuckled again and stretched his legs out in front of him as he fingered the tarp covering his newest gift.

“Where are you?” He said into the receiver as he watched the tarp slide off the painting. He looked at it. From this angle, if he tilted his head slightly, he could almost make out two bodies...

“R-Kaos! Are you coming? I bet you’ll come tonight, Max.”

“I will come to R-Kaos, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll come in R-Kaos.” He even smirked at that one himself.

“Oh, Max, you’re funny!” She giggled again and Max smiled; Tess had been exactly what he’d needed tonight. Maybe this Jason guy could be good for him tonight as well.

In the corner of the painting, he saw words scratched into it that he’d missed before. He tilted his head again, reading them. What? That didn’t make...

Xamzil.

He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Nikola will come and pick you up she says – be ready in half an hour!”

When Max hung up from Tess, he opened a new message to Michael, rolling his eyes as he did so.

Subtle.

He looked back to the collision of black and red and let his eyes savour it. It was quite passionate, definitely intimate despite the stark contrast of the colours. It fit him and Liz perfectly. He wanted to hate Michael for that but found that he couldn’t. His phone vibrated in his hand, Michael’s reply coming quickly:

I thought you’d like it. Happy New Year.

Max smiled and replied with the same sentiments before flipping his phone closed and whipping off his shirt.

In the shower he thought about the painting Michael had sent him; Xamzil. They had been a collision once. He thought back to that night, to the only night he had ever been inside a woman – inside Liz – and he wondered if they had looked anything like the entanglement of limbs and hair and kisses and touches that he’d conjured in his mind. His cock twitched in his hand and as he imagined Liz riding him, her nipple in his mouth while his cock impaled her over and over he came hard and fast, his cum dripping down the walls with the shower water.

He sighed. At least he’d have his memories.

In his bedroom, he tugged on a pair of dark wash, fitted jeans and rifled through his wardrobe for a top as he dragged a towel through his hair, sending droplets of water down his neck and back and chest. The doorbell rang and he called out for her to wait two minutes and when he stood, his unbuttoned jeans slid down his hips slightly. Rubbing the towel through his hair while hiking his jeans up, Max had a hard time manoeuvring the latch to open the door.

When he did, the towel dropped from his hand and he stared at the person who was most definitely not Nikola. In one hand she held a pot of Dulux brilliant white paint and in the other, a paint brush.

“Michael told me you might need to redecorate before you put your painting up.”

She said it so casually and with a shrug that Max almost forgot he hadn’t seen her in close to six months. His breath caught in his throat when he took in her nose that was red from the cold, her big wool jacket that he’d bought her a year ago for Christmas. He watched as her eyes dipped from his down to his chest and then back up when her cheeks flushed.

He couldn’t think of anything to say, so he settled for the only thing he knew right for certain right then.

“Liz.”

“Jesus, Liz, what have you got in here?” Max grumbled as he hefted the last – and, of course, the heaviest – box up the three flights of stairs to their shared, just-off-campus apartment. He dropped it onto the floor beside the other (mostly Liz’s) boxes and flopped onto the new (still plastic wrapped) sofa and groaned. “I am never moving again.” Liz dropped down beside him and he turned his head to look at her, grinning at the sight of her flushed cheeks and sweat stained t-shirt. “Good look, sweetheart.”

Liz scowled and reached over him, rubbing her armpit on his bicep and Max squawked, scrabbling away from her. She followed and in his haste, he ended up on the floor, knocking over a couple of the boxes. He laughed as Liz lunged over the top of him, scrabbling with whatever he’d knocked free. His curiosity got the better of him and he peaked over her shoulder as she grabbed at the items on the floor.

Max stilled. His throat seemed to close in on him and he felt a stirring in his groin that he’d not felt in the presence of a woman... possibly ever.

“Don’t. It was Maria. She bought me it for my birthday and-“

“No,” Max said, holding his hands up suddenly unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. He eyed the bright pink vibrator (clearly not in its packaging) and looked back to Liz with a smirk. “I like it. Maybe I’ll borrow it sometime.”

Liz’s face paled, became expressionless before she started gagging. Max snorted and swatted her thighs and she made a sound half way between a screech and a giggle.

“I’ll make sure to buy you one for your birthday. Is this colour okay?” She asked innocently and Max lifted it from her hands, weighing it in his palm and turning it around from end to end trying to imagine how something that big could fit inside of her... That line of thought did nothing for the tingling in his groin and he was forced to suppress a groan at the thought of Liz- “Max?”

He looked up at her and licked his lips, watching as her throat moved as she swallowed. He looked up to her eyes and they seemed darker. He shuddered – not all together unpleasantly – and looked back to the pleasure device in his hand.

He quirked a smile.

“Just make sure it’s not purple or blue.”

Liz matched his smirk and Max took great care when placing her plastic (rubber? He wasn’t sure) cock-replacement back into the box it had escaped from. In Max’s book, that thing was just asking to be played with.

There was a knock on the door and Liz whirled around as her parents – followed by Max’s – trudged into the living room, calling out to them as they went. They made noises of acknowledgement and their parents appeared in the doorway between the hallway and the lounge, looking around at the mess. His mother’s eyebrows flitted closer together and Max was suddenly thankful that Isabel was in Germany.

“Wouldn’t it have made much more sense to drop the boxes in the appropriate room?” She said as she eyed the boxes labelled “bathroom” that were behind the sofa. Max and Liz shrugged and Nancy Parker laughed, leaning down to lift a box into the kitchen. “This place will be a disaster area if you two don’t look after it properly.”

“Mom,” Max moaned but she just smiled and moved away. “If you want to help, just move boxes – we’ll unpack the rest later.”

“Okay,” she agreed and moved to the box Liz had stuffed the remaining errant escapees into.

“No!” Liz exclaimed and Max choked on his laughter as Liz lunged herself at the box, covering the top of it with her chest. He snorted at his mother’s puzzled face and couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped at the sight of Liz’s pink face. “I’ll get this one, thanks,” she said hastily and stood, grabbing the box tightly to her chest.

Max laughed out loud as her mother smiled knowingly at the girl’s retreating back.

--

“That was horrific,” Liz said three days later. “I am never moving again.”

Max dropped to the floor in front of the sofa and shouldered his way in between her legs.

“She sees the light,” he murmured as her fingers dove into his hair. He almost purred at the sensation of her fingers in his hair. “Have you unpacked your videos?” Liz grunted in response, her nails grazing his scalp and this time he did purr. “All alphabetised and chronological?” Her fingers tightened around his hair and she pulled and his purr turned into a quiet moan as the sensations shot straight to his waking cock.

“Why?”

“I’m in the mood for Ewan McGregor and Robert Carlisle.”

“Ugh,” Liz moaned and leaned over so Max could feel her breath on his neck. Goosebumps appeared on his arms and he shifted his hips slightly. “I am not watching Trainspotting again.” Max sighed. “What about Gladiator?”

“Too weepy.”

“X-Men?”

“Ohhh, Hugh Jackman.”

“You get it.”

“And mess up your system? I wouldn’t dare.”

Liz sighed and pushed him away from her. “When I get back, you’re giving me a shoulder rub.”

He turned to look up at her and grinned.

“So long as you rub something of mine later.” She pierced him with a stare and Max chuckled. “Or I can do it myself.”

“Rule number one: clean your own sheets.”

When she left Max stood and went into the kitchen in search of munchies. The cupboards, while bare of actual food, had plenty of junk and he rifled through the assortment of chips and dips, marshmallows and jelly sweets and pulled out a couple of bags of each. He tossed them to the sofa from the doorway and turned to the fridge and took out two glass bottles of coke, capping them on the edge of the counter. He rubbed the small divot he’d made and hoped Liz didn’t notice.

When she came back, she was a lot less dressed than before; her jeans and tee shirt were gone and were replaced by a short pair of shorts and a thin vest that allowed Max to see the outline of her nipples. When she leaned down to put the DVD into the new player, Max tilted his head and watched her butt as it moved in the shorts. When his groin stirred again, he caught himself and looked away, opting to fiddle with the tassle on the cushion he was leaning against instead.

“Budge up,” Liz demanded as she stood in front of the sofa and Max looked up to her for one uncomprehending moment then smiled slightly, shifting his body so he was laying on the sofa, his back against the back and Liz settled against his front.

Before the movie even started, Max’s hand had found its way from her hip to her stomach, where it remained for half the movie. From there, it slid down to her thigh, his thumb drawing small, lazy circles where the fabric stopped and skin started.

By the end of the movie, if Liz was as sexually frustrated as he was, she didn’t say.

Part Twenty Six

Liz sighed and Maria glanced over to her before looking back at Michael. Christmas this year had been hard for Liz; it was the first Christmas for what felt like forever that she hadn’t spent with Max. She hadn’t even called him to wish him a Merry Christmas and she hated it. He hadn’t responded to the Christmas card she had sent him and Michael had informed her that he hadn’t seen the funny side of it.

Clearly the message had been a little too subtle for his dense as rock brain to understand.

Boxing day had come and gone in a blur of hung over dish-cleaning and gift-putting-away and a studious attempt to avoid the skinny jeans she had been going to wear to the party Michael and Maria were throwing later in the week. She did not want to think of how much food she had tried to drown herself in on Christmas day.

Her cell chirped on her bed and she reached over to it, flipping it round the right way and she stared at the screen for a second before grinning slightly. She hadn’t heard from John since before Max had left and as soon as she saw his name she felt a small tug that her let know she’d missed him more than she cared to think about. Instead of replying with a text, Liz lifted the cell to her ear and waited for him to answer.

“Well hello downtown,” John said cheerfully in lieu of an actual greeting and Liz giggled slightly. “Happy belated Christmas, Elizabeth,” he said and Liz wondered just how much he’d had to drink.

“Happy belated Christmas to you too, John,” she replied lightly and lowered herself until she was perched on the edge of her bed. She leant forward onto her elbows and tilted her head, letting her tired eyes drift closed.

“I was wondering if I could pull a Max and come sleep at your place?” Liz straightened slightly both at Max’s name being said and John’s question. John never asked to stay at hers. Ever.

“Of course,” she replied instead of questioning and the line suddenly went dead. She pulled her cell away and glanced at it as someone knocked on her front door. “Ah,” she said with a small smile and she stood, moving towards the door. When she swung it open, John leant forward, gripped her head between his hands and pushed his lips against hers. She didn’t respond, too shocked really, and John pulled back almost instantly, gazing down at her with a confused expression on his face. “What?” Liz asked and lifted her eyebrow as John sighed.

“I was just wondering if I was missing something.” Liz’s eyebrows raised of their own accord as John sidled passed her and into her hallway. She shut the door and turned to him, one hand on her hip. “No offence, Lizzy, but I don’t know see what the draw is.”

Liz took it as a challenge.

“Well if you had given me the chance to respond instead of just molesting my lips for a second or two you might have some basis to that theory, sir,” she said acidly and she hoped John knew her tone was not entirely serious. She would admit that she was a little irked by his dismissal of her kissing abilities. But she also thought it was extremely amusing that John had kissed her.

“If I kiss you, will you kiss me back?” Liz thought for a second then nodded. “Okay...”

John stepped up to her again and Liz tilted her head up to look at him. He sighed again and Liz lifted herself up onto her tiptoes. John met her halfway and touched his lips to hers. He was hesitant and slow so Liz wrapped her hand around his neck and tugged him closer to her. He deepened the kiss with his tongue, brushing it against Liz’s and while it wasn’t a bad kiss, it wasn’t exactly... anything else, either.

They pulled back and Liz raised her eyebrow in question as John ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I will admit that you are a good kisser,” John conceded and Liz smirked while wondering if it was possible that she was still a little drunk. “But it doesn’t really do it for me.” Liz snorted.

“What’s all this in aid of?”

John shrugged.

“Just wanted to see what all of the fuss was about.”

Liz frowned again and motioned for John to precede her into the lounge. Once they were seated John turned to her and watched her closely.

“I ran into Kyle. He told me Max left. And what he knew of why.”

Liz gasped slightly and looked away from John’s eyes.

“You didn’t know he’d left?” She asked eventually, stupidly. John shook his head. “He’s an idiot.”

John laughed and nodded.

“Yes, he is.” Liz smiled up at him. “But so are you.” Liz glared at him. “Liz, that man has been in love with you for longer than I care to imagine. Definitely for as long as I’ve known him; probably even longer.”

Liz snorted. She’d heard this before, from Maria and Michael but she refused to believe it. If Max truly was in love with her, something would have happened while they lived together at college. He wouldn’t have dated John. He wouldn’t be gay.

But then the other side of Liz’s brain kicked in and told her that she had dated Soren while she’d been in love with Max, that she’d managed to live with him and not jump him, despite his quite blatant open invitations to help ease some tension he felt from class.

“Yeah, right.”

John shrugged his shoulders.

“And it’s because you can’t see that that you’re an idiot.” He pursed his lips and reached out to the end of Liz’s hair. “You need a hair cut,” he said, changing the subject so abruptly that Liz couldn’t hold back the incredulous burst of laughter that tried to escape. “What?” John said innocently, his eyes glistening with mirth. “You do.”

“I’ll drop by,” Liz said to acquiesce him and John nodded.

“Before you go see Max in SF?”

Liz snorted again.

“I’m not going to see Max, in San Francisco or anywhere else.”

John shrugged.

“If you say so.” Liz eyed him with a glare but he simply shrugged his shoulders. “Do I get to share your bed, too?”

Liz rolled her eyes but motioned for him to follow her anyway.

--

“Max called you, did you know that?” Michael said to her as she let herself into his and Maria’s apartment. Liz stopped, her back still to him with her hand pressed to the door and felt her shoulders tense. “On Christmas day.” Liz’s throat made a strange squeaking noise and she closed her eyes against it. “Your cell was off.”

She let out a small breath at that, feeling tears prickle at the back of her eyes. She’d kept her phone off all day so that she wouldn’t be disappointed when he didn’t call. She should have known her genius plan would backfire.

“Why didn’t he leave a message?” She asked quietly, unable to turn to Michael.

“I don’t know,” he said eventually, just as quietly as she had spoken and it forced Liz to turn to him.

“I miss him, Michael,” she said brokenly and Michael shifted on the spot.

“He misses you, too.”

“Then why won’t he come home?”

Michael’s stare hardened for a moment and Liz flinched under his stare, knowing that she’d managed to set him off again.

“Maybe it’s not his turn.”

Liz eyed him for a moment, looking for the meaning to his words. When he quirked his eyebrow in her direction, she knew what she had to do.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

--

She’d gotten his address from Michael and paid ridiculous sums of money for her plane ticket. She’d been wished happy new year by random people on the street more times than she could count and she had long since lost feeling in her hand that held the four litre tub of paint.

It would all be worth it, she reminded herself as she walked down a chilly, wind-tunnel of a street towards what was hopefully the correct building. She’d tried hailing a cab but the streets were dormant and she’d been forced to walk. It could have been worse; it could have been Boston temperatures and there could have been ice.

She checked the address on her phone against the building in front of her and she felt her heart rate double then triple until it beat a relentless staccato against her rib cage. She could do this. Of course she could do this. It was just Max.

It was Max.

Oh God, she couldn’t do this. How could she do this? Did she really expect him to be okay with her just showing up on his doorstep? He obviously didn’t want to see her. He hadn’t even given her his phone number.

“You’re here now,” she argued aloud. “Don’t let that thousand dollar flight go to waste.”

She climbed the stairs, stopping only at the front of the door to his apartment. She could hear him moving about, the sounds incredibly muffled through the door but she could hear him nonetheless. She closed her eyes.

“You can do this.”

She knocked, and stood her ground even as her heart slammed about in her chest, trying to break free. Even as her legs threatened to cave in beneath her. She shifted the paint from one hand to the other, her arms vibrating. His muffled sounds grew louder and he called out and Liz almost lost it right there and then. Her breath caught as she heard the door unlock and she froze, her body a solid sculpture in the hallway when the door opened and he was half naked and oh my god she wanted to touch him, anywhere. Somewhere.

She said something ridiculous, the words sounding more confident than she felt.

He stared at her blankly, his eyes moving across her for a second with no recognition in them and for a moment Liz felt ice spread through her veins until the fire that erupted in his eyes burned the little crystals away.

“Liz...”

She pulled her lips between her teeth and ducked her head, closing her eyes for a moment before she met his eyes again. They were dark. His chest was bare.

Was he alone?

“Max...” She breathed out and waited. He seemed to be waiting, too. For her to disappear, perhaps? For her to leave? To come in? God, she’d never been so confused or terrified or...

“What are you doing here?”

She looked down again and bit back the pain that erupted in her chest at his cool tone. She took a breath, then another and battled back the tear.

“I miss you,” she said quietly, unevenly and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek.

She dropped the tub of paint with a loud thud when she felt Max’s arms wrap around her and she let out the sob that had been threatening, flinging her body into his and wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. She sobbed into his neck, breathing in his scent as his lips grazed the skin at her neck.

“I’ve missed you, too...”

He pulled her tighter against him and Liz pulled herself up against him.

She was home.

Part Twent-Seven

She missed him? After all this time, that’s all she has to say to him? It’s ridiculous and so incredibly not enough that it’s not even funny but he can’t help but hold her to him tighter. And she was crying – oh God, she was crying and if that sound didn’t do awful, awful things to him then he didn’t know what would. He pulled her into his apartment with a mental note to go back and pick up the discarded paint tub and pushed the door closed with his foot. Liz didn’t let go of him and he really, really didn’t want to let go of her either.

They stood there for uncountable minutes, Liz weeping into his chest and him jut holding her tighter. She was in San Francisco. Liz was in San Francisco – she had come for him. Hadn’t this been what Isabel had told him had to happen? That Liz had to come to him now because he’d already given up so much for her?

He pulled back slightly and looked down at her, urging her face away from his body with his chin and his fingers and when she looked up at him, eyes red-rimmed and tearful he smiled. He smiled at her and brushed his fingers down her cheeks, to her lips and back across her cheeks until his fingers found themselves nestled in the hair at the base of her skull and his fingers urged her face closer to hers. He moved slowly, giving her ample opportunity to pull away but when Liz’s eyes fluttered shut, he lashes coming to rest on her tear streaked cheeks, he leaned in the rest of the way and brushed his lips across hers. Once, twice, gently and she breathed across the gap between them, washing him in her scent and her hands around his waist moved up to his neck, urging him closer.

When she touched her tongue to his he lost it. She was against the door in seconds, all loud moans and quiet gasps, her cold hands warming against the scorching skin of his back, his waist and he was lost to her as she tugged on the ends of his hair and he moaned and they were all wild and abandoned and her leg was hitched up against his hip and his hands were urging the coat from her shoulders while his mouth plundered hers furiously.

Then the sound of someone banging on his door broke through the fog and Max remembered that he was supposed to be going out. That he was supposed to be hooking up with a guy named Jason and that Nikki was on the other side of the door waiting to take him out to a party.

He pulled back then, quickly, and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t look at Liz – couldn’t, really -because he was afraid he would devour her again and he needed some space to gain some perspective. How could she have this effect on him? After everything, the first thing he does is push her against the wall and give into the temptations of her body? Even to him, in his sex-deprivation-fogged brain, that’s just not cool.

Liz pushed off the wall and righted herself, while Nikki continued to pound on the door, laughing and shouting and Max glanced to Liz to gage her reaction. She simply bit her lip and half hid behind him when he reached for the handle of the door and pulled the door open both thankful and disgruntled by the sight of the woman on the other side.

“Holy shit, Maxwell, was Michael’s painting that bad that you decided to paint over it?”

“Shut up,” he grumbled as he stepped aside, reaching out to take the tub of paint from Nikki as she stepped into the apartment.

“Tess will be pissed that you’re not ready ye... Well, hello there little lady,” Nikki said, eventually noticing Liz and Max winced slightly as Nikki looked over Liz and his’ obviously... ruffled appearance. “Hm,” Nikki grunted quietly and looked to Max with an amused expression on her face. “I think Jason is the one who is going to be disappointed tonight,” she said cheekily and Max heard Liz’s quiet hiss and when he turned to her, she was frowning and a blush was covering her cheeks.

Max guessed she thought... well, he didn’t want to guess but neither did he want to put her out of her misery quite yet. He had a life in San Francisco – new friends and... more that she didn’t know about. He couldn’t exactly blame her for the kiss because he had initiated it but... He felt the anger return at the thought that she expected him to just give up his life for her. How did she know he would be home? It was New Years Eve, after all. He should be at a party. If she had been ten minutes later, he would have been out. What then?

“This is Liz,” he said to Nikki and watched as Liz smiled but didn’t hold out her hand.

Nikki’s eyes met his and her eyebrow quirked slightly and her assessing eyes wandered back to Liz.

“I can see why you’d go celibate for her,” Nikki said with a nod of her head and Max knew his blush rivalled Liz’s at the comment.

“Shut up.”

“That’s twice Max. You know I don’t take kindly to being told to shut up.”

“Maybe if you thought before you spoke you wouldn’t be told to shut up as much.”

“Everything I say is well thought out. It’s not my fault you can’t see the thought processes behind my speeches.”

“Speeches?”

“And dear Elizabeth Parker, you are one fine specimen of the female form. I’d like to photograph you but from the feral look on Max’s face at my comment, I guess he’s not one who likes to share.”

“Nikki is a porn photographer.”

“I am not. I take pictures of woman’s beauty. I can’t help that us of the fairer sex look better in little to no clothing.”

“She’s a porn photographer,” Max stated smugly and quirked a challenging eyebrow at Nikki again. “But I would take it as a compliment, Liz. She’s very picky about her models.”

There was an odd silence and Max realised he hadn’t looked at Liz since Nikki had stepped into his apartment. He was in no rush to remedy that fact.

“Thanks,” Liz said quietly from behind Max and he tilted his head in her direction. Her quiet tone shot straight to his heart and he winced slightly but fought the urge to reach out to her. Despite everything, he still considered her one of his best friends, at least. “I... didn’t think this through very well, did I? I’m sorry, I didn’t... you have plans,” she said in a rush and Max felt her moving behind him. “I’ll just...” She moved by him and to the door and she was halfway out before Nikki reached out and grabbed onto her arm.

“He doesn’t have plans. Not with us, anyway.”

Liz looked over to Max and he met her eye for a moment before looking away.

“He does. I’ll see you later.”

“Where are you staying, Liz?” He asked loudly and she stopped in the hallway, turning her head slightly and looked at him without meeting his eye.

“I’ll find somewhere.”

Max rolled his eyes and shook his head. She really hadn’t thought this through and that was so not Liz. She normally had a plan to make a plan and the fact that she was here, without a plan, without a clue was a big fucking deal. And he what? He was just going to let her walk out of his apartment?

Hell the fuck no.

“Get in here you idiot.”

Liz snorted and shook her head but he could tell from the shaking in her shoulders that she was laughing. He’d never been more grateful.

“I’ll... tell Tess you changed your mind.” She gave Max a significant look which he returned. Tess would not be happy with Liz’s appearance in San Francisco.

When Nikki was gone – after a few more lewd comments towards Liz – Max was left with a bemused smile on his face as he watched Liz tilt her head as she watched Nikki walk away.

“You wouldn’t guess that she’s a roman road, right?”

Liz snorted lightly and shook her head.

“Definitely not.” She turned to him, an evanescent smile on her lips that Max couldn’t help but return. He reached out and brushed his thumb down her forearm, watching his digit’s progress with rapt attention. When his thumb reached he fingers, she wrapped his hands within her slender grip. “I have a lot to say and I have no idea where to start.”

Max looked up then, into her eyes. He studied the brown pools for a long moment before nodding, withdrawing his hand to run it through his hair.

“How about with a seat?” Liz nodded and followed him into the lounge. When she took a seat in the armchair, her knees drawn up to her chest, her jacket strewn across the back, Max knew he was in for a long night. “So...”

“So...”

A long night indeed.

A/N: I have two important things to say here. First is an apology for the long wait. I have written, re-written, deleted, moved and re-re-re-written this chapter so many times. It had to be just right and I still don’t know that it is but I just can’t see how I can change it any more.
Secondly, this is the last part of this story. It has been quite a journey and I am glad you all stuck with me for the duration. The decision to end it here was not a decision lightly made, so don’t think I just couldn’t be bothered any more! I love this story... Part of the decision to end it here, without an epilogue is because a) this part of the story is told and b) I’m going to be writing a sequel. The sequel will be either five or ten parts, deciding how I want to write it and will be posted in the AUW/O aliens thread. I don’t have a title for it yet but I will post a note here (if this fic is still here :s) when the time comes but keep an eye out just in case!

Again, I thank you for coming on this journey with me... I hope you like this part
The silence had dragged on for...well, for far too long in Max’s opinion yet he was reluctant to be the first to break it. He was always the one to give; besides, she was the one who travelled across the country to him. Surely she had something to say. He shifted in the seat again and looked to the clock on the wall; it was slowly getting closer and closer to the New Year. He hoped this issue would resolve itself before then.

He wasn’t sure what he felt... He was glad that she was there with him but her sudden appearance and subsequent silence was irritating him beyond measure. As was her shuffling because it made him want to reach out and touch her, to still her constant motion and bring her some sort of ease. It was what he would normally have done.

But these were not normal circumstances and it was taking all of his will power to curb his natural instincts.

“I have so many questions...” Liz said finally and Max snorted, shaking his head slightly.

“You’re not the only one,” he said derisively and Liz lifted an un-amused eyebrow in his direction. He shrugged, unrepentant. “I’ll answer your questions.”

His last statement was redundant: of course he would answer her questions. In his isolation in San Francisco, Max had come to learn that he was really quite pathetic when it came to Liz. Pathetically hopeless and as much as he hated it right not, he wouldn’t change it.

“Why didn’t you go to UCLA?”

Max stilled, his eyes falling from her face to his hands.

“I didn’t get in.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Max snapped his head up to look at her. “You told me you didn’t get in but you did. Why didn’t you go? More importantly, why did you lie about it? Was I the only person who didn’t know?”

Max looked back up to her and he felt his heart rate increase as he watched her fidgeting lessen and her eyes fix on him. His decision not to go to UCLA hadn’t seemed like that big of a deal at the time. He had wanted to go with Liz and she had gone to Boston. BU wasn’t a bad choice; it was only his second because he hadn’t wanted to give up to Roswell temperatures and UCLA offered him just the appropriate climate. And, if he was honest, when he had applied, a part of him hoped Liz wouldn’t come with him – he had wanted to go it alone, to do the whole independent thing. He’d just only really discovered his sexuality and he thought he owed it to himself to find himself out there.

But when it became obvious that he would be in California without Liz... He had come to realise just how integral to his life she had become. The thought of her being on the other side of the country from him, only to be seen (maybe) at Christmas and Thanksgiving and possibly spring break... It hadn’t been worth thinking about. He felt hollow at the thought, let alone actually doing it.

So when he got his acceptance to UCLA it had been simultaneously the best and worst experience of his life. He had simply tucked it away in a drawer in his room and, three days later, had sent his letter thanking them but turning down their offer of a full scholarship. There hadn’t really been a competition, especially when Liz had told him she wanted him to come to Boston.

“Michael knew and I’m guessing it was him that told you. My parents didn’t even know. My dad was so mad with UCLA when I told them I didn’t get in – he couldn’t understand it... He threatened to write to them and demand a reassessment,” he chuckled slightly at the memory but he glanced at Liz’s unamused face and knew she didn’t appreciate his candour. “I knew that if I told you, you would make me go and... I didn’t want to be that far from you.”

“But Max... that was what you wanted to do. Getting into UCLA meant everything to you. UCLA was what Harvard was to me.” Max shrugged and looked away from her again. All of this was such a long time ago. He hated that it was impacting them now. “I... I wouldn’t have done the same. The thought of turning down Harvard never even crossed my mind.” Max knew that and it stung as much now as it did then but he didn’t say anything. “I didn’t even apply to UCLA.”

“You knew what you wanted, Liz.”

“So did you!” Liz guffawed and Max looked up, meeting her eyes.

“I wanted to be with you.” Liz paled slightly and sank into her chair a little. He bit the inside of his lip and met her eyes again. “What I mean is... at the time, all I knew was that I couldn’t stand the thought of being that far from you. You were my best friend... I couldn’t lose you to the east coast. You know how those things happen – you stay in contact for a few months, then the emails get shorter and time between them grows. Then you stop seeing each other at Christmas and... I didn’t want that for us, Liz...”

“That wouldn’t-“

“You know it would have. It would have been inevitable.”

Silence surrounded them again and it was Max’s turn to fidget. Admitting those things out loud made it sound so much more... ridiculously pathetic. It was ridiculously pathetic but he would still go back and do it all over again if he could. He didn’t regret the choice at the time and he certainly didn’t and wouldn’t now.

“You were going to do the same again weren’t you?” Liz said eventually and Max frowned at her, not entirely sure what she was asking. “You weren’t going to come here, were you?” Max waited a second before he shook his head. Liz closed her eyes and Max watched as a silver tear dripped down her cheek. She didn’t move to wipe it away. “I was never mad at you, Max.”

Max frowned. He was pretty sure she was mad when she threw his out of her house and told him not to come back. That what had happened between them shouldn’t have happened and that it would definitely never happen again. It had crushed him, a lot more than it should have. She hadn’t even asked him his opinion; she hadn’t even given him the opportunity...

“Liz...”

“You’re my best friend, Max. Michael told me that... that it was my fault you gave up everything you ever wanted and I... I couldn’t let you do that again. Not for me. I’m not worth it.”

Max was in front of her in a move so fast even his mind hadn’t processed it. His hands were on her knees as she wept into her upturned palms.

“Liz... Isn’t it enough that I thought you were worth it?” She only sobbed harder and Max didn’t know what to do. So he kept rubbing her arms, her shoulders. “You’re my best friend, Liz... I hate that what happened changed things but... after everything, you’re still... it’s still you.”

Liz wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him between her legs, crushing them together. He didn’t complain; instead, he took a breath and his nose was filled with the scent of Liz and his cock began stirring again despite his efforts to quell its inappropriate reappearance.

“I don’t deserve you... I’m a crappy friend.”

Max ducked his head further into her hair and nosed some of the strands out of the way, tracing his nose along the skin beneath her ear. He felt her shiver in his arms and his cock liked that entirely too much.

“You’re not a crappy friend... It’s not your fault that I’m just better at it than you.”

She chuckled slightly at that and drew back, smacking his shoulders lightly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered and traced her fingers over his features and it was his turn to shiver at her gentle touch. How could he not have noticed how her touch ignited his skin for all those years? It explained so much... “I was so angry, Max... I’m so sorry for the... for the way I didn’t handle it...” She took a breath and Max was too distracted by the rise and fall of her bosom, right in front of his face, to say anything in response. “I had so many more questions but I can’t remember what they were,” she admitted as she played with the hairs at the back of his head.

“Me neither,” he murmured as he leaned forward and nuzzled her hair again, shuddering as her fingers slid through his hair again. He twitched.

“That night, Max...” he began and Max knew exactly which night she was referring to. “Do you regret it?”

He drew back from her then and settled in on his knees, watching her feature as she watched his. Eventually, he shook his head. He could never regret that night – and he told her so.

“I hate everything that happened after it but that night... being inside of you, Liz...” he closed his eyes as his body remembered the sensation; of her warmth surrounding him, of her voice murmuring his name...

When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling softly down to him, her eyes glistening again and she nodded when he met her eyes.

“I know what you mean.”

He wrapped his arms around her again and they stayed like that for a long time. Max continued to breathe in her scent, rememorizing it and she sniffled every so often but, like so many other moments between them, it was right.

He didn’t know where this left them, at all. Because, although they had sort of talked about stuff, he wasn’t sure anything had really been resolved. Sure, some of it was... she had apologised to him for flaking out but... He was still on the other side of the country from her and...

“I’m not coming back to Boston, Liz,” he said, feeling like an ass for breaking the silence with such a negative sentiment but he was surprised when she snorted out a soft laugh. He pulled back and looked at her, realising only then how uncomfortably he had been.

“I know you’re not. I don’t expect you to.” She trailed her fingers over his jaw. “You’ve given up enough for me.”

“Liz-“

“We’ll figure something out, Max.” She sighed and leaned her forehead against hers. “You’re my best friend... whatever else happened, that’s the truth.”

He nodded against her and he watched in amusement as she fought back a yawn. Slowly, he drew back from her and stood, holding his hand out to her. She took it, her fingertips trailing across his palm causing the skin to flare under her gentle caress.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said to her and drew her up, smirking when her eyes widened as she pressed against the hardness in his jeans. “To sleep, Liz. You must be exhausted.”

She nodded as she followed his down the corridor – he spared a glance to the door that he had pushed her up against – and led her to his bedroom. Once inside, he handed her a pair of sweats and a tee shirt, slipping into his bathroom to give her privacy to change. In there, he stripped and splashed water on his face, hissing as some of the cool liquid landed on his overheated chest. He looked down to his protruding erection and frowned at it, deciding to leave it in hopes it would disappear on its own. He doubted it but he could dream.

He pulled on the sweats he’d collected for himself and wiped the few droplets of liquid from his chest before heading back into his bedroom. Liz was changed and sitting hesitantly on the edge of his bed. He smiled as he approached her, running his fingers through her hair and down across her cheek. She smiled up to him as he urged her to lie back on the bed, fixing the covers around her as she moved. Once she was settled, he moved around the bed and got in at the other side. They wasted no time in migrating to one another and Max sighed as he nosed the hair away from her shoulder so he could rest his head there. Her hand covered his on her stomach and he tightened his grip on her slightly.

He glanced to the bedside clock and smiled slightly.

“Happy New Year, Liz,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck.

She drew her fingers along the back of his forearm and lifted his hand so she could kiss his palm.

“Happy New Year, Max.”

Liz was asleep within minute. Max lay awake beside her for a long time, just listening to the sounds of her breathing and thinking over their long history. He thought of the times they shared in school, then again living together at college. He thought of living with her again in her small apartment in Boston and now it felt to have her in his arms now.

And it was then, at the precipice of waking and sleep, that Max realised he was – and had always been – in love with Liz Parker.

The End.