Two Dark Angel fics
Title: I’m Getting Married Later On This Morning.
Rating: PG.
Genre: Foof.
Pairing: Max/Alec (Alec, Joshua, Normal friendship.)
Summary: On the morning of Alec’s nuptials there was some panic and confusion...
Read it at Geocities
Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me and I make no profit from them.
Author's Notes: Thanks to FridayAngel for betaing this, all idiocies are mine. There are two small spoilers for After the Dark.
A few months ago, at 4.40am I was plagued by hiccups and the foofbunny.
I’m Getting Married Later On This Morning: shallowness
Alec woke up with a start, his eyes opening wide to take in the horror ahead of him. His room looked the same as always (if he didn’t look at where his suit hung) but the very air he was breathing was different. Right, he was still breathing. That was good, even if nothing else were.
He pulled back the covers and emptied the bed in a move you would call graceful if you were unfamiliar with the X5-series. This morning he bolted through the bedroom doorway, to the apartment’s living area, hoping that when he walked in, there’d be proof enough that it was all a dream.
But Joshua - all six foot nearly seven - stood waiting for him, beaming. Alec groaned and seriously considered turning back for his bed, but Josh was greeting him ("Morning, Alec") with a curious mix of enthusiasm and wariness. Instead of realizing that his friend had seen and understood his not so positive reaction, the shorter man berated him with "Why didn’t we have my stag party last night? That way all I’d have to concentrate on was a hangover."
"Max said no, remember?"
Alec’s lips became a set line. She’d been very explicit about breaking all his fingers and toes if he didn’t have over twenty-four hours between the stag night and what lay ahead.
Although he’d paid lip-service to the usual revved up metabolism argument, he hadn’t minded complying - over twenty-four hours ago.
"Guevara even had a back up plan," came Normal’s admiring voice from the couch. "Marched into her former place of employment yesterday with copies of pictures of your handsome mug, and ordered we take them to the bouncers of every bar, burlesque club or strip joint in this sector. Very thorough. Never knew she had it in her to be that motivated"
"She what? They what?" Alec spluttered as his house-guest put on his glasses and sat up. What bars have doormen anyway? Wait, wait, she went to those bars? "There’s fighting dirty and then there’s… Doesn’t she trust me?"
"No," Joshua shook his shaggy head mournfully. Alec looked at a fellow recipient of the "all the bones in your body" speech and commiserated. Until the memory of his fate returned to crush him.
"So, what you gonna rustle up for breakfast, boys?" demanded the becouched Normal, far, far too cheerfully. Alec - aghast - wondered if he had any control left of his life whatsoever.
He considered flight briefly, but assumed his beloved had chained up both of his bikes and informed the traffic division of Seattle P.D. to watch out for him.
Maybe he could barricade himself in the apartment.
"Let’s make it a hearty meal! Fighter like you needs his strength," Normal said, stretching up to his feet, Alec watched him from the sides of his eyes.
Asking Joshua, his brother in arms, to be his best man had been natural, but how had Normal become an usher again? Then Alec remembered the "discussion" with Max:
"He’s more responsible than Sketchy."
End of "discussion."
Really, Alec hadn’t thought the initial suggestion through. It was just Sketchy had been pleading to take part in the shackling on of the proverbial ball and chain, and Alec was back at Crash and feeling sentimental. Sober and reasonable, Alec could see the force of her argument. The upholder of truth, fourth estate style, was quite likely to take the opportunity to ask some of Alec’s fellow council members about their wilder nights. And whatever Sketchy did, Max would put the blame on him. Normal could be depended upon to be safely obsequious, all you wanted from an usher. The Sketchster had been assigned to take the pictures.
"Alec? Chow now?"
The groom-to-be groaned at the interruption to his flashbacks and walked towards the kitchen, his best man shadowing him faithfully. Maybe a little hungrily, too.
"Never marry a soldier, Josh," he was solemnly told. "She can’t but plan it like a military campaign."
Joshua bark-laughed as enthusiastically as someone who’s heard the same comment repeatedly and moreover has a big and empty stomach can. He was rewarded; Alec was rummaging for coffee and --
"Where’s the whiskey?" He turned to glare at the friend to whom he’d been so kindly dispensing such good advice. "The scotch?
"Josh-u-a, why can I not have some Irish coffee on this morning, of all mornings?"
There was cowering in the kitchen and a strategic encampment at the couch. Both behaviors goaded Alec O’Reilly Murphy Kerry Guinness Clancy Sheehan. He orchestrated a blurry and swift search of all his usual alcohol stashes. He came up short.
"Where. Are. They?"
"Hidden," Joshua mumbled.
"Did Max put you up to this?" Alec spat out.
A moment of brightness. This was easier to answer.
"No. Cindy."
Seeing that Alec looked about to explode with his fists, Normal stepped up. After all, a kitchen on the day of his nuptials wasn’t at all the place for the Return of Monty Cora, (again,) although there was one fan who sure would like to see his triumphant return to the ring!
"You can still have the coffee, my boy. Start with that. Make the most of it! Not every day we have a shipment coming in and…" He gawped at the beans, neatly separating the possible combatant and victim, "Yes, that’s a good blend! Resplendent!"
Maybe Alec melted a little. Maybe he didn’t have it in his heart to refuse a beaming Normal who used the word resplendent. Okay, Max could have, but that was her problem. Alec was a magnanimous man. About to have coffee.
"And you can get us something to eat with that coffee," Normal turned to Joshua, feeling his usual confidence return as he issued further orders. He had quite forgotten that both men weren’t in his employ and were capable of pushing him a few meters away with one finger. For his part, Joshua was happy to do something that meant no shouting at him. Max and O.C. had always been on Normal’s case, but now that he had spent some quality time with him --
"You’re dope, man!" He affably told the bespectacled martinet, who joined Alec in a round of spluttering.
"He’s been spending a lot of time with Sketchy," Alec helpfully explained.
"That degenerate has a lot of apologizing to do to the English language!"
"Um, yeah," Alec agreed, deciding to give his full attention to the coffee pot instead. Oh, great, sweet coffee pot. Shiny and usually committed to producing brown sludge that drinkers pretended contained caffeine. It had accompanied many late night discussions with Max about the transgenics’ ongoing needs - developing Terminal City, allowing them into the job market, best using their specialized skills. . .
"Here," he handed out his closest attempt yet at coffee to accompany the hash burnt Joshua was producing.
Normal sniffed his as if he were on a TV coffee advertisement, which made Alec blink dubiously.
"Ah, this is really good. How did you get it?"
Hoping it really was the coffee and not just the fact that he’d made it that was eliciting this response, Alec said wryly, "Logan sent it to us." A wedding gift from Colombia from your fiancée’s ex was something to be treated carefully, right?
"It’s so rich, so strong!" Alec had decided how he was going to take Normal's enthusiasms and merely commented that they'd need it, looking towards where the hands that could create art-works-that-sold-pretty-well-thanks were both waving a spatula and fanning the smoke.
Frantically.
Alec closed his eyes to remember a time when his kitchen wasn’t in danger of going up in flames. When - he was turning into such a sap - he’d first kissed Max. He hadn’t meant to do it and if he’d daydreamed about it, realistically he’d expected a shove, a slap or a broken jaw. Which was why he hadn’t meant to lean forward and. . .
He quirked a grin, maybe the kitchen had been in danger of going up in flames already.
They breakfasted like kings on Alec’s supply of cold pizza, Twinkies and a pineapple Normal had brought the previous night. They panicked as they realized time was not going as scheduled. Alec claimed his right to shower first as the homeowner, groom and star attraction, but after coming out, proceeded to sit on his bed employing a thousand-yard stare for thirty minutes. Joshua implored and Normal cajoled, and then ordered him into his suit.
Of course the ordinary then flustered Joshua into a near fit by asking if he had the rings. Joshua didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He patted every pocket he had, he felt guilty for letting down the most important people in his life, oh, unworthy cur that he was. Alec walked out of his bedroom to the beginning of a building-shaking howl.
"What’s going on?" he asked, wincing.
"He‘s lost the rings!" Normal hurled at him, practically mincing in his dismay.
"He never had the rings!" responded a diverted Alec in kind. "That’s O.C.’s deal!"
His chin and nose pointed to the ceiling, his mouth agape because he’d cut himself off mid-howl, Joshua’s eyes gradually descended towards Alec.
"O.C.?" he questioned.
"Yeah, it was easier for her to pick them up. Remember?"
"And Max said getting Alec there on time plenty for Big Fella to do," nodded Joshua.
Alec grimaced at that, but muttered, "Like she’s the poster girl for punctuality."
Normal had been looking Alec up and down, and his eyes stayed upon the shoes in especial admiration, before saying,
"Polished to a military finish," Alec saw nothing to drool about in that. Especially when there was so very much that could go wrong.
"Are we ready? What time is it? Is the car here?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Joshua responded.
"It’s "yes" o’clock, is it?" Alec demanded, amused despite the fact that his nerves were working overtime, double-time, ragtime, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Normal made a point of looking at his watch importantly.
"The car is here in five. Why don’t you sit down? No, won’t that crease the pants?" Alec sat down anyway, with the other two joining him on the couch. Suddenly all the energy left the room.
"Josh, it’s me. Tell me, your good, good pal, tell me where did you hide the nectar?" the hero of the day asked glumly.
"Not telling," Joshua answered promptly, crossing his arms across his chest. "Promised."
"Alcohol is a crutch that you don’t need on your big day, rock star," boomed the pompous corner of the couch. Alec quietly thought of a couple of ways a human’s windpipe can be crushed. More than a couple, actually, his training had been quite extensive on the matter.
"What if the car’s late? Or forgets us?" he blurted out, suddenly really worried. Ok, not worried. If that happened, he was walking to Crash and lining up the scotches as he awaited his gruesome execution.
"Won’t," Joshua said confidently. "Max booked."
Alec smiled appreciatively, imagining the scene. A petite dynamo with appealing brown eyes that drew you in until you saw the razor in them. If she’d smiled, the person on the other side would have been lost. Of course, the booking clerk could have been a straight female or cut from Normal’s jib, in which case, his little darling would have probably used straight up intimidation to get her way.
Predictably, Joshua heard the car stop outside the building. A moment of panic and confusion came upon them all.
"Have you forgotten anything?" Normal shouted. Alec stared at him, eyebrows raised, incapable of coherent thought, let alone retrieving memories. "This is important, man!"
"Alec all we need," Joshua said firmly, dragging the frozen groom and hyperactive usher out down the hallway and stairs to the waiting car. He had to release Normal because he was bellowing that actually the door to the apartment ought to be shut. But he never let go of the confused X5-494, who was wondering who this Alec person was, and how maybe alcohol would help him remember.
The car was a tasteful old school black sedan. Joshua bundled his charge to the back. Normal scuttled to the front, firing questions:-
To the driver:
"Do you know where you’re going to?"
To the back:
"Is there a suitcase for the honeymoon?
"Yes sir, registry office."
"Mole’s responsibility," Alec snapped back into his body, remembering Max’s instructions on that score - to pack light.
The traffic behaved beautifully, Alec amused himself visualizing his betrothed weaving around the route yesterday, asking every driver if they were going to be coming the same way tomorrow, and if so to be considerate or she’d find out and kick their butts. He almost wouldn’t put it past her.
There was a blur of faces to meet and greet upon leaving the soothing sedan. Mole, Dix and Luke mixed with people who called Alec alderman and really, really wanted to shake his hand; a curious looking Dalton, obviously seeing this wedding as a sociological experiment; Asha, looking pretty fine and wishing him good luck; The clerk, no bride, no bride, no bride. . .
Thirty minutes later, O.C. dumped her on his arm.
"You’re late," he hissed.
"Bite me," she hissed right back, and then, remembering they weren’t in a church, she added "on the ass."
"Left cheek or right?"
"We’ll discuss that later."
END
Feedback is loved.
* * *
Title: Out in the cold.
Rating: PG - 13 (just in case.)
Pairing: Alec/Gem, Max/Alec implied.
Summary: An X-5 female goes into heat and chooses an available alpha male.
Read it at Geocities
Disclaimer: Don’t own or profit from the characters, only playing with them.
Author’s notes: Max’s POV. Takes place almost immediately post 'After the Dark'. Big thank you to FridayAngel for betaing, any idiocies are all my fault.
Out in the cold: shallowness
Luke was still chuckling at the getting back to normal crack Max had made, as she ducked her head, focusing on the inventory. Some stocks were low enough to cause concern. Sure, they’d been distracted the past few weeks, but they were going to need to work on firming up the supply lines. As Logan said, with some effort and persuasion, the Freaks might actually be able to afford turning to legitimate markets.
She was dimly aware that the transhuman’s laughter had stopped. It then occurred to her that Command was weirdly quiet. Biting her lower lip, she surveyed the room, discovering that she was the only X5 there. Near the main entrance, two X6 girls were sorting through salvaged binoculars, while a huddle of transhumans - the nomalies of her childhood - were huddled up at Dix’s level, watching something on his monitors.
“Hey, gents,” she called sharply, “what’s up?”
Mole, the tallest and so the farthest away from the screens, was the only one to pay her any heed. Maybe it was the way the lighting fell on the exact spot he stood, but his face was unreadable to her, and she’d found out months ago that he was capable of more than derisive glares. She tensed up, anxious.
“X5 girlie’s gone into heat, no big,” he spat out. For him it was a measured tone. But knowing this could mean havoc, Max blurred from her position in the main area, up the stairs, wriggling through unmoving bodies. She found her way to stand between Luke and a seated Dix.
“Uh, Max,” she turned to look at the usually good-humored digger, before getting more than a glimpse of Terminal City Artworks’ first floor restaurant on the screen. ”You sure you want to be watching this?”
She scowled at him.
“If it’s X-rated, should any of us be watching?”
Terminal City was still working out how to deal with the females’ heat cycles. This wasn’t Manticore, so reinforced cages weren’t an option, but sometimes Max wished that she had some for the more frustrated members of her small community.
“She’s making her choice,” Dix commented, his voice almost as tense as the crush of bodies around her. Max turned to watch the action.
It was not what she expected to see.
They’d set the camera up soon as it became obvious that the sector cops and the good people ordered to guard Terminal City liked the joint, just not the people. So the Freaks had made sure that any threatening behavior was on tape. Through Max’s new and recently improved connection with Logan, they had a line to eyes Only, who was always up for sharing any police misdemeanors with the good folk of Seattle. The camera was set up to see most of the serving area, leaving only a few booths out of the sight-line.
Leaning against the counter, an apron lying on its top, right at the back of the shot was a short, dark-haired woman, surrounded by a group of X-series males. Fivers mainly from their size, but one or two adolescent sixers. Otherwise the place was empty, in the mid-afternoon lull. Something to be thankful for.
“Tell me someone was babysitting Eve,” the CO in Max said crisply.
“We’re good, Joshua is,” replied Dix. She nodded and looked closer at the monitor, trying to assess the situation they had going down, Gem was making a move. Stepping forward from her counter with the confidence of too many days’ training on a marching ground, head tilted up, shoulders pulled back defiantly, displaying her curves for all that she was in jeans and a t-shirt. There was nothing ordinary about this woman - she had the full attention of her court of men, all on her territory, and the confident smile on her face let the world know she was enjoying the choice she was about to make.
Did she look like that, Max wondered? She’d always run when it came upon her, never embracing it like this. Of course, she was different, with a human boyfriend now, and she’d always suffered her cycles on the outside with regular guys before. One downside of leaving Manticore before puberty.
Gem stepped forward, looking over every man and boy as if she wanted them all. But it was in her genes to choose one - an alpha - good enough to be her breeding partner. And eyes shining cat-like, ease and promise in her gait, none would refuse her. Looking for a mate, she took her time, giving every one of them hope.
A tantalizing smile on her lips gave away that the choice had been made. All the watchers inhaled. She raised her hand and pointed.
“Him,” said her lips. Although the cameras weren’t equipped to pick up the sound, Max heard the voice in her mind nonetheless, a sort of purring.
He stepped forward, the edge of a shoulder growing into a body on the screen, as if he hadn’t needed to flaunt himself, because he was always going to win this contest. His barcode was hidden by unkempt light brown hair, covering the collar of his jacket, but the keen eyed watchers knew who he was from just that movement. A space was created around Max, as if they all sensed the shockwave hitting her.
Alec must have said something, because the other Xs stepped away, beaten. The youngest ones looked the most humiliated.
It was only seconds, and Max couldn’t breathe, as her stomach dropped out, then the transgenic male blurred towards the female, a hand going to her dark hair to bring her face forward for a kiss. It was hungry. Primal.
And Max watched her friends with a sick fascination. Gem was pressed up against him, none of his hands free as he possessively brought her closer.
“Oh, get a room,” Mole drawled as if it were exactly the same as when Kace and Darrow nearly copulated outside the medical center. As if there wasn’t something very wrong with the world.
It was as if Alec heard the admonition though, because he let her go. Gem looked up immediately at him, beyond controlling her expression now. He had to be saying something to make it right, making some promise for what was ahead, because she took his hand. They blurred out of the camera’s sight.
Max’s hands smacked down on Dix’s shoulder even as he reached out to track them via the Mall’s cameras.
“Give them some privacy,” she said, her voice deadly.
“Ok, ok.”
“Best set up a sparring tournament for the losers,” Mole offered. “’Least make sure they’re not beating each other up without witnesses.”
Violence, Max thought, sounded like a great idea about now. Perhaps she could pound out the image of her breeding partner unrestrainedly kissing another X5 with those full lips of his, of those muscled arms crushing another body to him. And the thoughts of hurried undressing and revealing, lips to skin, teeth and more bared. . .
“Set it up, Mole,” she ordered loudly. “Open to anybody who wants in.”
End
Feedback will be snuggled.
Rating: PG.
Genre: Foof.
Pairing: Max/Alec (Alec, Joshua, Normal friendship.)
Summary: On the morning of Alec’s nuptials there was some panic and confusion...
Read it at Geocities
Disclaimer: They don’t belong to me and I make no profit from them.
Author's Notes: Thanks to FridayAngel for betaing this, all idiocies are mine. There are two small spoilers for After the Dark.
A few months ago, at 4.40am I was plagued by hiccups and the foofbunny.
I’m Getting Married Later On This Morning: shallowness
Alec woke up with a start, his eyes opening wide to take in the horror ahead of him. His room looked the same as always (if he didn’t look at where his suit hung) but the very air he was breathing was different. Right, he was still breathing. That was good, even if nothing else were.
He pulled back the covers and emptied the bed in a move you would call graceful if you were unfamiliar with the X5-series. This morning he bolted through the bedroom doorway, to the apartment’s living area, hoping that when he walked in, there’d be proof enough that it was all a dream.
But Joshua - all six foot nearly seven - stood waiting for him, beaming. Alec groaned and seriously considered turning back for his bed, but Josh was greeting him ("Morning, Alec") with a curious mix of enthusiasm and wariness. Instead of realizing that his friend had seen and understood his not so positive reaction, the shorter man berated him with "Why didn’t we have my stag party last night? That way all I’d have to concentrate on was a hangover."
"Max said no, remember?"
Alec’s lips became a set line. She’d been very explicit about breaking all his fingers and toes if he didn’t have over twenty-four hours between the stag night and what lay ahead.
Although he’d paid lip-service to the usual revved up metabolism argument, he hadn’t minded complying - over twenty-four hours ago.
"Guevara even had a back up plan," came Normal’s admiring voice from the couch. "Marched into her former place of employment yesterday with copies of pictures of your handsome mug, and ordered we take them to the bouncers of every bar, burlesque club or strip joint in this sector. Very thorough. Never knew she had it in her to be that motivated"
"She what? They what?" Alec spluttered as his house-guest put on his glasses and sat up. What bars have doormen anyway? Wait, wait, she went to those bars? "There’s fighting dirty and then there’s… Doesn’t she trust me?"
"No," Joshua shook his shaggy head mournfully. Alec looked at a fellow recipient of the "all the bones in your body" speech and commiserated. Until the memory of his fate returned to crush him.
"So, what you gonna rustle up for breakfast, boys?" demanded the becouched Normal, far, far too cheerfully. Alec - aghast - wondered if he had any control left of his life whatsoever.
He considered flight briefly, but assumed his beloved had chained up both of his bikes and informed the traffic division of Seattle P.D. to watch out for him.
Maybe he could barricade himself in the apartment.
"Let’s make it a hearty meal! Fighter like you needs his strength," Normal said, stretching up to his feet, Alec watched him from the sides of his eyes.
Asking Joshua, his brother in arms, to be his best man had been natural, but how had Normal become an usher again? Then Alec remembered the "discussion" with Max:
"He’s more responsible than Sketchy."
End of "discussion."
Really, Alec hadn’t thought the initial suggestion through. It was just Sketchy had been pleading to take part in the shackling on of the proverbial ball and chain, and Alec was back at Crash and feeling sentimental. Sober and reasonable, Alec could see the force of her argument. The upholder of truth, fourth estate style, was quite likely to take the opportunity to ask some of Alec’s fellow council members about their wilder nights. And whatever Sketchy did, Max would put the blame on him. Normal could be depended upon to be safely obsequious, all you wanted from an usher. The Sketchster had been assigned to take the pictures.
"Alec? Chow now?"
The groom-to-be groaned at the interruption to his flashbacks and walked towards the kitchen, his best man shadowing him faithfully. Maybe a little hungrily, too.
"Never marry a soldier, Josh," he was solemnly told. "She can’t but plan it like a military campaign."
Joshua bark-laughed as enthusiastically as someone who’s heard the same comment repeatedly and moreover has a big and empty stomach can. He was rewarded; Alec was rummaging for coffee and --
"Where’s the whiskey?" He turned to glare at the friend to whom he’d been so kindly dispensing such good advice. "The scotch?
"Josh-u-a, why can I not have some Irish coffee on this morning, of all mornings?"
There was cowering in the kitchen and a strategic encampment at the couch. Both behaviors goaded Alec O’Reilly Murphy Kerry Guinness Clancy Sheehan. He orchestrated a blurry and swift search of all his usual alcohol stashes. He came up short.
"Where. Are. They?"
"Hidden," Joshua mumbled.
"Did Max put you up to this?" Alec spat out.
A moment of brightness. This was easier to answer.
"No. Cindy."
Seeing that Alec looked about to explode with his fists, Normal stepped up. After all, a kitchen on the day of his nuptials wasn’t at all the place for the Return of Monty Cora, (again,) although there was one fan who sure would like to see his triumphant return to the ring!
"You can still have the coffee, my boy. Start with that. Make the most of it! Not every day we have a shipment coming in and…" He gawped at the beans, neatly separating the possible combatant and victim, "Yes, that’s a good blend! Resplendent!"
Maybe Alec melted a little. Maybe he didn’t have it in his heart to refuse a beaming Normal who used the word resplendent. Okay, Max could have, but that was her problem. Alec was a magnanimous man. About to have coffee.
"And you can get us something to eat with that coffee," Normal turned to Joshua, feeling his usual confidence return as he issued further orders. He had quite forgotten that both men weren’t in his employ and were capable of pushing him a few meters away with one finger. For his part, Joshua was happy to do something that meant no shouting at him. Max and O.C. had always been on Normal’s case, but now that he had spent some quality time with him --
"You’re dope, man!" He affably told the bespectacled martinet, who joined Alec in a round of spluttering.
"He’s been spending a lot of time with Sketchy," Alec helpfully explained.
"That degenerate has a lot of apologizing to do to the English language!"
"Um, yeah," Alec agreed, deciding to give his full attention to the coffee pot instead. Oh, great, sweet coffee pot. Shiny and usually committed to producing brown sludge that drinkers pretended contained caffeine. It had accompanied many late night discussions with Max about the transgenics’ ongoing needs - developing Terminal City, allowing them into the job market, best using their specialized skills. . .
"Here," he handed out his closest attempt yet at coffee to accompany the hash burnt Joshua was producing.
Normal sniffed his as if he were on a TV coffee advertisement, which made Alec blink dubiously.
"Ah, this is really good. How did you get it?"
Hoping it really was the coffee and not just the fact that he’d made it that was eliciting this response, Alec said wryly, "Logan sent it to us." A wedding gift from Colombia from your fiancée’s ex was something to be treated carefully, right?
"It’s so rich, so strong!" Alec had decided how he was going to take Normal's enthusiasms and merely commented that they'd need it, looking towards where the hands that could create art-works-that-sold-pretty-well-thanks were both waving a spatula and fanning the smoke.
Frantically.
Alec closed his eyes to remember a time when his kitchen wasn’t in danger of going up in flames. When - he was turning into such a sap - he’d first kissed Max. He hadn’t meant to do it and if he’d daydreamed about it, realistically he’d expected a shove, a slap or a broken jaw. Which was why he hadn’t meant to lean forward and. . .
He quirked a grin, maybe the kitchen had been in danger of going up in flames already.
They breakfasted like kings on Alec’s supply of cold pizza, Twinkies and a pineapple Normal had brought the previous night. They panicked as they realized time was not going as scheduled. Alec claimed his right to shower first as the homeowner, groom and star attraction, but after coming out, proceeded to sit on his bed employing a thousand-yard stare for thirty minutes. Joshua implored and Normal cajoled, and then ordered him into his suit.
Of course the ordinary then flustered Joshua into a near fit by asking if he had the rings. Joshua didn’t. He knew he didn’t. He patted every pocket he had, he felt guilty for letting down the most important people in his life, oh, unworthy cur that he was. Alec walked out of his bedroom to the beginning of a building-shaking howl.
"What’s going on?" he asked, wincing.
"He‘s lost the rings!" Normal hurled at him, practically mincing in his dismay.
"He never had the rings!" responded a diverted Alec in kind. "That’s O.C.’s deal!"
His chin and nose pointed to the ceiling, his mouth agape because he’d cut himself off mid-howl, Joshua’s eyes gradually descended towards Alec.
"O.C.?" he questioned.
"Yeah, it was easier for her to pick them up. Remember?"
"And Max said getting Alec there on time plenty for Big Fella to do," nodded Joshua.
Alec grimaced at that, but muttered, "Like she’s the poster girl for punctuality."
Normal had been looking Alec up and down, and his eyes stayed upon the shoes in especial admiration, before saying,
"Polished to a military finish," Alec saw nothing to drool about in that. Especially when there was so very much that could go wrong.
"Are we ready? What time is it? Is the car here?"
"Yes, yes, yes!" Joshua responded.
"It’s "yes" o’clock, is it?" Alec demanded, amused despite the fact that his nerves were working overtime, double-time, ragtime, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Normal made a point of looking at his watch importantly.
"The car is here in five. Why don’t you sit down? No, won’t that crease the pants?" Alec sat down anyway, with the other two joining him on the couch. Suddenly all the energy left the room.
"Josh, it’s me. Tell me, your good, good pal, tell me where did you hide the nectar?" the hero of the day asked glumly.
"Not telling," Joshua answered promptly, crossing his arms across his chest. "Promised."
"Alcohol is a crutch that you don’t need on your big day, rock star," boomed the pompous corner of the couch. Alec quietly thought of a couple of ways a human’s windpipe can be crushed. More than a couple, actually, his training had been quite extensive on the matter.
"What if the car’s late? Or forgets us?" he blurted out, suddenly really worried. Ok, not worried. If that happened, he was walking to Crash and lining up the scotches as he awaited his gruesome execution.
"Won’t," Joshua said confidently. "Max booked."
Alec smiled appreciatively, imagining the scene. A petite dynamo with appealing brown eyes that drew you in until you saw the razor in them. If she’d smiled, the person on the other side would have been lost. Of course, the booking clerk could have been a straight female or cut from Normal’s jib, in which case, his little darling would have probably used straight up intimidation to get her way.
Predictably, Joshua heard the car stop outside the building. A moment of panic and confusion came upon them all.
"Have you forgotten anything?" Normal shouted. Alec stared at him, eyebrows raised, incapable of coherent thought, let alone retrieving memories. "This is important, man!"
"Alec all we need," Joshua said firmly, dragging the frozen groom and hyperactive usher out down the hallway and stairs to the waiting car. He had to release Normal because he was bellowing that actually the door to the apartment ought to be shut. But he never let go of the confused X5-494, who was wondering who this Alec person was, and how maybe alcohol would help him remember.
The car was a tasteful old school black sedan. Joshua bundled his charge to the back. Normal scuttled to the front, firing questions:-
To the driver:
"Do you know where you’re going to?"
To the back:
"Is there a suitcase for the honeymoon?
"Yes sir, registry office."
"Mole’s responsibility," Alec snapped back into his body, remembering Max’s instructions on that score - to pack light.
The traffic behaved beautifully, Alec amused himself visualizing his betrothed weaving around the route yesterday, asking every driver if they were going to be coming the same way tomorrow, and if so to be considerate or she’d find out and kick their butts. He almost wouldn’t put it past her.
There was a blur of faces to meet and greet upon leaving the soothing sedan. Mole, Dix and Luke mixed with people who called Alec alderman and really, really wanted to shake his hand; a curious looking Dalton, obviously seeing this wedding as a sociological experiment; Asha, looking pretty fine and wishing him good luck; The clerk, no bride, no bride, no bride. . .
Thirty minutes later, O.C. dumped her on his arm.
"You’re late," he hissed.
"Bite me," she hissed right back, and then, remembering they weren’t in a church, she added "on the ass."
"Left cheek or right?"
"We’ll discuss that later."
END
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* * *
Title: Out in the cold.
Rating: PG - 13 (just in case.)
Pairing: Alec/Gem, Max/Alec implied.
Summary: An X-5 female goes into heat and chooses an available alpha male.
Read it at Geocities
Disclaimer: Don’t own or profit from the characters, only playing with them.
Author’s notes: Max’s POV. Takes place almost immediately post 'After the Dark'. Big thank you to FridayAngel for betaing, any idiocies are all my fault.
Out in the cold: shallowness
Luke was still chuckling at the getting back to normal crack Max had made, as she ducked her head, focusing on the inventory. Some stocks were low enough to cause concern. Sure, they’d been distracted the past few weeks, but they were going to need to work on firming up the supply lines. As Logan said, with some effort and persuasion, the Freaks might actually be able to afford turning to legitimate markets.
She was dimly aware that the transhuman’s laughter had stopped. It then occurred to her that Command was weirdly quiet. Biting her lower lip, she surveyed the room, discovering that she was the only X5 there. Near the main entrance, two X6 girls were sorting through salvaged binoculars, while a huddle of transhumans - the nomalies of her childhood - were huddled up at Dix’s level, watching something on his monitors.
“Hey, gents,” she called sharply, “what’s up?”
Mole, the tallest and so the farthest away from the screens, was the only one to pay her any heed. Maybe it was the way the lighting fell on the exact spot he stood, but his face was unreadable to her, and she’d found out months ago that he was capable of more than derisive glares. She tensed up, anxious.
“X5 girlie’s gone into heat, no big,” he spat out. For him it was a measured tone. But knowing this could mean havoc, Max blurred from her position in the main area, up the stairs, wriggling through unmoving bodies. She found her way to stand between Luke and a seated Dix.
“Uh, Max,” she turned to look at the usually good-humored digger, before getting more than a glimpse of Terminal City Artworks’ first floor restaurant on the screen. ”You sure you want to be watching this?”
She scowled at him.
“If it’s X-rated, should any of us be watching?”
Terminal City was still working out how to deal with the females’ heat cycles. This wasn’t Manticore, so reinforced cages weren’t an option, but sometimes Max wished that she had some for the more frustrated members of her small community.
“She’s making her choice,” Dix commented, his voice almost as tense as the crush of bodies around her. Max turned to watch the action.
It was not what she expected to see.
They’d set the camera up soon as it became obvious that the sector cops and the good people ordered to guard Terminal City liked the joint, just not the people. So the Freaks had made sure that any threatening behavior was on tape. Through Max’s new and recently improved connection with Logan, they had a line to eyes Only, who was always up for sharing any police misdemeanors with the good folk of Seattle. The camera was set up to see most of the serving area, leaving only a few booths out of the sight-line.
Leaning against the counter, an apron lying on its top, right at the back of the shot was a short, dark-haired woman, surrounded by a group of X-series males. Fivers mainly from their size, but one or two adolescent sixers. Otherwise the place was empty, in the mid-afternoon lull. Something to be thankful for.
“Tell me someone was babysitting Eve,” the CO in Max said crisply.
“We’re good, Joshua is,” replied Dix. She nodded and looked closer at the monitor, trying to assess the situation they had going down, Gem was making a move. Stepping forward from her counter with the confidence of too many days’ training on a marching ground, head tilted up, shoulders pulled back defiantly, displaying her curves for all that she was in jeans and a t-shirt. There was nothing ordinary about this woman - she had the full attention of her court of men, all on her territory, and the confident smile on her face let the world know she was enjoying the choice she was about to make.
Did she look like that, Max wondered? She’d always run when it came upon her, never embracing it like this. Of course, she was different, with a human boyfriend now, and she’d always suffered her cycles on the outside with regular guys before. One downside of leaving Manticore before puberty.
Gem stepped forward, looking over every man and boy as if she wanted them all. But it was in her genes to choose one - an alpha - good enough to be her breeding partner. And eyes shining cat-like, ease and promise in her gait, none would refuse her. Looking for a mate, she took her time, giving every one of them hope.
A tantalizing smile on her lips gave away that the choice had been made. All the watchers inhaled. She raised her hand and pointed.
“Him,” said her lips. Although the cameras weren’t equipped to pick up the sound, Max heard the voice in her mind nonetheless, a sort of purring.
He stepped forward, the edge of a shoulder growing into a body on the screen, as if he hadn’t needed to flaunt himself, because he was always going to win this contest. His barcode was hidden by unkempt light brown hair, covering the collar of his jacket, but the keen eyed watchers knew who he was from just that movement. A space was created around Max, as if they all sensed the shockwave hitting her.
Alec must have said something, because the other Xs stepped away, beaten. The youngest ones looked the most humiliated.
It was only seconds, and Max couldn’t breathe, as her stomach dropped out, then the transgenic male blurred towards the female, a hand going to her dark hair to bring her face forward for a kiss. It was hungry. Primal.
And Max watched her friends with a sick fascination. Gem was pressed up against him, none of his hands free as he possessively brought her closer.
“Oh, get a room,” Mole drawled as if it were exactly the same as when Kace and Darrow nearly copulated outside the medical center. As if there wasn’t something very wrong with the world.
It was as if Alec heard the admonition though, because he let her go. Gem looked up immediately at him, beyond controlling her expression now. He had to be saying something to make it right, making some promise for what was ahead, because she took his hand. They blurred out of the camera’s sight.
Max’s hands smacked down on Dix’s shoulder even as he reached out to track them via the Mall’s cameras.
“Give them some privacy,” she said, her voice deadly.
“Ok, ok.”
“Best set up a sparring tournament for the losers,” Mole offered. “’Least make sure they’re not beating each other up without witnesses.”
Violence, Max thought, sounded like a great idea about now. Perhaps she could pound out the image of her breeding partner unrestrainedly kissing another X5 with those full lips of his, of those muscled arms crushing another body to him. And the thoughts of hurried undressing and revealing, lips to skin, teeth and more bared. . .
“Set it up, Mole,” she ordered loudly. “Open to anybody who wants in.”
End
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