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Reply to Amatia or visit her websiteAdded to the Roswell Slash Archive November 13, 2000
Series: Third in the "Poetry" series.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to the WB.
Archiving: Whatever archives list stuff...all others, drop me a line so I
know where it's at. Thanks!
Summary: Post-"Balance". Yet another angsty piece - Michael and Max have a pretty deep conversation.
Note: The stanza at the beginning is from a poem by Rod McKuen, from his book "Stanyan Street and Other Sorrows". This *does* follow "Visions", which follows "Content".
Author's note at the end.
"Say instead that I am warm
let your touch talk
let the motion in the darkness speak
then go away if you must
but not while I'm looking."
Rod McKuen, "Do Not Tell Me Your Name"
I heard the Jeep approaching the cave before I saw it. Max entered a few moments later, with a confused look on his face. "What is it?" I asked.
"I told Liz it was over."
"Are you all right?"
I held my hand out to him, and he took it, sitting down beside me. "I don't think so."
"Did she understand?"
"I don't know. I tried to explain that for the past week, since she kissed me, that I've been off-balance. And what did she do? She kissed me again." He sighed, and laid his head on my shoulder. I wanted nothing more than to take him in my arms, but I stopped myself. "I'm so confused, Michael," he whispered.
I squeezed his hand. "I'm confused too."
"It seems like nothing's real anymore. Or that nothing was real until now. Liz is just trying to be a normal teenager, and she can't see the whole picture. And I have to see the whole picture, or I'm afraid something will happen."
"Do you see the whole picture when you're with me?"
He nodded, his hair brushing my neck.
It pained me to ask, but I had to. "But how is being with me different than being with Liz?"
Max raised his head to look me in the eyes. "You and I are the same. You see the things that could happen to us if we're found out. Liz doesn't. I can't be with her if she doesn't understand that."
This time I did pull him close. "Do you want to be with her?" I whispered in his ear.
"Not if she doesn't understand me." He kissed my chin.
"Max...don't..." I murmured.
"Why not?" He did it again.
I shivered at his touch, but replied firmly, "Because you're hurting."
"Michael, I need you," he said just as firmly.
With a groan, I let him kiss me. I couldn't deny Max anything, and this was no exception.
His hands skimmed insistently under my shirt, lightly over the skin of my stomach, and couldn't help but shiver under his touch. His mouth was hot and demanding as it devoured mine, the need to connect overriding the need for oxygen.
"I'm sorry," he murmured when we parted.
"The pain in your eyes when I said I was going out with Liz."
I traced his jawline with my thumb. "It's okay, Maxwell."
"Yes, it is." I tried to stop any further protests with a kiss, but felt his resistance. "What is it?"
"I love you, Michael..."
Max brushed chocolate hair from his forehead. "But sometimes I feel like sex is all there is to our relationship."
I sat up straighter, a needle of uncertainty piercing my heart. "Has it ever been anything but, from the first time you pushed me down on your bed and layed down naked and...and..." I fumbled at my own words, "and beautiful beside me, making me fall in love with you? Did you only just figure this out?" Guilt had turned his honey eyes green, and I threaded my fingers through his, wincing inside. "Look, I want to be with you. I'll never stop wanting that. But do you really think we can have a normal relationship? Walk down the street holding hands? Tell your parents we're in love? Max...nothing for us will ever be normal."
He launched himself at me, and I held him tight. "I can't even love you the way I want to," he whispered against my neck. I felt a warm wetness on my skin, and realized he was crying. I felt like crying myself. "Some days all I want is to hold you, but I can't because we're in public, and everyone would know."
Max raised his head, and his red-rimmed eyes widened. "What is it?" I asked, afraid of the look on his face.
He reached out a finger, and ran it over the tear trail on my neck. "Look," he breathed.
The wetness on his finger was glowing silver.
I traced my fingers over his cheeks, and when his tears came into contact with my skin, they turned silver. We stared at each other in astonishment. "I don't believe this," I whispered.
"First visions, and now silver tears," he said in wonder. "Do you...do you think maybe it means something?"
"How about that we're meant for each other?" I suggested, cupping his jaw, and capturing his mouth with my own.
He tasted of tears. I wondered briefly if my lips would be silver now, but the thought slipped from my mind as Max shifted in my arms to press against me. I slid my still wet fingers through his hair, leaving it a mix of mahogany and silver.
"Michael," he murmured, pulling back. "We're getting it all over, and we don't know if it fades."
"I don't care," I whispered feverishly, swooping in to press a silver kiss to his neck.
Sudden fingers on my lips kept me from doing anything more. "Stop," he said firmly.
I frowned, but nodded. "Are my lips silver?"
I licked them. Max chuckled. "Did that help?" I asked.
"Well, yours are too," I said as I leaned against the cave wall, holding him loosely. "So now what? We wait until it fades?"
"Something like that."
"What if it lasts for a few days, like the handprint?"
"Then you'll have to wear lipstick, I guess."
"And you'll have to dye your hair."
He groaned, then gasped. "Wait...we could call Isabel. She could bring her makeup, cover it up for us enough to get home at least."
I raised my eyebrow. "Do you think she can be trusted?"
"She doesn't really have a choice, but yeah, we can trust her. After all, if there's one thing all three of us are good at, it's keeping secrets."
"True." I paused for a moment. "Do you really want to tell her?"
"Maybe if we tell her, it will make this relationship seem a little more real," he said after a few seconds of silence.
I nodded. "All right, call her."
He turned over to lay against me as he used his cell phone to call. I ignored the conversation, concentrating instead on tracing patterns on the soft skin of his stomach. I chuckled at the catch in his voice as I dipped a finger below the waistband of his jeans, and he pinched my thigh with his free hand. "Ow!"
"You are such a pain," he said after snapping the phone closed.
"Is it my fault you're like a drug that I'm so addicted to no rehab will ever get me off of?" I wrapped my arms around his waist. "How about we just stay like this until Isabel gets here?"
"I'm not arguing," he said. "Although I wish I had a camera. The look on her face will be priceless."
"Hmm, how much do you wanna bet that she doesn't blink an eye?" I responded.
"If I win, you give me a blowjob in the eraser closet."
"And if I win, you do the same to me."
"Deal." I could hear the smugness in his voice.
Isabel arrived ten minutes later. I won.
Author's Note: I was kind of getting to the point with Michael and Max where I felt what I was writing for them was all smut and no substance. So this is my shot at putting a little more substance into their relationship, at least as much as I could without getting too far from canon. (At least, canon as it existed after "Balance"...I'm pretending for awhile that "Sexual Healing" isn't gonna happen!)
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