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Reply to Debbie or visit her websiteAdded to the Roswell Slash Archive April 23, 2001
Disclaimer: I own a house. I don't own Roswell.
Distribution: Guilty Pleasures and the RSA. All others please ask first.
Author's Note/Summary: Three unrelated Max/Kyle ficlets popped into my head. They're all short, so that's why I just lumped them together. Many thanks to hah and Bennie for their beta-reading talents.
Feedback: Yes please. Even short notes mean a lot to me. I accept constructive as well as positive remarks.
Isabel has always been called the Ice Princess by her peers, and it's easy to see why. She keeps a very closed expression, more so when people try to get close to her in anything other than a superficial manner. I remember, very early on, asking her why she held herself apart, and she pointed out that any fears I might have about letting someone in -- that was how she felt, times a million. As a result, she's learned to keep a tight rein on her emotions. The more strongly she feels about something, the more she shuts down.
Why am I talking about Isabel when I really want to talk about Max? Because he does the exact same things. Over the past year and a half I've really noticed how he, too, tends to keep the world at arm's length if he feels something -- or someone -- getting too close. Like his sister, he'll show happiness for emotionally lightweight pleasures, and perhaps he'll frown or look concerned if something bothers him. But for things that are intensely close to his heart and soul -- nothing. Only rarely can I catch the briefest glimpse of the seething turmoil going on behind his eyes when something deeply personal is on his mind.
Does he know how closed-off his expression becomes every time he sees Kyle?
I'd say that it's repressed anger about the whole me-sleeping-with-Kyle fiasco, but I sincerely doubt it. I've seen Max express anger. This is something else.
"How can you say that? I've seen the way he looks at you," Maria protested, when I tried to explain my theory to her. But see, that's just it -- since he's so open with his emotions around me, I know that I'm not the be-all, end-all for him. That Max cares for me is obvious. But when it comes right down to it, the person who really gets him going, deep in the gut where love and pain become almost the same thing -- well, I think that's pretty clear. His feelings are blatantly apparent by their very lack of expression.
However, judging by Max's behavior the past few months, I'd say he's still trying to convince himself that I'm the one for him. And I'm flattered -- he's a great guy and, honestly, who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of those gorgeous brown eyes? But it's not real, and I know it. And that's all right with me. Lately there's been another pair of brown eyes I've wanted to gaze into, anyway. Getting back the point, Max's cherished denial is the reason why I haven't confronted him about his obvious feelings for Kyle. I know, without a doubt, that he would protest, bury himself further in denial, and just be angry at me for even suggesting it.
Max has climbed the ladder to my balcony a million times. How can I get him to climb over this wall he's built around his heart?
Rated PG13 for language
You know, when I told Alex that I felt like I'd been suddenly thrust into this club I never wanted to join, I'm sure he thought I was just talking about the freaky alien stuff. And that was part of it, of course. I mean -- really. No one should be able to do some of the stuff they do, and I'm not crazy about having my life in danger every three days.
But there's another reason I don't want to be part of this club: It brings me into close proximity with Max.
I already knew I was really fucked up when it came to Max. For months I'd been following him with my eyes, and whenever I had to deal with him directly, my mouth would go dry and my heart would pound so loudly I was sure he could hear it. I wasn't proud of these reactions. I hated feeling that way about Evans. But my body and brain wouldn't listen to reason. He was under my skin, and there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it. Dating Vicki Delaney, the hottest chick in the school, didn't work. Telling myself he stole my girlfriend didn't work. Nothing. All I could do was stay away, keep as much distance between us as possible. That way, at least, I could pretend I had my feelings under control. And I could pull off a convincing indifference -- even dislike -- of him.
But after Max healed me, my dad told me the truth about the alien band. Suddenly, I was expected to join Liz and the others in being their friends. In helping them out. In participating in their little galactic adventures. In spending time with them. Lots and lots of time.
So now I've had to be around Mr. Tall, Dark and Alien way more than I'm comfortable with. I've tried staying away. I've tried telling *him* to stay away. But I never get more than a temporary reprieve. He's everywhere I go, and I'm constantly battling to suppress my reactions and appear normal. I don't know how much longer I can take this.
Why do I have the sinking feeling that membership in this club never expires?
(Written before HoM aired)
"I'm going to get some air," Max said as he pushed his chair back from the table.
Liz turned to him as he stood. "You all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just hot in here." Max flapped the edges of his tuxedo jacket a little, inducing a small breeze. "You get to wear that light, sleeveless dress. I have to wear this long-sleeved shirt, long wool pants, and a wool jacket. To say nothing of the noose," he joked, giving the bow tie a tug. "And, besides, the Tabasco makes you warmer on the inside, too."
Liz smiled. "Oh, ok. Want me to come with you?" She started to rise.
"No, that's ok. I'll only be a minute." He put his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture before turning and walking away.
Max quickly threaded his way through the cluster of tables until he came to the door. A balcony ran along three sides of the room where the Prom was being held, affording students the chance to get some air and to take in the nighttime view. Stepping outside, Max took a deep breath of the cool evening air, and, turning left, walked along the promenade until he spotted the lone figure leaning against the railing at the end.
"Took you long enough," Kyle said, without taking his eyes off the vista in front of him.
"Sorry. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get away." With a few more steps, Max had closed the distance between them.
Kyle finally shifted his gaze to skim Max over, top to toe. "Damn. Can I just say that you look good in a tux, Evans?" One hand reached out to brush Max's broad chest.
Max grinned. "And can I just say that you picked an awfully bright location for us to meet?" He gestured to the lamp that hung overhead.
"Well, if I'd turned it off beforehand, you might not have found me, now would you?" But without further protest, Kyle reached up until his fingers touched the cord and, with a small frown of concentration, extinguished the lamp. "Happy now?"
"Definitely." Their little corner of the balcony was now completely dark. "You're getting pretty good at that," Max added, as Kyle backed him up against the wall.
"Good at what?" Kyle murmured against Max's mouth. "Using the Martian magic you accidentally gave me? Or at kissing you?" He pressed his lips to Max's, as if to prove his point.
"Either. Both." Max felt his grasp of intelligent thought rapidly disintegrating as the heat of Kyle's tongue sought entrance. He granted it, willingly, and returned the gesture by exploring the moist warmth of Kyle's mouth with his own. Max tried to remain quiet -- there were other people still on the promenade, after all, beyond their darkened corner -- but he couldn't prevent a small groan escaping when Kyle pressed the full length of his body against his own, allowing other heated, hardened areas to rub against each other.
"Kyle," Max gasped. "Kyle, we have to stop."
Kyle was busy sucking on Max's neck. "Why?"
"Because--" Max struggled to focus his mind as Kyle's hands started roaming. "Because if you keep doing that, I'm going to have a hard time explaining the stains on these pants when I go back in. And anyway, I said I'd only be gone a minute and I don't think you want Liz to come out and find us."
With a final flick of his tongue on Max's ear, Kyle pulled away. "Oh, all right. Will I at least get an alien visitation tonight after this stupid dance is over?"
"You in your room?"
"Yep. It's Tess's week to sleep on the sofa."
"I'll be there."
"You'd better." Kyle ran a hand through his hair and checked to see that his shirt was tucked back in, while Max did the same. "Guess it's time to go give Tess another spin around the dance floor." He sighed. "At least she doesn't step on my feet."
Max waited a moment after Kyle had gone and, making sure that no one was looking his way, reached up and restored the lamp's function. Then he, too, went inside. Worried that he'd aroused Liz's suspicion by being gone too long, he was relieved to see her just returning from the dance floor with Michael in tow. Good -- at least she'd found a way to pass the time.
"You feeling better now?" she asked, as they got near enough to be heard over the music.
"Oh, yes," he smiled in response. "Much."
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