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Late (First Version)
Reply to Minnie or visit her websitePosted to the RoswellSlash mailing list December 29, 2000
Title: Late (1st version)
Summary: Max is late for something
Dedication: To all the slash fic writers out there who have inspired me
Distribution: Please ask.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. No infringement intended.
He was late. Max Evans drummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his jeep, watching Saturday evening traffic on the highway into Roswell crawling to a stop. Great. This was just great. He was going to catch hell.
"Come on, come on, come on" he muttered impatiently. It wasn't like him to be so antsy but today was special. He had to be somewhere. He glanced at his watch. An hour. Already an hour late. It would take another hour or so to get to Roswell. He was dog meat, he knew it.
Two hours later, he pulled the jeep into a parking lot. Inside the nearby building was probably one irate love. He sighed. "What the hell, at least I'm here," he reasoned.
He glanced at the sign just outside the door of the establishment. It paraded his love's name in big, bold letters for all to see. Max smiled widely, feeling quite proud of this accomplishment.
Stopping slightly at the door of the large building, he took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.
Music and the general buzz of conversation filled his ears. The event was in full swing.
His eyes alighted on a familiar figure coming towards him. "You're late," the blonde with curly hair admonished him.
"Hi, Tess. Yeah, I know. Couldn't be helped," he shrugged.
"You know you're in big trouble, right?" she asked him.
He nodded. "So where is the guest of honor?" as his eyes searched for his lover.
"Around here somewhere, probably thinking of ways to make you suffer," Tess piped in.
"Don't they always?" Max smiled ironically.
"Uh-oh. Guest of honor coming this way. Brace yourself." Tess warned as she slid away.
"Where the hell have you been? You're two damn hours late!" the guest yelled.
"I -" Max got out before he got interrupted.
"No, wait, don't tell me. Someone got shot and you had to heal them," came the sarcastic reply.
"No, I promised my father I'd run some errands in Dexter for him. Then I got stuck in traffic," Max explained. "I'm sorry," Max apologized.
Max looked at the crowd of people admiring his love's handiwork. After a beat, he planted a kiss on his lover's lips.
The kiss deepened and Max reluctantly broke it to mutter to his lover, "Congratulations, Michael."
Amazing how one soft kiss dissipated Michael's anger. Then again, for as long as Michael had known Max, he had never been able to stay mad at him for any length of time.
"Next time, you're better be here on time or your ass is grass," Michael got in one last grumble.
"I will," Max promised him with a smile.
Michael grunted, then nudged him playfully towards the throng of patrons gushing over Michael's first and wildly successful sculpture exhibition.
But wait ... there is a second version!!!
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