Title: Cold
Author:Restive Nature
Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Angel. This show belongs to Fox and Cameron/ Elgee. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for reading pleasure only.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Dark Angel
Type: friendship
Pairing: Max/ Alec
Summary: X5's never ever ever get sick, do they?
Spoilers/ Timeline: Late season 2, nothing specific.
Feedback:Always welcome.
Distribution: Ask first, please.
A/N: I wasn't exactly pleased about how this one turned out. It's mostly filler. I haven't had a cold in so long, that I've forgotten how cruddy you feel. Lucky me, huh!
“Oh my God!” the words didn't mean anything as they slipped out of his mouth. It was just more slang that he had picked up from even before Max had set him free from that hellish nightmare also known as Manticore. But just because he was or wasn't religious, and the words were there when cussing wasn't appropriate, though technically speaking it was considered blasphemous; well aside from all of that, it was the emotion behind the words slipping fro Alec's lips that caught his bosses attention.
“Problem there champ?” Normal demanded gently, barely glancing in Alec's direction as he stood his ground behind his counter at Jam Pony messenger service. He was matching up his lists, to see what had gone out, what had been returned as undeliverable and what still needed to go. Perhaps what could even wait for the next day. Because the lord knew that his feckless bums weren't going to even come close to Normal's expected quota. Not that it didn't stop him from dreaming about it.
“Ah, my sinuses are killing me,” Alec grumbled as he pinched his nose lightly and then shook his head. “And my throat's all scratchy. I can barely swallow.” He was starting to worry as he started listing off his symptoms. Because now that he thought about it, his head kind of hurt too. That, for a transgenic, was not a good sign.
“Ah crap,” Normal groaned, finally really looking over his golden boy. He started to whistle through his teeth, as he did when he felt like control over any given situation was slipping away, the sound accompanied by a shooing gesture. “Go, go now.”
“Huh?” Alec was startled as suddenly he went from being the champ in Normal's eyes to being persona non grata.
“Company policy, don't come in sick to work,” Normal barked out. “Go see the doctor, get a note, but get out of here. I really don't want strep going around.” With that, he ducked underneath his counter, drawing out his trusty and reliable friend, a can of industrial strength germ and bacteria killer and began spraying it on every conceivable surface. The mist of aerosol fueled scent tickled at Alec's nose and he barked out a harsh cough that took him by surprise.
“Jeeze Normal, I don't have strep,” Alec groaned, having to stop and think a moment on what strep referred to, finding the answer quickly. “I mean, I never, well, almost never get sick.”
“Any pain or stiffness in your neck?” Normal demanded as he continued spraying a miasma in the air between them. Holding the can like it was a shield. Which in a way it could have been.
“No, just a sore throat and that crap isn't helping!” Alec snapped. He pinched his nose again and then shook his head. He'd just felt something drip onto his upper lip and there was no way in hell that he was going to check what it was. Something soft hit his chest and Alec's hand came up automatically to catch it. He glanced down, thankful to see a ratty package of tissues. Feeling the drip from his nose speed up, he hastily fumbled to get one of the paper thin receptacles out of the plastic wrap.
“It's not for your benefit,” Normal explained with much more patience than he normally evinced in a situation like this. Well, still some perks for the golden boy. “And no, you probably just caught that really nasty cold that's going around. But I want you to make sure. If it were strep, you would be out of work for at least two weeks recuperating, instead of just a few days with a cold.”
“Two weeks,” Alec grumbled. Right now he'd kill for just two hours of silence and sleep. Sleep sounded so deliciously good right now. Too bad he couldn't contract strep. Or well, if he did, the natural immunities that Manticore had cooked up in his body would take care of it immediately. He really could use a vacation.
“Seriously Alec, go before you get someone else sick,” Normal directed and Alec knew he had to be serious. Normal never ever addressed his employees by their given names. Alec, knowing well, a losing argument before he got into it, turned and stumbled his way out of the Jam Pony building, completely forgetting his bike. “Take good care of yourself champ,” he heard Normal call after him. “Don't need to get any more run down than you already are.”
As Alec determinedly trudged home to the crappy little apartment that he had commandeered after Brian or Brain or whatever the hell his name was, died, he thought about Normals' words. Normally, as he knew transgenics did not get sick with regular illnesses. Their immune systems were too good. All those extra white blood cells and pleuripotents swimming around were hyperactive in their zeal to destroy germs and bacteria. So why now did he have a cold? Was it that his immune system was failing in some sort of way? Or maybe it was something else. Things were different out here than they were in Manticore. In Manticore, he had a roof over his head, a bed, three squares a day, and those damnable vitamins.
Alec groaned then, though it was partly from the realization he had made, but mostly because his nose was running again, and in probably the most unattractive fashion he could think of. He fumbled again for the tissues he had taken with him, thinking about how maybe his current lifestyle, while enjoyable beyond extreme, wasn't exactly conducive for staying healthy. And not in a, he was gonna get a cap in his ass one of these days, way. More like, he shouldn't have been rationing his meals to one per day so that he could use the cash for other things and maybe vegetables weren't the food of the devil and maybe he should dedicate a few nights to getting in a full eight hours instead of crawling the bars and various women's beds.
“What the hell Alec?” screeched an all too familiar voice. He glanced up to see that his aimless walking had landed him right in the middle of the street, right in front of Max and Cindy, returning together from a run. Well, his walk wasn't precisely aimless. His brain had registered that he needed to cross the street to actually get to his apartment building, rather than just glide through where he could, as he would have if he'd been on his bike.
“Let me guess,” Max continued on as she and Cindy settled their feet, straddling their own bikes as they regarded him. “Normal finally copped to the real about your sneaky ass and all your scams and canned you like you deserve?” He would have taken offense, but at the moment, his head was pounding too hard.
“I hab a cold,” he growled quietly. Jeeze, even his own voice was too harsh and his throat was still hurting.
“What was that?” Max demanded, leaning closer. He scowled heavily at her. Trust her bitchiness to be getting a kick out of this.
“I said,” he raised his voice, just to get her to shut her mouth and wipe that disgusting smirk off her face, “I hab a cold!” To his surprise, Max chuckled and Cindy immediately flinched back, her sleeve coming up to cover her face.
“Watch it baby boo,” Cindy's muffled warning sounded immediately. “Dis girl can't afford to get sick, aiight? Got rent to pay.”
“It was kinda obvious Alec,” Max grinned and Alec wondered what the hell was so amusing about this situation. Apparently she must have recognized the scowl he wore. She probably saw it every day in the mirror. “You uh, got some snot,” she informed him and his eyes widened horrifically. She made a small gesture at the side of her mouth. “Right there.”
Alec's hands groped frantically for the tissue and was furiously rubbing his face with it when the sound of her laughter floated back to him. He glanced after her pedaling form, OC hot on her tail and... well his head hurt too much and he was too damn tired to even think about revenge right now.
Several hours later, Alec was sure that he was in hell. Everything he had done in Manticore and since had finally caught up with him and he was in hell.
His throat felt like someone had shoved flaming pokers down it, his nose was running constantly, first one nostril and then the other. His head felt like it had swollen two sizes bigger than normal and his temples were throbbing. And no matter which way he sat or laid down or moved, everything ached. He couldn't sleep and he was sweating and then cold and then sweating again. There was nothing on television that could distract him. There was no one there to complain to.
That was the last one that really chafed on his nerves. Normally, if something huge was going down, Alec sucked it up like the soldier he had been bred to be. But that was because he let go of all the little things. And his manner of doing so was the quick quip and the insightful jibe. But with no one there to vent on or unload on or even make fun of to distract himself from the occasional crappiness of his own existence, he was one miserable little puppy.
And that was how he ended up at The Crash, wearing, of all things, a sweat shirt, cargo pants and loose sneakers. He had sidled up as best he could to the bar and ordered a Scotch, hoping that the sting of alcohol would help numb the headache he'd been unable to shake. Mishka, the new bartender hinted extremely heavily that he wasn't quite welcome there at the bar, after he'd let out an explosive sneeze. Alec had stared at the girl that flirted nonstop with him on every previous occasion he'd been in when she was on her shift, dumbfounded. Her grumbled comment about having just washed all those glasses was quickly understood.
She poured Alec a generous dollop of Scotch and he spun around on his stool, realizing quickly what a mistake that was as his stomach protested and his head whirled. He was able to steady himself after a moment, focusing on Sketchy who was staring morosely down at the pool table, leaning on his pool cue. He must have just lost. Alec grinned. Maybe he had just found a nice way to distract himself from this friggin' nightmare. It was just a cold. He was the ass kicker, not a bunch of microscopic germs. Besides, humans got colds all the time, they were over it in a few days. Alec would probably be over it in a few more hours, he just had to hang on and distract himself a little longer, he assured himself as he weaved after Sketchy.
What he didn't realize was that all the weaving was his and not the layout of the tables. Sketch had tossed down his pool cue and made his way back to the table full of messenger coworkers, including Cindy. He was currently filling up his glass with another healthy shot of cheap beer when Alec plunked himself, a little more unsteadily than he would have liked, into the last empty chair.
“Hey guys,” he greeted cheerfully enough given that this was the closest he'd come to dying without a bullet or explosive somewhere in the mix, in a very long time.
“Alec? Man? What are you doin' here?” Sketch was leaning back in his chair and Alec had the obviously absurd notion that Sketch was actually trying to avoid him.
“What do you mean what am I doing here?” Alec demanded. “I'm habing a drink. That's what you do at a bar. What I do.”
“Yeah boo, we got dat,” OC muttered, also leaning back in her seat. In fact, everyone at the table was leaning away from him, almost like he was terminally catching or something. Alec did not like it one bit. “Question is, why you out and about when yo' ass should be at home, in bed.”
“I always knew you were harboring fantasies of me in bed OC,” he leered her way. And then blinked owlishly. Where had that come from? Sure, it was something he thought of on very rare occasions, but he'd never been that, that... ham-handed in delivering a line, had he? By her very loud scoff, he must have been way off his game. Damn it! He hated this cold.
“As if,” she sighed.
“So where's Maxie at?” he demanded, knowing that she was usually at the Crash, if she wasn't otherwise occupied in demanding that he accompany her on some foolish Eyes Only mission. “Off playing pattycake with her not like that boyfriend?”
“She busy,” OC's words were short and harsh and obviously signaled an end to that inquiry. “Alec, you need to go home and quit spreadin' da germs.”
“Sheesh,” Alec whined suddenly, feeling as if the entire world had suddenly turned against him. “It's boring there. I was lonely,” he admitted, glancing at OC out of the corner of his eye. But it did no good. The girl had a heart as hard as diamonds.
“Too bad,” OC shrugged. “Look Alec, nobody like bein' sick, but we all gotta jus' tough it out. I know you know how ta do dat.”
“I know” Alec sighed. “Doesn't mean I hab to like it.”
Sketch chose that moment to chuckle. “Man, you're slurring. Never thought I'da see the day.”
“Is cause my nose is stubbed up,” Alec growled at his supposed friend. “What's your excuse?”
“We know honey,” Cindy soothed without really soothing. “Look Alec, cold germs travel fast and none of us can afford to take time off now and Normal a freak about germs in da work place.”
“I know,” Alec groaned again. “He kicked me out the second I sneezed.” Cindy nodded in understanding.
“Tell ya what,” Cindy then offered. “You go home and I stop by tomorrow to check on ya. Jes' try and sleep some baby boo.”
Alec looked around at everyone sitting at the table, noting their hopeful miens. Wow, he had never known that ordinaries were so fearful of little cold germs. But apparently they were. Of course, having experienced firsthand for himself, he could see why they made a fuss. Picking up his tumbler of Scotch, he gave her cajoling serious thought. Everyone knew he was sick, no one wanted to be around him. Which meant that hanging with people to help counteract the boredom was out the window. He sighed and tossed the rest of the Scotch down his already abused throat.
“See ya toborrow,” he muttered to Cindy as he stood from his seat to a chorus of relieved sighs.
On the trudging walk home, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets and shoulders hunched, Alec was miserably thinking on fair weather friends. One little cold and everyone he thought he could at least marginally count as a buddy had turned on him. And Max. She hadn't been there at all, but her behavior earlier in the day gave him every clue as to what she would have been like tonight. Hostile, taunting, making him even more miserable than he already was.
Completely down in the dumps, he arrived home from the bar at the shocking and unheard of hour of nine. He had only enough energy to shut and lock the door, remove his coat and collapse on his dilapidated sofa. Twenty minutes and he succumbed to the raging pounding in his head with the time honored tradition of a fitful sleep.
A soft thunking noise woke him. At first he wasn't sure what had woken him, but something had and he could only concentrate on the pounding that most definitely had taken up permanent residence in his brain. But then the sound came again and Alec groaned internally. Someone had broken in, he glanced at the digital readout of his VCR, at just after one in the morning and he was so not up to fighting off a burglar or worse. But then, a new sound came and it took a moment for Alec to place. Tinkling. Like glass bumping into something. He turned his head and was able to make out a dark form in his kitchen, rifling through his cupboards.
Just as he was about to demand who it was standing in his kitchen, the sneeze that had building for who knew how long, exploded out of his mouth and nose. And was promptly followed by three more.
“Alec? You up?” the voice was soft, concerned and most surprisingly of all, came from Max.
“Max?”
“Yeah, how're you doing?”
“I hab a cold,” he reiterated grumpily, wondering what the hell she was doing in his apartment in the middle of the night, rifling through his cupboards and there was no way in hell he was joining her for another round of EO mission morphing into a round of kick the Alec.
“I know,” she said simply and Alec could just hear the smile in her words. Stupid bitch, he groaned to himself. She was probably getting off on his being miserable. “Hang on.”
Hang on to what? Alec wondered with more than a touch of annoyance. And then it was that he noticed that someone, most likely Max had spread an afghan over him. And removed his shoes, if what his wriggling toes were telling him was correct. Max turned away and busied herself some more in the kitchen.
She came to his side, pushing away all of the discarded tissues and books that were piled haphazardly on his make shift coffee table. She was holding a mug in one hand, a grocery bag in the other. She set the grocery bag down beside her. But the cup she kept.
“Hungry?” she asked. Alec wanted to shake his head, but he knew that the pounding would just get worse if he did. But speaking wasn't that great either.
“No,” he whispered. And it was true, sort of. He was mildly hungry, but he just did not have the energy to get up and forage through his essentially bare cupboards and refrigerator.
“Well at least try and drink the broth,” Max directed, holding the mug out to him. She glanced down at the bag and began to rummage through it. Alec was surprised when she brought out a pack of straws, the kind with the one end that was bendy. He eyed her suspiciously.
“You brought me soup?” he asked, wondering if she had poisoned it.
“Uh huh,” Max nodded curtly. He hadn't taken the soup from her so she set it down on the coffee table while she opened the package of straws and chose one for him. “I know you don't feel like it, but chicken noodle soup is supposed to be like penicillin to colds. At least that's what Cindy said.”
“She did?” Alec frowned, trying to remember when OC had said such a thing. He was so distracted that he didn't even protest when she stuck the straw into his mouth.
“Careful, it's hot,” she warned just in time and Alec took in the heated, salty taste of chicken broth. It flowed over his tongue and down his throat, coating and warming and bringing a marvelous, if temporary relief with it, to the scratchiness. And then it hit his fairly empty stomach, warming him from the inside out. It was... almost like magic. It was the first thing that felt good in what seemed like forever and Alec hurriedly took another sip.
“Here, can you sit up?” Max asked and there was something in her tone that Alec couldn't identify. It was softer than normal. Alec put it in the back of his mind, trying to concentrate on what she was asking, instead of how.
“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Alec groaned. He prepared to shift himself. He could just barely smell the chicken and the scent of something else floating amidst the broth. And the first and second taste had miraculously brought his appetite to the fore, especially since he didn't have to get it himself. But he'd be damned if he was going to lay on the couch like some child to be fretted over. He was stronger than that.
He let Max take the cup away from him so he didn't knock it over and pushed and scooted and squirmed until he was semi upright. As soon as he was, Max handed the cup to him again. He took a long sip this time, sighing in relief as it worked that tiny magic on his throat again. And now that he was upright, he could see the cup and it's contents in the dim light. As he had thought, there were more than just broth and noodles. It looked like the real deal and he wondered where Max had found it. There were orange bits that his mind identified as diced carrots and white bits that he wasn't sure if they were onion or not. There was translucent vegetation there, which could have been the onion. He took another taste and realized that he had been missing the garlic.
“So,” he started quietly, avoiding the intense stare she was leveling at him, “aside from bringing me soup, what are you doing here?”
“Just that,” Max shrugged delicately, leaning back on one hand on his coffee table. She gestured to the bag at her side. “Figured you could use a care package.”
“Gee Maxie,” Alec grinned, “that would have to imply that you care.”
The snort wasn't as emphatic as it usually was. “Please Alec, savin' your ass is a full time job, from bullets to gang-bangers, may as well keep it up. I figure some day, maybe you'll learn and then I could count on you to return the favor. I'm just not holdin' my breath yet.”
“Savin' my ass?” Alec scoffed incredulously and then paid for it by way of a rasping cough rumbling out of his chest that undid all the good the soup had just done in a matter of seconds.
“I know,” Max chuckled and Alec glared at her. Just like he'd thought. She was just here to get her kicks in while she could. While he wasn't at his best and more than capable of trading sallys with her. “It's a cold, not life or death, but I remember the first time I caught a cold. Felt like I was gonna die.”
“How'd you know it's my first cold?” Alec demanded suspiciously. What? Had Logan busted loose all their med files from Manticore and Max had forgotten to mention it.
“Cause you're acting like a huge baby,” Max pointed out equanimically. “And Cindy was worried that it might be something worse, since she knows how much it takes to knock us on our asses.”
“Cindy was worried?” Alec was startled, since not that long ago, she was doing everything she could to get him away from the non sick portion of their little world.
“Yup,” Max nodded, like it should be no big surprise. “And I thought about it and you haven't been sick at all since you got out and it is the rainy, well rainier season now. Plus Normal was going on about this nasty ass cold that's been making it's way around. And then, what I found in your kitchen just confirmed it.”
“What's in my kitchen?” Alec demanded, suddenly worried. Perhaps this wasn't germs, perhaps it was some insidious mold bacteria that he hadn't even thought to check on when he'd moved in.
“Pretty much nothing,” Max shrugged one shoulder, like it was completely what she expected. But then she leaned forward, all predatory with a knowing, almost feral grin on her face. “You've been rationing your food, haven't you?”
He was almost embarrassed that she had caught that. It wasn't anything that should be a big deal. And he said so. “S'not a big deal. I can go without food for days.”
“When you're healthy, yeah,” Max agreed with alacrity. “But jeeze Alec, you went from three squares a day to junk food overnight, didn't you? And it all tasted good. But now, this is the price you pay.”
“Learn that the hard way, didja?” he sneered and then buried his face in the cup of soup. Who the hell did she think she was to be lecturing him? Oh right, the great Maxie Guevara, savior of the world, or at least the part she claimed as hers. Never mind the tiny glow in the back of his brain that noted that this meant that she had in some way claimed him as well.
“Yeah, I did,” she admitted immediately, which caught Alec off guard. “Caught my first cold about nine months after we escaped. Was moving from town to town, trying to stay under the radar and bam, I'm flat on my back, sick as a dog and didn't know why or from what. Some old lady hadn't found me... Let's just say, I learned my lesson.”
“What lesson?” Alec demanded, surprised and intrigued by this slice of her early life.
“If you're only gonna eat once a day, make it count, sleep when you need to, and colds don't last forever, even if it feels like it,” she supplied promptly, ticking things off on her fingers.
“Huh,” Alec grunted, curling his fingers around the nearly empty mug. He was amazed to realize that it was nearly all gone and then, mournful. It had really hit the spot. “Is that why you're over at Logan's all the time?” He wanted to bite his tongue then. There was nothing that riled her up faster than mentioning Logan in any way, shape or form.
“Hey, whatever problems we have, at least he always goes out of his way to feed me,” Max defended her not like that boyfriend. “And feed me well.”
“Is that the way to a transgenic's heart then?” Alec chuckled, though it was a little unsure sounding.
“That's why you were loyal to Manticore for so long, isn't it?” Max countered, though that soft, odd tone was there again. “Three squares a day?”
“I guess,” Alec mumbled, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.
“But I went one or two better than them,” Max chuckled, as if immediately sensing his unease and carefully edging things toward a brighter thought. She gestured to the bag. “Creature comforts for ya.” She picked up the bag and moved it to his lap. And then she stood, straightening the legs of her jeans. “Be right back.” She snagged the cup out of his hands and moved back towards the kitchen. Alec watched her for a moment, realizing that she was refilling his cup from a pot on the stove. He didn't recognize it, since he didn't use his kitchen for cooking and wondered if she had brought along a spare that she and Cindy had. That was probably it. And then he turned his attention back to the plastic bag in his lap.
He opened it up and stared at the jumble of items inside. With his head down though, the damnable nose running had started, though it seemed as if running was more of a dribble at this point. He grabbed for a small box of tissues and quickly ripped into it. Stemming the flow for the moment, he began removing the rest of the items. Several boxes of tissue went to the coffee table, a small jar of something called vapor rub joined them, and then two boxes of cold/ headache relief tablets. He saw those and a kind of suspended relief filled him. There were pills he could take. He glanced up when Max pushed the tissue and jar aside, carrying the mug again, this time with a spoon.
“Those pills won't do much for the cold itself,” she instructed him, “but they can help with the headache.”
“Anything for some relief,” Alec grumbled, as Max took the box from his hands and gave him the soup. Taking another sip, he watched as she expertly tore open the end flap and removed the tinfoil encased pills.
“Just two every four hours,” she informed him even as she was releasing the tablets and then dropping them into his free hand. “ And here.” She turned to her side and picked up a washcloth that again, Alec had to wonder where the hell it had come from. “Wash your face off.”
He was too tired to argue with her, so he downed the pills with ease and then took the cloth. He was startled to find that it was warm, that she had heated it somehow and running it over his face actually felt heavenly, if heaven was warm and comforting and refreshing. And then he was about to set the cloth down, but changed his mind and ran it over the back of his neck as well. When he did set it down, he saw that Max had picked up the jar from beside her and unscrewed the lid.
“What's that?” he asked suspiciously as she held it out to him.
“Take a whiff and you'll figure it out,” she smirked at him.
“I can't smell anything Max,” he reminded her irritably, feeling like there was some sort of game going on, one that he didn't know the rules to. “Cold, remember?”
“Rub some under your nose then,” Max stretched a little further, shoving the damn jar in his face. “Seriously Alec, it won't kill you. You'll like it.”
He eyed her for a long moment and then cautiously dipped his finger into the slick gel. It seemed like nothing more than petroleum jelly. But when he carefully brought it to his nose for an experimental whiff, he was caught off guard. He definitely smelled that.
“Menthol and eucalyptus,” Max explained succinctly. “Helps open up the nasal passageway. They also,” she turned the jar in her hand to read something on the label, “recommend it on your throat, chest and back to bring relief for chest colds.”
Alec, suddenly an interested believer, was busy rubbing it under his nose and after two small inhalations, found that she wasn't lying. The damn stuff worked. “There are different kinds of colds?”
“Colds are all different Alec,” Max grinned as she held the jar for him to dig some more out and apply to his throat. “They mutate with every person they go through.”
Oh, right. Alec vaguely remembered learning something about germs like that.
“That's why they haven't found a cure for it, why they call it common,” Max went on. “But yeah, there are sinus colds, chest colds, colds that settle in your throat, winter colds, summer colds. Basically colds for 24/7, 365 days a year.”
“Shit,” Alec groaned at that bit of information. He was miserable right now. He wasn't much looking forward to ever being this way again.
“Don't worry,” Max shook her head. “You only feel really crappy the first day or so and then it should ease off a bit to where you can function. And if you keep your health up, it's doubtful you'll catch another.”
Alec, recognizing that when it came to this subject, it was futile to argue with her, simply began applying the blessed rub to his chest.
“Do you want a clean shirt?” Max asked, making his eyes widen. “You look like you've gone a few rounds in the ring with a heavyweight champion.” Oh, the sweating.
“Nah,” he decided. “May as well keep all the gunk confined to one shirt. Less laundry to do that way.”
“All right,” Max conceded. “Do you want me to get your back?”
Well, shit, this night just kept getting more surreal. Alec covered his surprise with a quick gulp of the now cooling soup. “Yeah, if you could,” he was surprised that his voice was as steady as it was.
Max waited for him to lean forward and with quick, straightforward motions, had edge his shirt up and bunched it up over his shoulders as best as she could. A quick dip of her fingers into the rub and then warmth spread over his back. He couldn't help the shiver that ran through his frame.
“Sorry,” he apologized immediately, praying that she wouldn't get the wrong idea about his reaction, since really, having the pleasure of her hands on him was the furthest thing from his mind. “Just feels good. I mean, not like-!”
“It's okay Alec,” Max giggled softly. “I get it. Sore muscles, also part of the package.” She fell quiet as did he until she was done. She pulled her hand away and then smoothed his shirt down and moved back, capping the jar and then using the washcloth to wipe her hands off. “Here, you might wanna wipe your fingers off too.” At his querying look, she tilted her head to the side. “Menthol in the eyes is not fun.”
Alec answered her smirk with a grin of his own. Maybe those tablets were starting to kick in. He was starting to feel honestly groggy now.
He did as she directed though because he could just imagine how bad the sting in his eyes would be.
“Here,” Max moved slightly and started rearranging the afghan that had fallen down when Alec had sat up, that was bunched around him now. “Why don't you try and get some more sleep. And then when you wake up, we'll see how you're feeling.”
Alec could agree to that, but for one thing that was bothering him. “Max, why are you really here, bein' so nice to me?” It wasn't like she really cared. She was just used to taking care of everybody. He'd finally recognized the tone she had used earlier. It was the same one that she used to calm down Joshua if he was mildly upset about something. And for some reason that made his brain hurt even more than it already did, he didn't want to be just another pet trannie to her.
Max paused in straightening out the blanket and glanced up at him. “It's what I do, I guess.”
“I guess,” Alec agreed, slightly mournful of that fact and that there was nothing else forthcoming. Once she had finished arranging his cover to her satisfaction, she turned and began gathering up the used tissues that littered the coffee table. “Hey, you don't have to do that,” he protested softly.
“It's okay,” Max muttered while she worked. “It'll keep me from getting into the magazine stash I brought.”
“You brought me magazines?” Alec could hear the tired slur affecting his words now. Those pills must have kicked in.
Max shrugged. “You or me, help stave off the boredom.”
“Wish you'da come earlier then,” Alec half-whined, remembering how nothing had been able to capture his attention from the pounding in his temples.
“Yeah well, sorry about that,” Max sighed, her back still to him. “Took me a while to run around town and pick this all up. And then I...”
He waited but whatever it was didn't seem to be easily forthcoming. “You what Max?” he prompted gently, really puzzled as to what seemed to be making her clam up.
She heaved another sigh and turned around, surprising him with the self mocking grin on her face. “All right, I burned the chicken.”
“You... burned the chicken?”
“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that you boil the chicken to make the stock,” she protested, throwing her free hand up in the air. The one that wasn't encumbered with a wad of crumpled tissues. “I mean, I thought they meant the bouillon stuff that Logan always uses to flavor his sauces or something. And the soup is supposed to have cooked chicken in it, right? So I had to kinda, improvise.” She stared down at his astonished gaze. “I scraped all the burned stuff off and then cut it up really small so it would seem like there was as much as there shoulda been. It is okay, isn't it?”
The pensive, lip biting, innocent worry that plagued her face took Alec by storm. She had not bought the soup. She hadn't just run out and bought him a few cans. She had hunted, gathered, prepared and walked over with the soup for him. Because really, Alec couldn't see her strapping it to the back of her bike and adopting a c'est la vie attitude to messin' up her baby. And all for what? Just to make him feel a little better, a little more comfortable for a few hours. All of his earlier worries and concerns and snide internal commentary on how she didn't care was just shot all to hell.
She cared.
She might not ever show it in the conventional manners that the rest of the world used, but this was huge. She had done this, a little thing really. Making soup for a friend. But it was the only thing that anyone in his life had done for him, aside from shooing him off and making him endure this misery on his own.
And just as suddenly as it came, the light and warmth and glow that was suffusing him, was gone. Escaped with the sneeze that echoed in the quiet room. The pounding still wasn't gone, his nose was running again and the afghan was heavy on his chest. But the one huge difference was still there. He was no longer alone in this. And he would never again forget that fact.
