| "Dinner" Elianna Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Please don't sue because all you'll get is my '85 Honda Accord. I refuse to part with my computer. Summary: Max refuses Logan's dinner invitation. What's he gonna do about it? Spoilers/Timeframe: none Rating: PG A/N: The story takes place BEFORE "Meow" so it doesn't take into account the events that occured in that episode. However, I believe that this story explains why Logan reacted the way he did when Max cancelled their dinner. (I don't think that this is my best work, so if it isn't, tell me. But say something if its good too, k?) :) ***** She's looking out the window as usual. Her arms crossed nonchalantly over her chest. She just finished telling me something, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. I look back at my computer screen, pretending to do something. I lick my lips before I summon up the courage to talk. "You busy tonight?" I start. She turns and looks at me. I don't need to look at her. I can see her reflexion in the screen. I try not to sound too desperate. I swallow and continue. "Cuz I got my hands on some chicken and its got your name on it." The words spill out too quickly. Dammit! I don't want her to say no. She starts to walk towards the hall. And I know even before she mutters one of her lame excuses that my offer has been rejected. Again. I sigh as I hear the door close. Whether it be work, Manticore, friends, or even the police. She seems to have a reason not to spend more time than nessessary with me. She's not scared of me is she? I laugh out loud at that thought. HER, afraid of ME? Its just ridiculous! God knows I'm terrified of her. Not because she's a killer. No. I'm over that. She's just so sure of herself all the time. How can I compete with genetically engineered perfection? I can't. And she knows it. She used to stay. What was so different then? "You know the answer to that, Logan." My conscience whispers. You're right. I do. "What are you going to do about it?" The same thing I've been doing for the past few months. Pretend. Pretend it's nothing. Because it is. Nothing. I sense that my conscience has given up. Once again. Thank God. I pause, considering my last thought. What the hell are you talking about? It's not your conscience that gives up! It's you! It's always been you. You know you like her. Geez, you've wanted her since the day she first broke into your apartment. What warm-blooded male wouldn't? Those doe-like brow eyes...supple lips... her perfectly shaped body... I smile at the image forming in my head. In my mind, my dream-Max turns around and grins at me. She starts to walk towards me, slowly. Next thing I know she's on my lap. She leans into me and I feel her lower lip brush mine... STOP! I shake my head in an attempt to clear it. It's just wishful thinking. It probably won't come true. My dream-Max pouts and I smile. But then again, that doesn't mean I can't try. She did kiss you once, didn't she? She wouldn't have done it if she didn't feel SOMETHING. What have you got to loose, really? Your dignity is all but nonexistant. I roll back over to the window to think. It's almost been one year since you first met. Invite her over for an anniversary dinner. She can't refuse. And If she does? I scratch my beard. If she does, I guess I'll just let it go. No use wasting energy on a hopeless cause. I feel satisfied with my decision. Until my conscience decides to remind me, "Especially if that hopeless cause is you." I rub my face, sigh and return to my work. The End |
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