U is for Unit

He does this thing where he cocks his head to the side and he looks right at you. And you wonder, is he looking at me, or is he looking into me? Some days, when there’s a little darkness in his eyes, you wonder if he even sees you at all.

 

But what does she care? It’s not like he’s a part of her unit. In fact, he’ll never be a part of her unit.

 

…So why the hell does she feel so damn guilty?

 

Maybe guilt was a little bit too strong of a word. Max just knew that she felt… something… which may or may not have had something to do with the fact that she may have kind of left him there in the dirt and filth of that back alleyway as she and Zack (who he’d totally been right about, but whatever, she wasn’t telling him that) had wandered off.

 

Maybe it’s because, lately, when Alec looked at her, she actually looked back.

 

Max can remember a time when she didn’t look back. When she couldn’t look back, because she couldn’t see past his surface; Ben’s surface. At least not before the guilt and horror started welling, started crawling into her hands, reminding her what it feels like as somebody’s neck snaps beneath your fingertips. She couldn’t stand it, so usually she’d catch his probing gaze for just a heartbeat before looking away from his always intent stare. Or maybe she’d let her eyes just glance across his familiar features before staring a little bit to the left of him, at some point just over his shoulder. Maybe she’d pretend disinterest in his words, for the sole purpose of not having to face him. It used to be that the only time Max ever really looked at Alec was when she was angry at him, because when she was mad, she could hardly equate him to the psychotic man that she’d put down; the man that, at some point a very, very long time ago, had been gentle, a boy that she had loved better than all the others. After Zack had left, though, that had all changed. After she’d lost another member of her unit, after she’d willingly sent him away, that’s when she’d really started looking back.

 

Maybe she should be glad Alec wasn’t part of her unit. Maybe that meant he was safe from her and her poison.

 

Today, though… Today, Max didn’t bother. Didn’t look into glowing green mirrors, because she knew what she’d see; same as yesterday, and the day before that. It’d been the same since Zack, since she’d left him there in the dust and squalor of that alleyway. She’d first seen it in Crash, when he tried to warn her of her brother’s infatuation, and she’d blown it off because she had better things to not worry about. In retrospect, that might have made it all worse. Zack was gone, and one week later, Alec’s eyes were still drowning and Max couldn’t look or she’d drown too.

 

Weariness. Exasperation. A hint of hysterical laughter, at himself and his own perceived unimportance, and at her and her inflated sense of self, and again at himself because he can’t decide who disgusts him more. Anger, because he’s sick of her and he’s sick of Seattle but he’s still fucking here, and loss, because he doesn’t know where else to go or if he even wants to.  

 

Max doesn’t doubt that one day she’ll show up to work and he’ll be gone. Good riddance, she’ll say to herself, and probably to Cindy, and definitely to Logan. Logan will probably agree, even if he will look at her a little too knowingly. Cindy will purse her lips and nod, after a moment or so… And maybe they might both suspect, but the only person that will really know what a liar she is herself… because she’s not ready for him to go, not really.

 

Sure she’ll scowl and frown and tell him he’s worthless and better off gone, but she doesn’t want him to leave, at least not forever. He’s her last link to Ben, even if he’s only a face, and she can’t stand the thought that Ben’s face might be out there somewhere, getting itself shot at it. Can’t abide the notion that hazel eyes might close once more and it will be all her fault.

 

Sometimes, she wonders if it’s more than that. If she’s used to him for the sake of him. If she’s grown accustomed to his face, as weird as that sounds, not because he looks like Ben, but because he’s himself and he’s part of her life now and those thoughts were so completely ridiculous, Max refused to think them whenever they cropped up. Even if part of her did liken him to a mangy mutt, figuratively speaking; the type that followed you home and maybe he smelled and maybe you didn’t much like him at first, but you had this responsibility to care for him and then he started to grow on you and then suddenly you were buying a leash and a collar cuz you were afraid one day he might wander off and your life wouldn’t be the same without him. It was a good analogy, ‘cuz Max didn’t much care for dogs, either.

 

Wait… What had she been thinking about? Oh, right, Alec. In the depths of her heart, Max no longer wanted Alec gone. Maybe for a few hours, here and there, but nothing permanent.  

 

Even if he wasn’t part of her unit.

 

So today, when he cocked his head to the side and looked at her, and today there’s loathing there too so it won’t be much longer before he leaves, she still looks away, but only because she’s looking down. At his neck. At five oval circles, barely bruises anymore, hardly visible really, that circle his throat.

 

“Almost all healed up,” She leaned into the lockers and he won’t concede, won’t lean away, or even act like her presence affects him. Just stands there, she put herself too close to him, and he is as steady and unmoving as stone. After a moment, it was her that started to get uncomfortable.

 

“Almost gone,” He nodded back, and when she glanced up his eyes were harder than a rock wall. He’s shut down all those drowning thoughts, hiding himself away from her. Almost gone seems to hold a hint of something more; like maybe he was almost ready to be done with Seattle and away from her.

 

Panic can make us say some strange things.

 

“Coming to Crash tonight?”

 

 Weariness will make it so that we don’t play along.

 

“What do you want, Max?”

 

To apologize.

 

“To find out what the hell is wrong with you,” She scowled instead, her arms folding stubbornly across her chest.

 

He smiled at her snapped reply and he answered her lie with another. “Me? Nothing’s wrong with me.” He leaned in, a small, innocent movement that seemed unplanned, but they both knew wasn’t. They both knew his closeness was what was making her antsy, making her squirm. They both knew she’d never admit it. His smile turned into something soft and amused, his eyes lighting, momentarily, as he took in the stubborn set of her jaw. “Maybe there’s something wrong with you. Something eating you, Max?”

 

Yes.

 

She looked away, because her eyes were giving her away; she’s not as good at the Manticore mask as he is. She can shut down her face, but not her eyes. He’s had more practice. And he can see right through her.

 

But he doesn’t care, or at least that’s what he tries to tell himself. Something wrong in poor Maxerella’s life? Not his problem. If he wasn’t worth her time, why the hell should he give a damn about her?

 

When Max looked back, he’d straightened, and all his softness was gone. His eyes were so hard they could have cut diamonds. In true Alec form, his voice remained playful as he asked, “Logan not singing your praises lately?” He affected a look of knowing horror. “Oh, I know, somewhere there’s a kitten up a tree and your whole world is in turmoil until you can rescue it. Am I right?”

 

“No, but you are an asshole.” Max straightened from her lean with a scowl, her arms falling back to her sides, her fists clenching, and a very large part of her wondered why the hell she bothered. But she pressed on anyway and just came out and demanded it. “Is this about the whole ‘unit’ thing?”

 

Any other man might react; maybe stiffen, glance away, or maybe fall motionless. Alec is still smirking as he asks, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Is that what’s eating you?” She demanded again. “Are you all pissed because I told Zack that you’re not part of our unit?”

 

The smile fell. Only Alec was left. He seemed genuinely surprised as he asked, “Why would I be mad about that? It’s the truth; I’m not part of your unit.” That could have been it, but he swept past her and its like time slows down and somehow, just for a moment, his lips are by her ear and his soft words are silky and caressing. “I didn’t run.”

 

It’s funny how he can make such a small little word in such seductive tones sound so dirty and demeaning, so backed with the pointed force of a thousand venomous tongues, ringing with the echoing might of something that sounds a lot like payback.

 

And then he’s gone. Walking through Jam Pony, whistling, waving goodbye to Sketchy. If Max’s mind wasn’t so completely blank, she might have likened him to a magician.

 

It wasn’t until about half a second later that she regained enough brain function to get angry.

 

She whirled around, ready to spew acid as he sauntered away, ready to demand he get his ass back here, now, but Cindy had sidled up and was eyeing his backside with undisguised distrust. Like maybe she thought his lips were too close to her boo’s ear or something. Max couldn’t correct her, couldn’t tell her that for the very first time in the two months that she’d known him, he’d actually sounded like… well, he’d sounded like them. Like all the other transgenics at Manticore, the ones that had hated her. He… he wasn’t supposed to sound like that. Max couldn’t say anything to Cindy because she was still battling her surprise, which was telling her to run after him and demand to know if he really meant it, and her anger, which was telling her to stomp after him and pop him in the face.

 

The middle of Jam Pony isn’t the best place to get into an aggressive, rage-fueled, confusion-filled, no-holds-barred transgenic fight, though, so she resolved to kick his ass later. And it wasn’t till later that she realized that she wasn't entirely sure where he lives right now; he’s still kind of transitory, skipping from one place to another. The one time she’d been willing to take him home, despite the fact he’d lost her damn baseball, they’d had to stop at a checkpoint because he hadn’t had a sector pass yet… So she knew that he was in sector three somewhere, she just wasn’t sure where. No way she’d ask Normal, but when she sucked it up and asked Sketchy, even he didn’t know where Alec was spending his nights. Maybe Alec was used to keeping his movements on the down low, or maybe he had just never really planned to stick around in the first place, but whatever it is, she’s not sure how she’s going to kick his ass when she can’t even find the damn thing.

 

Not that it matters, because later that night, he found her. And as if it wasn’t bad enough that she couldn’t track him, but he showed up, not only on her doorstep, but also inside her apartment, on her couch, and his hand was in her favorite box of cereal. From how deep he was digging, he’d apparently been spending the better portion of the evening depleting its contents.

 

“How’d you figure out where I live?” She scowled from the doorway, hoping maybe he’d wrangled it out of Normal.

 

He smiled and stuffed another handful of her cereal into his mouth. He’s taunting her and judging from the color rising in her cheeks, it’s working. The door swung shut and he set down the box. She shrugged out of her jacket and he stood, cracking his neck to the side.

 

“Cool it, tough guy,” She rolled her eyes, “I’m not going to fight you.”

For the first time, he actually looked a little surprised. “What?” After a moment, he added, at a loss. “Why not?”

 

Jeez. Did he want to fight? Maybe he wanted an excuse to leave. Maybe he just wanted to work out some aggression. Max did her best to conveniently forget that she'd been trying to find him earlier for the express purpose of hurting him, because something small in her, that small something that doesn’t want him gone, tells her to back off. She swiped her box of cereal, mostly empty, from her coffee table instead and peered into it, frowning. “Do you know how hard it is to get this stuff?” She grumped, annoyed.

 

He blinked, because he came here to fight, to find a reason, and now he’s not sure what to do with himself. Sometimes Alec seriously wonders if she’s bipolar; how can she switch from zero to bitch quite so quick? Something else in him shifts, darkens, as a snarling voice whispers that maybe he’s reached a level of unimportance in her life that even fighting him is not worth her precious time.

 

“What’s that look for?” She asked, her face twisting when his expression became dark and angry. He schooled it back to normal, and like ripples fading across a pond, after a moment it’s like his surface was never disturbed to begin with.

 

Outside, it’s started raining. Been trying to rain all day, he points out, like he came over here with the express purpose of being her own personal captain of the obvious.

 

“It’s Seattle,” She frowned. “It rains. Get used to it.”

 

“Went to Florida once,” He mused aloud. “It rained, but at least it was warm.”

 

“So go to Florida,” She shrugged, pretending nonchalance, because as much as she doesn’t want him to go, she can’t let him know that.  

 

He eyed her, and for a moment looked uncomfortable in his own skin. Like maybe he’s not sure why he’s here. “Maybe I will.”

 

It was a pointless conversation. Max was no more sure of his intentions of staying in Seattle than he was of leaving. And they were both left a little moody, unhappy, frowning at each other across a room.  

 

He was almost gone when he paused and glanced back. “I don’t care, you know.”

 

She opened her mouth to make some kind of smart ass comment, to pretend like she had no idea what he was talking about, when he added sardonically. “I haven’t had a unit since 2009, I could give a crap that I’m not part of yours.”

 

Liar, liar, pants on fire. It echoes like a forgotten dream from a long ago memory of two little girls, one playing in sunshine, the other hanging back, watching in kind of wonder.  She wants to hold the memory up to him, show him, see, you don’t have to be part of my unit for me to care about you… But the thought unnerved her, because not only does she not care for him, she doesn’t even particularly like him.

 

“2009?” She made a face instead.

 

“You do the math,” He challenged back, and then, suddenly, he was gone, leaving her standing alone in her living room, facing a closed door. And for the second time that day, Max got a hint that even though he’d never treated her the way the other transgenics had (It was a trick, her mind argues, it was all a ploy directed by Renfro, he’s always hated you, but she shoves the voice away because she doesn’t think it much matters when it comes to Alec; he’s always done things his own way, and he’s never hated her) that maybe, just maybe, she had screwed up his life long before he’d come around to ruin hers.

 

Max hates guilt. She’s only really come to know the damning emotion in the past year, but the now familiar taste of it is bitter in her mouth.

 

Whatever.

 

He’s not at work the next day and she almost freaks out, maybe she read him wrong, until she realizes that it’s his day off.

 

He’s not at work the day after that, either, and Max finally sucked it up and asked Normal where Alec spent his nights. Normal didn’t want to tell her, but he finally caved ‘cuz Golden Boy hadn’t been answering his cell, and Normal was a little worried about him in that odd, over-protective, mother-hen, hero-worshipping way of his.  

 

He was smack dab in the heart of sector three. There was a duffel just inside the door. It was half-full. Maybe it was half-empty. Had he been putting stuff in or taking stuff out? Max grabbed the blue bag by the handles, stalked into his bedroom, and tossed it on the bed.

 

“What the hell is this?”

 

“Max?” He sat up in bed, the sheets pooled around his hips, and her eyes flicked disdainfully over an expanse of skin that, over a year ago, before Ben, before Logan, she probably would have found impressive.

 

She cocked her head to the side, her expression both annoyed and indifferent all at once. He’s not entirely sure how she pulls it off. “Going somewhere, Pretty Boy?”

 

He snorted, flopped back down to his stomach and laid his head on his arms. Max added his broad shoulders and lean back to the things that she’s definitely not interested in.

 

“Really don’t think that’s any of your business,” He breathed into his arms, like he’s trying to force himself into relaxation, into sleep. She’d have believed his nonchalance more if she couldn’t see the muscles in the back that she’s not interested in tense.

 

Her voice was bright, deceptively so. “Well, it kinda is when I know that I’ll be getting a call from you in a couple of days, asking me to come bail your ass out of trouble.”

 

He’s out of bed and on his feet so quickly, a normal human’s eyes would have had trouble tracking his movement. Max’s eyes aren’t normal though; she sees more than a blur of movement. She sees strength gather in his muscles, ripple outwards. She sees his body twist, as sinuous as a cat’s. She sees him roll off the bed, land on his feet, and rise like a predator, all in the blink of an eye.

 

She doesn’t care, though, because she was busy telling herself that she wasn’t interested in his abs, either. Or the hint of hipbones, doing their best to keep sweatpants on lean hips. Or the darkness in his eyes, the hint of danger, that makes something in her thrill.

 

“Put some clothes on,” She heard herself snap.

 

The predatory anger melts away and all that was left on his face was exasperation. “Max, what the hell are you doing here?” 

 

“Normal practically forced me to come over and check on you,” She lied easily, cocking her head to the side. “You too good for work now?”

 

There’s that hint of disgust again, that hint of something that would one day turn to real hate unless she stopped it. “There’s only one person in this room that thinks they’re too good for anything, Max, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her face twisted.

 

“I think you know exactly what I mean, princess.”

 

Her disbelieving laugh is sharp and ready. “Oh, that’s it.” She shrugged out of her jacket and he couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing down, from taking in plain clothing that does little to hide the genetic perfection of her body. She tossed her hair and her fists came up  and his eyes snapped back to her face. “You’re gonna get it now.”

 

“Am I?” Alec replied in something that could have been mistaken for bored disinterest if it weren’t for his eyes. Alec’s eyes weren’t lying right now, they were sharp, interested, and staring right at her. Alec had always loved a challenge. “And who’s going to give it to me?”

 

Part of him wonders, right before he ducks out of the way of her quick fist, if she’s just trying to get his aggression out in the open, if she’s trying to turn him back into the bitch that will just take her shit.

 

 Alec is nobody’s bitch, least of all hers.

 

It’s his fist that makes the first connection, and he tells himself not to feel guilty when she slowly straightens and her hand comes up to wipe away blood from the corner of her lips. Do you think she ever feels guilty when she lays one on you, he hissed to his mind, but his mind was still busy feeling a bit like a sleaze-ball. Which is maybe how she got through his defenses and popped him a good one, right in the mouth.

 

“God, I fucking hate you.”

 

Max tenses, freezes, as the words come crashing out from his slightly hunched position. He doesn’t sound exasperated. He doesn’t sound broken, or tired. It sounds like a statement of fact; a fact that she doesn’t want to hear.

 

When her panicked eyes refocused, he was standing tall again, and the side of his mouth was slightly pink from the force of her blow. He was glaring at her, eyes narrow. “Everything, everyone, it's all just a game to you. Everything is just a toy.”

 

“That’s amazing,” she replied when she found her voice, “Cuz everything to you is a joke.”

 

He advanced on her. “Well, I’m not joking now. You think you can pick something up, play with it, and leave it in the dirt when you’re done? Got news for you, sister, you keep at it, and one day, it really will be only you and your sanctified unit, ‘cuz everyone else will have given up on you, and all your bullshit, and finally left.”

 

How many times had she heard those very same words, ringing in her own mind? Hearing them out loud… Something in her cringed, cried out, but what defense could she possibly have against the truth?

He was still advancing, but instead of getting right up on her tense, frozen position, he swept past her and made a grab for the duffel on the bed, widening the opening with every intention of grabbing more clothing to stuff in.

 
He can't wait to get out of here. He hates her. He hates how selfish she is. He hates how she can treat people like they're nothing with hardly even a thought. He hates how he doesn't really hate her. And he can't really hate her, because as selfish as she is, she's also noble. As uncaring and cruel as she can be, he doesn't know anyone that's as good as she is. He thinks that maybe he hates himself and his confusion the most.

And then she just had to go and fucking throw him for another loop. Her words were rushed, so much so that it takes them both a moment to realize that she said, “Please don’t go.”

 

Please don’t go? Please don’t go?! He turned on her. “What? Are you kidding?”

She looked away, ashamed that she had even said that much.

 

He was still staring at her in disbelief. “A person could go crazy trying to figure you out. You’ve made it pretty clear over the last couple of weeks that I could drop dead and you wouldn’t give a damn, and now you’re saying you don’t want me to leave?”  

 

“Forget it,” she muttered, embarrassed, and turned on her heel.

 

But he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back around, and his eyes were narrow and weighing as he did that thing where he cocked his head to the side and he looked into her.

 

“Give me a reason to stay,” He said, his soft voice strangely loud in the enclosed space of the bedroom. When she refused to open her mouth, he shook his head. “Come on, Max, obviously this is eating you or you wouldn’t have stopped by in the first place, much less asked me to stay.”

 

She can’t tell him about Ben. She can’t tell anyone about Ben. Can’t tell him that she needs him around, living and laughing and breathing and talking, even if he wasn’t Ben, even if he’s nothing like Ben. Nor can she tell him he’s a mangy mutt and she can’t imagine life without him. So she just stared at him, face blank.

 

He laughed under his breath at her blank face. It’s probably how he would react if he were in her shoes. “Come on, Maxie, are you going to make me guess?”  

 

Max wrenched her wrist away from him, a small part of her amazed at his truly awesome powers of making her hate him and entranced by him at the same time.

 

“I know,” He snapped his fingers like it just occurred to him. His eyes are dark now, and she’s back to the point of wondering if he even sees her. “You were just joshing that day you let your cyborg brother choke me and drop me in the dirt. Didn’t really mean it when you just walked off and left me there like a piece of garbage.” He focused back upon her, eyebrows rising in an expression of mocking disbelief. “Is that it, Maxie? You come all the way over here to tell me I’m really a part of your unit after all?”

 

So, she feels like a jerk for the whole ‘leaving Alec in the dirt’ thing. Even if he sometimes kind of deserved it. Like right now. But the ‘unit’ thing- that’s what prompts her mouth to open before she could really collect her thoughts. “You’ll never be part of my unit.”

 

The way she says it, direct and open, no animosity, just truth, makes him freeze.

 

“Well,” He finally manages. And that’s all he can manage. What can he say? Can’t admit that he wants to be part of her life… Can’t act annoyed without cluing her in. So he left it at that and turned away from her, shutting down everything but motor function. Even his thoughts were silenced as he stared blankly at the rumpled bed, at the duffel bag he would finish packing as soon as she was gone.

 

He’s so still… She can’t tell if she hurt him or if he doesn’t care.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fingertips reached forward, pressing slightly into the warm skin of a tense back. “But I… I just can’t think of you as a brother.”

 

If she’d thought he was still before, that was nothing compared to the sudden freeze of all movement, muscles locked in place. He turned slowly towards her after a moment and she pulled her hand back quickly, like she shouldn’t be seen touching him or something. “What did you just say?” He demanded.

 

“The whole 'unit' thing… I just…”

 

“So let me get this straight…” He made a face, interrupting her. He mulled it over for a few more seconds before making another face and throwing in some air quotations. “Only people you count as true ‘siblings’ get involved in your ‘unit’?”

 

Yes, that was exactly what she was saying. Because there are units, like Manticore units, thrown together, forced to work together, blending easily with the strength of military training. And then there’s Max’s unit, which was so much more than that. It was a family, children that had grown up together and loved each other as siblings, enough so that they’d risked it all and broken out, and the term, when used by Max to describe the other escapees from 2009, had come to be synonymous with all of those things. It was a complex web, and Alec, having not been there, could simply not be included.

 

She frowns and looks down and opens her mouth, thinking maybe she can try and explain it, but she’s interrupted by his sudden relaxation and slight shrug.

 

“I can live with that,”

 

“What?” She demanded, floored by his sudden change in attitude. They'd just fought- And now he- “But I thought you were all bent out of shape because I-“

 

“Pfft, who wants to be part of your smelly old unit, anyway?” Alec waved away her wide-eyes, suddenly the easy-going man she was used to dealing with once more.

“Besides,” he added after a momentary pause, his eyes moving up slowly to capture hers, catching her with green and gold that she’s sure will sear straight into her soul. “Who says I could ever think of you as a sister?”

 

He takes a small step forward, and suddenly he’s a stranger that she doesn't know how to deal with. His voice is soft and dangerous in the suddenly too small space of the bedroom. “And who says I want you to think of me as a brother?”

 

She’s sure that at some point in her life she had a brain, but right now it’s completely silent as she blinks in something a lot like shock, unsure what to say or how to act or-

 

The stranger with the dangerous smile is still advancing on her, though, and she sucks in a quick breath, hoping oxygen will jump-start her mental processes. His eyes are narrowed, introspective; his voice is still far too low for polite conversation. “Did you really come all this way just to make sure I wasn’t skipping town?”

 

Part of her wants to deny that she’d come over for that; the rest of her, the fearful parts, are screaming at her to pop him in the face and demand to know what other possible reason she could have for barging in on him. Not to see him half-naked, that’s for sure. Not to let him saunter up to her, to let his eyes slide across her bottom lip. Not to let his hand grasp her hip, and not to gasp as he pulls her in and their bodies collide. No, she came over here to hit him.

 

Which she does quite well, folding him over with an 'oof'.

 

“Get over yourself, Romeo,” She rolled her eyes, stepping a safe distance away from him.

 

“Well, Juliet, you ain’t.” He straightened easily, proof that her light-fisted pop hadn’t actually done any damage, much less hurt. Proof, also, that he was just as much of a drama queen as she had already known. It’s back to the usual way of dealing with him, which means she is wholly unprepared when he takes a smooth step forward, his arm slides behind her shoulders, he tugs her in, and his mouth is suddenly pressed against her own.  

 

It’s him that’s watching as her eyes widen. It’s him that’s watching as her eyes start to close. It’s him that’s the one to pull away, to step away, to look at her in perfect neutrality as her eyes snap back open and her fingertips press to her lips, just for a moment. It’s her that finally manages to shakily demand, her hand dropping away, “What the hell was that?”

 

“Friendly reminder for the future, in case your feelings towards me start changing.” His lips quirk upwards. “I’m not your brother, and I never will be. And if you think that by keeping me around, I’ll turn into him-”

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” She looked away, unable to tell him that that was the very last thing she wanted to happen. Mostly because her brother had been a serial killer. Partly because there was part of Ben’s memory that was still treasured. And maybe a small teeny bit was because her lips were still warm from the force of his own.

 

“Glad we’re on the same page then.” Then he tossed himself back on the bed, and for a moment, Max admitted that he did have a rather nice back. Then her face twisted back into a scowl.

 

“You’re such a pig! If you ever-“

 

“Yeah, yeah,” He waved it away before burying his face into pillows. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. And I won’t tell a soul, much less Logan.” She thought she might have heard him mutter, “Like I’d admit to kissing an uncute tomboy like you,” but she ignored it because she didn’t think that she had the mental fortitude to stick around and kick his ass. Not when touching him seemed like it could be so very dangerous right now.

 

He was at work the next day, and he barely looked at her, dropping his jacket next to her on the bench and passing her up in favor of hunting down Lorraina, the latest in his string of soon-to-be conquests.

 

“Huh,” O.C. had watched him pass, and more importantly, had watched Max watching him pass, and shook her head, “Didn’t think Hot Boy would be coming back to work.” She was eyeing Max in impatience, like, I know you went over there, so fess up. But Max just shrugged and turned away. Cindy couldn’t stand it though, and finally just outright demanded, “Alright, cut the act. Sketch jus’ got down telling me that Alec said he was skipping town. So, why’s he back Max?”

 

Max started. That little rat. He had been planning on leaving after all. “How should I know?” She shrugged, instead. “Jus’ cuz we’re both from Manticore doesn’t mean we share every little thing. It’s not like he was a part of my unit or anything.”

 

O.C. pursed her lips and fixed her with a telling stare. “Not your old one, no.”  

 

Max opened her mouth, took in a breath, but finally just opted for silence, staring at O.C. in surprise.

 

“Jus’ sayin,” Cindy shook her head, standing from the bench and makin’ her way towards the bathroom.  Max stared after her for a moment, before standing with a huff.

 

Alec was leaning over Lorraina, a roguish kind of grin on his face, when Max appeared from nowhere. “Can I talk to you?” Her eyes darted towards Lorraina. “Alone?”

 

After Lorraina had slunk off, and it was just the two of them, standing behind the lockers, Alec fixed her with a bland face. “So? Talk.”

 

It happened in an instant. Her hands slid across the side of his face, into his hair, and her mouth fused over his own. Alec’s brain shut down as he felt her body press into his, her mouth move over his own. He didn’t even get a chance to respond, because by the time he had kick started his mind into working, she was pulling away, walking away, muttering to herself.

 

“Yep, definitely don’t think of him like a brother. Don’t know what the hell O.C. is talking about anyway. New unit my ass. Like it’s even possible a unit could only have two people in it. Unless maybe Josh was part of it too-“ Her angry mumbles continued all the way out the door. Alec knew, ‘cuz he watched her the entire way, a soft, bemused kind of expression on his face.

 

“I saw you,” O.C. said blandly and Alec jumped, reaching for his heart.

“God, Cindy, what the hell?! You scared the crap out of me!”

 

“Don’t even think about it, Pretty Boy.” Cindy was still staring blandly at him, leaning into the lockers by his side.

 

“What? I wasn’t thinkin’ nothing.”

 

“Mmhmm,” Cindy’s pursed lips told him she thought him a liar, and a bad one at that. She added, after a moment, “Max is too good to just be another notch on your bedpost.”

 

“Seriously, Cindy, no idea what you’re talking about.” He grabbed for his jacket, still discarded on the bench. “Me n’ Max, we’re not like that.”

 

“Yeah,” Cindy snorted to herself as she watched Hot Boy walk off. “Where have I heard that one before.”

 

But she smiled as she heard Alec muttering to himself, underestimating her hearing, maybe just caught up in his own angry mumble, “’Sides, Max? She could never be a notch. She’d be the whole fuckin’ bed.”

 

And even though Hot Boy could be kinda annoying sometimes… well, Cindy hoped that Max got over the whole ‘unit’ mentality one day and opened her eyes. ‘Cuz Manticore really did know how to make ‘em pretty. She smirked before grabbing her own jacket, following them for a lunch break, a long line, and bickering that seemed so normal it was almost telling.

.