Disclaimer: I don't own DA.
A/N: Well, I originally wrote this in first person...but I got halfway done with it and couldn't take it anymore (I absolutely HATE writing in first person) and changed it back to third, so I hope the first part still flows well out of the tense it was originally meant for. By the way, this is total fluff (translation: might not be the highest quality writing I've ever put out)
Logan Cale had often wondered how many hours one could stare at a computer screen before insanity began to set in. The small, blinking cursor flashing in and out...in and out. Well, that could be hypnotic at times, couldn't it? So, he wasn't at all surprised to find himself sitting pathetically in his wheel chair, staring blankly at that tiny little line at three in the morning.
Sometimes he thought that the world had something fundamentally against him. True enough, he'd been graced with money and -- he was told -- relatively good looks, but the remainder of his life seemed empty at times. There was always the worry that anyone who got close to him wasn't really trying to know him as well as they were trying to get to know the bills in his pocket. So, he'd come to the point where he was relatively loose with his money, handing it out to anyone who wanted a piece of it.
Still, the world turned against him. In his desire to help others, he found himself sitting there, staring at a computer screen in a wheel chair with insanity encroaching upon his mind. The insanity didn't bother him as much as the fact that he couldn't walk. All for other people, he'd given up so much.
Sighing, he turned off his computer and rolled himself towards his bedroom. The bed was large and empty, and of course cold. A shiver ran up his back as he got himself ready for bed, a process which was twice as long as it used to be. It would all have been easier with help, but that was something he couldn't bring himself to ask for. Sure, he could have someone do his laundry and other little chores, but helping him into bed...well, that seemed so much more pathetic.
Under the cool sheets, he stared up at the ceiling, tracing the blurry groove where it hooked to the wall with his eyes. His glasses sat on the nightstand, and he couldn't help but fall into an all too familiar depressive fissure in his self-confidence. Logan used to be the kind of man who could get anything he wanted, tall and athletic, people fell into his lap. Now when people stared at him, he saw pity in their eyes. He hated the pity.
Pinching his eyes tightly shut, he tried to banish all thought from his tortured mind. All he wanted was sleep, the unthinking restfulness where he wasn't bound by his legs or other people.
Slowly, he fell into silent, peaceful oblivion.
Hazy, everything around Logan was a nebulous cloud of color and light. However, the light of day wasn't what had awoken him. No, what roused him was something he hadn't felt in a very long time. A small center of heat rested lightly on his chest and sunk deep into his muscle and bone. An unobtrusive touch, but defiantly a touch.
Blinking, he turned his head, and gasped in utter shock when he found the source of the warmth. Her eyes were open, their deep, endless brown smiling softly at him. Her downy, dark hair was spread across the white pillow like an angry rain cloud.
"Morning," she murmured, her lips close to his ear. The movement of her breath across his skin unnerved him. Her hand, still at rest on his chest, moved further across it until her arm was slung fully across him.
Logan was speechless.
"Sleep well?" she asked.
"Yeah, you?" Words finally managed to move past his lips.
"Wonderfully," she grinned and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. "I'll make breakfast."
She rolled away from him, her arm leaving contact with his body, and he immediately missed its presence. At the same time, he was somewhat glad it was gone, knowing the longer it stayed the more apt he would be never to let it go.
Max sat up on the other side of the bed, the covers falling off of her, revealing the bare expanse of her back. Logan tried not to stare, but couldn't seem to peel his eyes away. Confused at why she was with him, but not really caring, he watched as she pulled one of his long T-shirts over her head.
Slowly, hesitantly, he sat up on his elbows; almost afraid that a quick movement on his part would make her disappear, which was certainly the very last thing in the world that he wanted to happen. Figment of his imagination or not, he wanted to stay with her a little longer.
"Are you getting up, or are you just going to lay there?" she asked, standing up and turning to face him.
Not for the first time since waking, Logan almost choked on his own tongue. The long, loose shirt did nothing to hide the fact that she had a belly heavily swollen with child. Most definitely past her seventh month, her hands rested on the lower arch of her back, bending her posture backward somewhat.
He swallowed deeply, trying to regain a footing in the English language.
"I'll be out in a second," he finally managed to announce.
"Alright," she flashed him a blinding smile. "Don't take too long...doctor's appointment today, remember?" Pushing her hair behind her ears, she walked out of the room, softly humming to herself. For a few moments, he sat in stunned silence, processing the world around him. Naturally, he couldn't help but be effected by waking up to a completely undressed, and undeniably pregnant Max. Too confused to be disgusted with himself, he tossed off the covers.
Logan found himself in a similar state of undress, and more than a little uncomfortable. Shaking his head, he reached for his glasses and settled them on his nose. The room around him suddenly came into sharp clarity, looking just as real as it had any other day. Only, this day was very different, and couldn't possibly have been real.
"What's taking you so long?" Max demanded, coming back into the room.
Impulsively, Logan snapped the covers back over himself, flushing with embarrassment.
"Shy today?" she asked, raising one of her eyebrows. "Hurry up, we've got to get going." Her head disappeared from the doorway, and he franticly cast his gaze around the room in search of his clothes. His eyes came to rest on a pair of pants, his pants, slung over a chair across the room. He couldn't possibly reach them from where he was, and his wheelchair was nowhere to be found. Logan's heart began to pound, he didn't want to have to call Max back in.
He moved to get out of bed and was faced with a feeling of surprise which was becoming common place. His eyes wide, he stared down at his legs, which had for once obeyed the somewhat unconscious messages sent to them from his brain. His feet touching the cool floor, he sat in awe.
"What is with you today?" Max reappeared in the room and walked over to the dresser. Logan was mortified when she pulled out a pair of boxers and tossed them in his general direction. "Hurry up." The boxers were followed by a pair of socks and a shirt, all of which landed expertly beside him on the bed. Only Max had such aim, even when she wasn't looking.
Without so much as a glance back, she walked back out of the room, beckoned back toward the kitchen by the sound of something sizzling in a pan. In a flurry of motion, Logan pulled on the boxers, raising up onto his unsteady legs. The socks come on next, followed by the shirt and finally by the pants he walked over to retrieve from the back of the chair.
Walking, it's so strange after all this time, but I'm definitely doing it and I'm not about to question why.
An unsteady breath, and a quick trip to the bathroom later he joined Max in the kitchen. The smell of bacon filled the room and she was singing softly to herself as he walked in.
"About time," she said, interrupting her song. "I made the batter if you want to make the pancakes...they're always so much better when you make them." The look she cast him was...loving. Surprised to see it in her eyes, but learning to deal with shock, he was easily able to push the feeling aside and walk over to the small bowl of pancake batter.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked, gazing at her bare legs.
"No, not really," she shrugged.
"Humor me and put some pants on," Logan insisted, worried about her and what he might do.
"Alright...man the bacon and I'll be right back." She handed him a grease splattered fork and walked back toward his bedroom. Able to loose himself in the familiar action of cooking, Logan managed somewhat successfully to banish the feeling that everything around him would fade in a matter of moments only to reveal him sitting sadly alone in his bed.
"Logan?" Max's voice traveled to him from the other room.
"Do you know where my black bra is?"
Logan coughed for a moment, still not used to the level of intimacy he suddenly found himself shoved into.
"No," he called back truthfully.
"Oh...never mind! I found it!"
Gulping, he tried once again to sink his mind into the task at hand. Pouring batter into a pan, he deftly made a few quick pancakes, enjoying the scent and sound of breakfast cooking.
"Mmm, those look good," Max announced behind him, reaching around him for the bacon fork. The action pressed her rounded stomach into his back and she paused to press a kiss to his neck. The touch, as simple as it was, made him shudder.
"What time is it?" he asked, needing to get his mind off the course her being so close was setting it on.
"A little after nine," she replied. "Which gives us about an hour and a half to eat and get down to the doctor."
Logan found himself wondering who the appointment was for. Max, obviously, was in need of trips to the doctor due to her...condition...but he was also used to regular visits. However, he was obviously in better condition than he had been. After attributing a short period of thought to the question, Logan assumed the appointment was meant for Max, which brought a new question to his mind. Who was the father?
Granted, he had woke up laying naked with her but he couldn't even imagine forgetting something as momentous as getting Max pregnant. Which meant it couldn't have possibly been him, but as he looked out the corner of his eye at her, he allowed himself to believe that it was.
"Maple or blueberry?" he asked, searching for the syrup.
"Maple," she replied, pulling out a plate for the bacon. The table was set sparsely, and Max pulled her chair to sit right beside his instead of across from it. Her knee made contact his as they sat down to start into their breakfast and her hand came to rest on his thigh.
"You know," she swallowed a bite of fluffy pancake, "we really should come up with a name. We can't keep putting it off."
"What do you have in mind?" he asked.
"I don't know," her gaze went up the ceiling "Something pretty but strong for a girl...something intelligent and charming for a boy."
"A little vague there, Max," Logan laughed. "Most women have been planning what they're going to name their children since birth."
"Well, I was doing different things," she replied, sending him a hot look.
At least that is the same. Her temper is no less biting in this reality than the one I used to know.
"Anyway, I got a little used to numbers rather than names for a while."
"Oh, well in that case...how about 332960073453?" he asked, firing off her barcode number except moving the last number up one.
"Beautiful," she laughed. "We can call it 53 for short." She rolled her eyes and finished off her breakfast. "I'm gonna hit the bathroom and we can go."
Before she got up, she leaned over, eradicating the small space between them. One hand on the back of his head, she pressed an open mouthed kiss to his lips. This kiss was all together unlike the two she had already bestowed upon him. This one was forceful, deep, and intoxicating. Groaning, Logan opened his mouth to her expert ministrations.
Unable to resist, Logan ran his hands down her back.
"Better not go there," Max broke away from him, "or we'll never get to that appointment. It's your fault we have to go anyway."
"My fault?" Logan felt more than a little disoriented.
"As I recall you were the one on top of me, honey," she said in rapid-fire fashion. The comment Logan was able to handle, but he nearly choked when she playfully slapped his butt as he got up. For a pregnant woman, she was extremely alluring.
Laughing, she walked away from him into the bathroom.
Logan felt dizzy as he looked down at Max. She was laying with her shirt up, revealing her stomach. Beside here was a small television showing her sonogram and, from what she said, their child. It was a wild thought, but one he found surprisingly pleasant. Max's hand sought out his, and she wound her small, strong fingers between his own.
"Little 53, Logan," she grinned up at him, her face unimaginably beautiful.
He kissed her, overflowing with happiness. He'd never imagined that something so simple could make him so happy. The doctor looked up at them, a woman with dark hair and crystal clear blue eyes. A smile cracked her clinical demeanor.
"Looks like everything's fine," she announced. "Do you still not want to know the sex?"
"No, we want to be surprised," Max insisted. Logan nodded his agreement, secretly wanting to know. God only knew how long this reality, this wonderful reality, would last. He wanted to get all out of it that he could.
"Logan?" Max asked as they walked together out of the doctor's office.
"I love you."
"I love you too." It was suddenly so easy to say, the very idea he'd been dancing around for so long. In this world, it slipped past his lips like he'd said it a hundred times.
"Have you found out anything about the drug smuggler yet?" she asked as they climbed into Logan's car. He had to admit to being a little blind-sided by the question. He hadn't expected that with Max in the condition she was in, their relationship having taken on the facets it apparently had, that he would still be Eyes Only.
"No, not yet," he replied, watching her as she rested her hands on her stomach.
"Can't wait until it's born," she smiled at him. "Maybe then we can get started on the next?"
"Sounds like a plan," Logan laughed. "I've always liked big families."
"Me too," Max admitted, relaxing in the passenger seat. "But, I think we should keep with the condoms for a while...I'm not up for another nine months of this right away."
"Whatever," Logan shrugged, it was her decision after all. As he drove home, he found himself struggling against the idea that everything previous to the morning he'd woken up beside Max had been just a dream. Everything around him seemed real, and it was definitely more pleasant than the world he remembered.
"I was thinking maybe I'd go visit Kendra today," Max announced, her hand playing with the hair on the back of Logan's head.
"Okay." His response was daft, even to his own ears. "Be home early though."
"Why, you've got plans?" she asked teasingly.
"Maybe," Logan shrugged. In truth, he was afraid if he let her out of his sight for long that she would disappear like the phantom that she was.
Evening found Max and Logan curled up on the couch together. Max's arms were slung around his neck and her fingers danced nimbly across his chest. Her head rested trustingly on his shoulder, his arm holding her close to him.
God...I never want to go back.
"I'm still not used to sleeping so much," Max announced, yawning. "It'll be nice to be able to hop back on my ninja."
Logan looked sharply down at her.
"I know...I know..." she rolled her eyes. "I should really be more careful now, but I can't live a bubble."
"I'd make you one," Logan admitted, lightly brushing his lips across hers. She tasted sweet, and as she pulled his bottom lip into her mouth he let out a long sigh.
"Wanna come in my bubble?" she asked, her tone teasing.
Logan made a low growling sound and pulled her head forcefully against his, plunging his tongue into her mouth. She bit at him, her tongue dancing with his. His hand strayed down to her stomach where it came to rest on the gentle rise. His child, their child...a deep aching love ran through him.
"I love you," he announced for the second time that day.
"I know," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "Take me to bed, sweetie."
Logan awoke with a start, his eyes blurry and his body cold. Franticly he reached out, encountering nothing but sheets. Max, where was she? His heart pounded and he sat bolt upright.
"Sleeping in a little late this morning, aren't we?" Max asked from the doorway. He reached for his glasses and quickly put them on. Still, he couldn't deny what he was obviously seeing. Dressed in her black cat suit with a stomach flat and hard, she leaned casually against the doorframe.
It had been much too real to be a dream, but obviously it had been. Feeling as if he'd lost something, he rubbed his eyes.
"What do you need, Max?" he asked.
"Breakfast," she replied. "Kendra's been putting off going shopping, practically starving me out of the house."
"You start the bacon, and I'll make the pancakes," he nodded.
"Good." She flashed him a brilliant smile. "They're always better when you make them anyway."
**Told you...pure fluff...lol**