A/N: This is my first DarkAngel fic. Got hooked to that AFTER I saw Michael Weatherly on NCIS and had a friend of mine get me the DVDs…anyway, loved Logan from the first moment, found the relationship between him and Max absolutely interesting (and really crappy that they couldn't touch in Season 2. I mean, why did they do that? Wasn't like we would've confused Real-Michael and Real-Jessica with Logan and Max… well…)
Anyway, the muses visited me one evening, and this is what they brought with them. The relationship IS different than in the series but I hope you won't mind..
Disclaimer: Don't own it! (But if anyone could sell me MW, I'd gladly take him)
Max grinned softly as she was standing in front of the reflective surface of the elevator in Fogle Tower. She winked at herself and then cut a face at her image just for the heck of it.
Indeed she was a little tired, she noticed with surprise. Weariness was a feeling she was hardly accustomed to but then it was also true that this moment right now marked the end of a long week that had had her even busier than usual with errands for Normal. On top of that, she had been going after one of Logan's sources. Or at least, she'd been trying to.
Darren Mark had simply been impossible to find. Since Monday she had been keeping her eyes and ears open for any sign of him, or even of anyone knowing about his whereabouts.
Nothing. It was as if the man had vanished into thin air.
Yesterday evening she had finally called Logan after keeping quiet the whole week. She remembered exactly that Sunday late at night he had told her that it was absolutely crucial to find Mark. For what, she wasn't too sure about, but if Logan said he was important, well, then he was.
And her inability to find him had been bothering her a lot. She had somehow felt as if she had let Logan down, though she admitted that he'd probably never ever tell her so. Or show her. Or give her any clue that it might be so.
That's why she hadn't contacted him till yesterday.
Her hesitancy must have communicated itself immediately because Logan, though seemingly distracted by whatever he had been doing as she called him, hadn't even let her apologize for not finding the man.
"No problem," he'd said. "Don't worry. I've already thought that might possibly happen 'cause the guy hasn't been spotted round here for months. Could've very well left Seattle for good."
Logan had paused then, with Max not knowing what to say to fill the sudden silence. She wasn't placated so easily. Mark was important or Logan wouldn't have bothered telling her to find him in the first place. And he wasalso the only source Logan had wanted her to contact for him and she hadn't managed to.
All of that had translated into that strange feeling of uneasiness that had made her a little queasy in the stomach. Another thing she was unaccustomed to.
"Logan," she'd then begun, but broken off once more. She hated her uncertainty. Any kind of uncertainty, but especially where Logan was concerned.
While collecting her thoughts about what to tell him – she could try harder, there was the weekend without any runs for Normal coming up – she could hear him busily typing away on the keyboard of his computer, seemingly unfazed about what she'd told him moments ago. He really didn't appear as if her inability to find the man bothered him in any way. She knew Logan wouldn't attempt to hide his disappointment behind a mask of fake bustle. He'd absolutely tell her that he still needed her to uncover Mark's whereabouts.
But he wasn't doing that. So…
She had smiled then, remembering that it was Logan she was dealing with here. Logan. Who was everything but a hypocrite. He had never even tried to lie to her once in all the time they'd known each other. She simply knew that. Logan was true to the core. If he said that she shouldn't worry about Mark, then he meant it.
"So," she'd drawled then, "seeing that I haven't lost any favors with you, what would you say if I came over for dinner tomorrow?"
She'd almost physically felt his answering smile.
"I'd love you to," he'd said.
And that's how she'd come to be standing in the elevator to his apartment now, a bottle of wine in her backpack. Another one of Logan's fantastic meals was waiting for her, constituting the beginning of a wonderful evening that would last well into the night if things were going as usual.
She again grinned at her reflection, twirling a strand of her dark hair between her fingers. If she was honest, she was a little nervous about the upcoming dinner.
But she wasn't honest, and so she wasn't nervous. Or at least she told herself so.
For weeks now she hadn't known any longer where she was standing with Logan. Or where he was standing with her, for that matter.
In the beginning she'd told herself that the strange feeling in her stomach must be some weird Manticore hormone stuff whatsoever. She'd chosen to dismiss it.
Then, still failing to identify it, she'd written it off as her body's reaction to recognizing what a strange pair Logan and her actually constituted. A genetically engineered Manticore espacee and a paraplegic well-to-do ex-journalist, who really was Eyes Only.
Then, after finally talking to Cindy, she'd started to realize the true nature of that queasiness. Humans called it falling in love.
Glancing up, Max caught her reflection smiling softly. Again she winked at herself. After her own revelation, things had gone quickly. Or slowly, whatever point of view one might be willing to take.
She loved Logan. And he loved her, as he had confessed to her in a moment of unguarded openness that had happened completely unexpected. They'd been talking about the usual stuff – Eyes Only's latest hack, Normal's antics, Bling's love life – and then it came out. Which had actually been a little funny as Logan's head was kind of buried in the fridge right at that moment. He re-emerged seconds later, with two tomatoes in his left hand, his face a nice shade of scarlet. His ears, too.
He'd then been trying to conceal what he'd said, stuttering – very uncommon for Logan Cale – something about 'Um…these….tomatoes….they're….they'll be great for the salad.'
In a moment of unwavering, sure tenderness she'd knelt next to him, grasped his hand, and told him she loved him, too.
After that… well, nothing more had happened. He'd cut up the tomatoes, which indeed made for a nice salad. He'd cooked her dinner. They'd played a game of chess. She'd gone home.
No searing kisses still in the kitchen, no making-out on the couch, no hot sex in the bedroom. As far as Cindy was concerned, that wasn't normal. Actually, it wasn't even not normal. It was more than not normal. 'Hyper-super not normal', she thought, absentmindedly wondering if such an expression even existed.
According to her friend, a relationship between two people who loved each other went different. Even a relationship between people who didn't love each other.
Max, however, wasn't sure whether she'd even call that thing that Logan and she had a 'relationship'. She came over for food, or when he paged her that he needed her to find something out for him. Sometimes she came to simply talk to him. She hadn't ever come for kisses or for sex or for cuddling.
But still, things were changing after that unexpected declaration of their feelings. A week later, during a Friday evening dinner in his apartment, Logan had reached across the table and covered her hand with his, entwining their fingers. Another week later, she had strolled into his apartment unannounced and just hadn't been able to help herself as she saw him deeply engrossed in his work, hunched over his desk. She'd sneaked up from behind him and kissed him. Deeply and soundly. No peck on the lips. Tongue involved and all that.
It still got a grin out of her every time she was thinking of it, because after overcoming his momentary shock, he'd kissed her back. Deeply and soundly. No peck on the lips, as well. Strangely, however, they hadn't turned to the bedroom even then.
Maybe that was because the two of them were so different in regard to everybody else.
They really made for a nice pair, Max acknowledged once more as she waited for the little 'ding' that announced she'd reached Logan's apartment.
She, unused to feelings, to commitment, to love. Afraid of all three of them. Especially where Logan was concerned.
He, tied to a wheelchair, afraid to let himself feel again because of the wounds his disability had cloven into his heart. Afraid that he wasn't enough for her. Afraid, as he had later told her, that he wouldn't be able to satisfy her.
Somehow, they had still found their way into Logan's bed one evening. Other than that it had been Friday again, there had been no indication of this happening, no omen, no prelude even. As it always seemed to be with them.
They'd been sitting in his living-room, sharing a bottle of wine, talking about nothing really when Logan had unexpectedly taken her hand, looked her in the eyes, and told her 'I want you.'
She still wasn't sure about what exactly had been in the wine to suddenly make Logan forget all his insecurities about sleeping with her.
Not that he had needed to have some, Max thought with a fine grin as the elevator came to a halt. It had been great. More than great, actually. 'Hyper-super great…' Better than anything she had experienced with any man before. Better than Cindy had ever prophesied it could be.
Logan was a wonderful and sensitive lover who deeply cared about her. His injury had presented nothing of a problem really. Whatever he was unable to do, he certainly made up with the skill of his fingers and mouth.
Wow. Max shuddered only remembering it.
And still they hadn't yet achieved what she – and probably almost every other human on the planet – would call a real 'relationship'. They didn't scramble madly to the bedroom each time they saw each other. They didn't kiss and cuddle all the time. They didn't spend hours on the phone talking to each other at night. They even went without seeing one another for days on end.
Instead, he still called her when he needed something from her. She came over when she wanted dinner. Or sometimes just to talk.
Sometimes they ended up in his bedroom. Sometimes she left before midnight.
They loved each other. But they still didn't know how to deal with that.
And that's why she had felt insecure about not finding Darren Mark. That's why she was now desperately waiting for the elevator doors to open. That's also why she was now trembling because she hadn't seen him all week and she was actually needing to but hadn't managed to work up the courage to simply drop by.
She was there. Before Logan's apartment. Terribly unsure how this evening would go. Swaying between acting as if they were just friends like they'd been a few weeks ago, and dragging him off to the bedroom the second she opened the door.
But somehow all her doubts evaporated as she entered. It was Logan after all, and she loved him, and he loved her, though they had indeed problems dealing with that.
Max smiled a little, breathing in his familiar scent though he was nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, the smells drifting in from the direction of the kitchen immediately clued her in to his whereabouts.
Without really trying to be quiet, she walked into the adjoining room where Logan was busily stirring something that was clearly the source of that delicious smell.
"Hey," she said softly, hearing the smile that had crept into her voice at seeing him.
Logan turned his head, the same smile gracing his features.
"Hey," he answered, his voice a little gravelly. "Just about in time. Dinner'll be ready in a minute."
"Looks great," she laughed, accompanied by a rumble of her stomach. She came closer, peering into one of the pots he'd already placed on the counter.
"I always wonder how you manage to get all the stuff you need. I mean I hardly know the names of half of what you throw in there, and you…"
He gave an answering chuckle. "I won't tell," he grinned. "That's something you need to figure out for yourself."
"Spoilsport," Max said in mock indignation. Her features, though, were softening almost immediately.
"Logan Cale, man of many mysteries," she smiled gently.
And with that she gave in to the urge she'd felt since entering his apartment. Or maybe since stepping into the elevator some minutes earlier. Or maybe since the time she'd last seen him five days ago.
She crossed the few steps still separating them, coming up behind Logan who had again turned to the stove in front of him and snuck her arms around his upper body, pressing a kiss to his hair.
"I love you," she murmured quietly. "You know that?"
Instead of answering, Logan covered her hands with his, letting her feel the warmth of his skin, and brushed his lips against the right side of her neck. Small kisses wandered up from the hem of her t-shirt to below her ear, leaving her shivering in their wake.
Before things went much further, though, a low buzz from the oven interrupted them. Dinner was ready.
Embarrassed, Logan smiled. A soft blush had crept up his cheeks, and he gestured half-heartedly in the direction of offending noise.
"I…um…need to get the fish out before it gets…um…burned."
The hesitancy in his words clearly belied his feelings. Max smiled. She loved these rare occasions when Logan's outer amour broke and his insecurities came through. Those moments were few and far between, and made her treasure them even more.
Somehow they made him equal to her as she felt insecure all the time where he was concerned.
She watched him with a tender expression on her face while he was putting the finishing touches to their food and preparing their plates. Seeing that he would have trouble taking everything over to the living room in one go, she grabbed the wine glasses that he had set on the counter before and led the way.
Pulling the bottle of wine out of her backpack and filling the glasses with it, she was just about to called over if she could help him with something else as he came wheeling in with a tray in his lap.
"Sit," he invited her then, placing one of the plates in front of her. Max smiled, choosing the place right next to him, letting their legs deliberately brush against each other. Even if he couldn't feel it, he'd still be able to see the gesture and understand what she meant by that.
And yes, a slow smile blossomed over his face, reaching his eyes. He understood.
Carefully, he lifted his wine glass and clinked it to hers.
"Thank you," he said earnestly. "Thank you for coming over and spending this evening with me."
Without thinking, Max put her right hand against Logan's left cheek. The fine, ever present stubble made her skin tingle and upset the nerves in her whole body.
"There wasn't anywhere or anyone I'd rather have spent my time with."
Even while saying the words, Max already felt herself blush. This rollercoaster of feelings was certainly going to drive her crazy soon. She let her hand sink again.
Both took a sip of their wine, suddenly too shy to look each other in the eye.
"Let's eat," Logan suggested then, disrupting the awkwardness of the moment. "Cold fish isn't something I'm too keen on."
At his words and the accompanying chuckle, Max simply had to giggle. "Don't dig that, either," she got out amidst pearls of laughter. Logan joined her, though both weren't too sure what they were actually laughing about. It didn't really matter.
An hour later they had finished their dinner and the bottle of wine. The fish had been as delicious as its smell had led Max to expect beforehand. Her plate had been cleared in no time, and she had started sneaking bits of Logan's share, which had resulted in an amusing discussion about the size of her stomach compared to that of a starving wolf. That was also the point when any residue of any awkwardness that might have been there before had vanished.
Now Max was taking the dishes into the kitchen while Logan went in search for a second bottle of wine, next to which he happened to find a box of Max' favorite chocolates he'd bought some time ago.
Bringing both items with him to the living-room, he saw that Max hadn't resettled on the couch but was standing in front of the window through which the night loomed inside.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said as he wheeled beside her, gazing into the darkness.
She didn't answer for quite awhile.
"It is," she agreed then, hoping that he knew she wasn't talking only about the night or the city or the stars. She meant them. Max and Logan. They were beautiful together even if they had the oddest relationship anyone had ever had.
She turned to look down at him, catching his eyes unexpectedly. They seemed so green tonight.
Sliding to the floor next to him, she leaned against the wheel of his chair and grasped his hand. The warmth of his skin never ceased to amaze her.
His answering squeeze made the corners of her lips tug upward in a smile.
For some minutes both of them peered quietly out into the darkness. This was so much better, Max thought, than sitting atop the SpaceNeedle on her own. Here she was with the man she loved, whom she could always rely on to never abandon her.
Suddenly feeling the inexplicable need to look at him, she turned her head to study his profile. His eyes were calm now, she noticed. Hair as unruly as always, making her want to run her hands through it. Maybe later, she amended. For now it was enough for her to trace the shape of his lips with her eyes. Lips she loved to kiss.
Logan must've sensed her staring because his mouth started to curve into a smile and he turned his head to look down at her.
"You good?" he asked in a low voice.
She squeezed his hand a little. "I'm good," she said.
Logan searched her face, and nodded, obviously satisfied with her answer.
"Glass of wine?" he offered then. "Or would you rather have some chocolates?"
Max' face showed her delight. "Yeah, I'd love to."
Logan poured her a glass and gave her the box of sweets he'd brought. Greedily, Max snatched one, then two, sticking them into her mouth, letting them melt on her tongue.
"Mmh," she sighed with her eyes closed. "These are great, Logan."
When he didn't say anything, she opened her eyes and saw that he was watching her with a hungry expression on his face.
Max smiled slyly. "You want one, too?"
Clearing his throat, Logan only managed a curt nod.
Carefully, Max picked one chocolate out of the box. But instead of placing it into Logan's outstretched hand, she got to her knees and leaned in, holding the sweet between her fingertips.
"Open your mouth," she murmured and Logan complied.
His eyes never left her face as she placed the chocolate on his tongue, his lips closing round her fingers as she slowly pulled them from his mouth.
His irises were almost black with desire and Max could not stop herself from moaning. Her body tingled as she felt his tongue caress the soft skin of her fingertips.
Finally he released her fingers, sighing deeply. The sound he made undid her completely. So raw. So much longing lay in it, and desire, and love.
With a swift movement she slid closer to him, cradling his head in both of her hands. The box of chocolates slipped from her lap unnoticed as their lips touched, their tongues seeking the warmth of the other's mouth.
Their kiss turned from lazy to hot and hungry and back again. Soft moans punctuated the stillness, baring their desire.
At last, faces flushed, breathing heavily, they separated again. Logan cupped Max' face in his hands and looked her deeply in the eyes.
"Shall we…?" He broke off, cleared his throat, and started again, surer this time.
"Shall we move this to the bedroom?" he asked softly, his longing evident in his voice.
Max only leaned in once more to place a kiss on his lips. "Yes," she whispered huskily. "I'd love to."
Four hours later Max was watching Logan sleep. Her left hand was softly caressing his chest, so lightly as not to disturb him. Underneath her palm she felt each intake of breath, and it was this simple thing that made her more content than she'd ever been in her whole life.
Logan looked different when he was asleep, she mused. Less troubled, less weary. Not necessarily more innocent. But without his glasses certainly younger. Yeah, Max admitted, sometimes clichés turned out to be not so far-fetched indeed.
Lightly, she pressed a kiss to his forehead and cuddled closer. These moments were so terribly rare when there was nothing to disturb them, when she simply could revel in the warmth of his skin, listening to the comforting beat of his heart under her ear.
She closed her eyes again. She wouldn't fall asleep now; the little nap she'd taken after they had made love to each other had refreshed her. Logan, on the other hand, surely wouldn't wake for some time. After all, she chuckled quietly to herself, he was only human.
She didn't mind, though. His exhaustion gave her the chance to watch him unguardedly, to think about the two of them, and remember the past few hours.
As great as his dinner had been, the aftermath had turned out to be even more fantastic. The unforgettable, impossibly erotic seduction with the chocolates. Making love afterwards.
No, she shook her head in a tiny gesture, it really didn't matter that Logan was paralyzed. He knew how to cherish and pleasure her without the ability to engage in normal, traditional sex. Max shuddered and unconsciously liked her lips at the thought of how the slightly rough tip of his thumb had felt on…. Or how his hot tongue had seemed to know exactly where…
Almost she felt like waking Logan right now and making him repeat what he had done to her body only some hours ago. She sighed deeply.
But no, she wouldn't do that. Logan was sleeping, and hell, he needed his rest. Eyes Only was constantly busy, and a little waiting wouldn't hurt her too much. He surely wouldn't say no to her if she woke him some time later, maybe with a little touch of her tongue to the hollow of his throat. Oh, he was so sensitive there she'd discovered tonight. The small sounds he'd given at… or maybe she would wake him by licking over his earlobe, which made him shudder every time she did that…
Before meeting Logan and before feeling his body pressed next to hers for the first time, Max wouldn't even have suspected that she – genetically engineered and enhanced specimen that she was – was able to have such a one-tracked mind.
Lately, all of her thoughts somehow seemed to concern Logan. If she wasn't preoccupied with dreaming about making love to him, visualizing his hands, his tongue – and oh, wasn't she glad about her extremely vivid imagination! – she was thinking about the other aspects of this relationship.
Which she still wasn't completely sure of if she could call it so. What they had defied the traditional description of one. Sure, they loved each other. Sure, they made love, but…
Willingly interrupting her train of thought, Max glanced down at the sleeping man in her arms once more, brushing an unruly lock of hair from his forehead.
But maybe this was just what they needed. A relationship that wasn't considered normal. One that was just as unusual as the two of them. 'Cause if she'd have to choose between an ordinary relationship with an ordinary man and this strange one with the strange man who was in her arms right now, she'd take Logan every single time.
No doubts about that.
And well, who knew what the future might hold in store for them. Things might change still, for better or for worse. But this was now and she fully intended to use the time well, which absolutely involved the man lying next to her.
Max smiled again, and leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of his left eyebrow.
"Logan," she whispered. "Time to wake up."
A soft groan was his only answer, making her chuckle.
Feeling a little evil, she bent closer and nibbled on his earlobe, with her left hand sneaking down his chest to lightly caress his warm skin.
His eyes snapped open and immediately sought hers, a slow smile spreading over his face. Then he deftly flipped her on her back in a quick, unsuspected movement, grinning down at her from above. He was definitely awake now.
"Can't get enough, huh?" he asked teasingly, his expression belying that he absolutely didn't mind that.
Before she had the chance to answer, though, his mouth descended to cover her lips with his.
'Yeah,' Max thought in a last moment of clarity before any coherence gave way to pure ecstasy. 'This is it. Logan and me.'
A/N: Happy? Please tell me!