A/N: I don't own it. I'm just borrowing it.
OK, this is my first fic. It's inspired by the song Kiss With a Fist by Florence and the Machine. Please let me know what you think.
Another day another argument, I think to myself as I see you storming into my office headed straight for me, that fiery look in your eyes. What did I do now, I wonder as you slam the door.
We've been in Terminal City for a year now, playing your stupid pretend boyfriend game. You have no idea how much it tears me apart to hold you in my arms only to have you tear yourself away the second he's not looking. I haven't touched another woman in so long because the only one I think about is you even though you're not mine, you'll never be mine. I sit at home alone at night with my bottle of Scotch berating myself for letting you use me this way.
Oh, the things I do for you. I took over this place for you. I didn't care that the others needed a leader. What mattered was that you needed me. You asked me to stay and I stayed. If it weren't for you I'd be long gone. I'm so tired of seeing you look at me that way. I wish you could see how much you mean to me, how much I aspire to be the man you expect me to be. That just once, you'd look into my eyes and see me and not the things that I've done in days long passed.
I'm brought out of my thoughts as your hand swings around to slap me across the back of the head. "Ow, Max! What the hell was that for?"
"I heard you and the boys snuck out last night to go to some strip club. That was really stupid Alec. You know how dangerous it is out there, especially for you."
I can't help but stare into your eyes for a second in amazement that you actually care. For a moment I think maybe I see it, the concern in your eyes. In truth, I never left last night. The boys asked me to go and I declined but I say, "And what's it to you what I do in my off hours? It's bad enough I've got to keep on pretending I'm your guy in public. Now you expect me to what? Sit at home and knit?"
"You shouldn't be so careless. Terminal City can't afford to lose its CO." Your words sting me to the core. You don't care about me at all. All you care about is your CO getting into trouble.
"Well, not that it's any of your concern, but you heard wrong. Some of the guys did sneak out last night but I wasn't one of 'em."
You stare at me for a moment dumbfounded and at a loss for words and finally say, "Good," slap me once for good measure, and off you go leaving me to ponder the latest assault.
Even when I've done nothing wrong, you're always so quick to punch or kick or slap. I often wonder why you hit me so much, why I never move to stop you, why I never hit you back. I suppose, it all comes down to that fire in your eyes when you're angry. It takes my breath away. It reminds me of the way I've seen you look at him, the way I wish you'd look at me. That must be why I go to the lengths I do to annoy you. I guess the old song's got it right. A kiss with a fist is better than none.