A/N: Still don't own it.
I arrived at command this morning in a relatively good mood only to have it crushed after overhearing a muffled discussion between Tim and Jake about a little excursion outside last night. As soon as they see me coming their discussion grinds to a halt and they both shout out an awkward, "Hey Max!"
I storm past them and feel my temper rising as I make my way to your office. I ask myself, why should I care what he does in his free time? It's not like we're in a real relationship. Still, I can't seem to get out of my head the fact that you put yourself at risk to go out and watch a bunch of women take their clothes off. I'm not jealous, that can't be it. I have no right to be jealous. You're not mine, you'll never be mine. This past year you've made me so proud with the things you've accomplished, the burden you carry on your shoulders. I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the line I've started to enjoy the comfort of your arms around me in those moments Logan's around. Still, I pull away when he's gone because I know it's what you expect of me.
The sad look, I could swear it was longing, in your eyes as I enter slamming the door behind me catches me a bit off-guard but I continue to charge forward. I reach up and smack you on the back of the head eliciting an "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."
You're staring into my eyes now. It seems almost as though you're searching for something. Just as I'm about to look away you 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?"
I can't let you see the real reason it upset me that you would risk your life for such a ridiculous reason so I say, "You shouldn't be so careless. Terminal City can't afford to lose its CO."
For a moment I think I see hurt in your eyes but then you smirk and say, "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."
I feel so guilty for coming in here and blaming you for something you took no part in that I don't know what to say but I manage to collect myself and grit out "Good," before smacking you once and darting out the door as fast as my legs can carry me.
I don't know why I feel the need to hit you all the time. Sometimes you don't even deserve it when I take a swing at you. If you asked me why, I don't know what I'd say. I'd probably claim it's to keep you in line since you do so many stupid things but deep down I know that's wrong.
OK, so maybe I do know why and I'll never admit it to you or anyone else but sometimes I feel like if I can't touch you, a kiss with a fist is better than none.
A/N: I'm going to end this one here but I have an inspiration for a chapter story to follow this snippet.