Hi Guys, I've been out of the loop for a while, but I was re-watching DA a while back, and it inspired me to get back into the community. It's been a while since I have written a fic so hopefully this goes okay. I have the entire plotline mapped out, so it is going somewhere. Somewhere entirely different from where it starts, I might add. Thanks to Florence and the Machine for the title. I think it's fitting.

Title: Kiss With a Fist

Author: Kim

Blurb: After the events of Freak Nation, Max is afraid she gave Logan the wrong idea with the whole hand holding incident. She somehow manages to talk Alec into moving in with her to keep up appearances, much to the amusement of the rest of Terminal City. As the situation with the public and the local beurocrats spirals out of control, will Max and Alec be able to keep their heads in the game?

Disclaimer: I do not assume to own the rights to Dark Angel. If I did, I would have not ended on a cliffhanger. I would not have greenlit those hideous books, and there would have been far more shirtless Alec on screen. Sigh, I disclaim.


"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Well it's not a bad one"

"I beg to differ, Max. We spend more time at each others throats than we do with our tongues down them."

"Look, are you going to help me out or not?" Max's hands were on her hips, feet slightly apart in that bitchy indignant pose she seemed to like oh so much.

"Fine, but no violence if my foot accidentally strays to the wrong side of the bed."

"What if your hand ends up on my boob?"

"I give you permission to punch. Torso only, and absolutely no nipple gripple."

"Deal. Now help me make the goddamn bed."

It was a double bed. Not a queen or king but a double. A small, cramped sleep on your back in the coffin position kind of double bed. Alec huffed and pulled the sheet set out of the backpack he had placed next to his feet.

"How exactly did you manage to procure seven hundred thread count Egyptian cotton sheets in this economy?"

"Logan wasn't going back to ye olde Fogle Towers, so I thought 'why not?' No sense in letting luxury go to waste."

Max's eyebrows raised slightly and a disapproving look came across her face. Alec just knew she was irked he hadn't bothered to grab anything Logan may have needed from his old apartment, but there was only so much one could fit in a small backpack. Besides, the linen closet was the only area in the apartment not riddled with bullet holes.

"Hey, they're for your benefit as well as mine!"

"They're king size. I'm gonna get bunches under my ass."

"Trust me, I can do fantastic hospital corners on a fitted sheet. Just be glad you're not stuck with standard issue Manticore sandpaper."

"fine, you have just volunteered for bedmaker duty."

"Well then you get bathroom duty."

"You get cooking duty."

"You get dishes duty."

There was a growl emitted from Max at the mention of doing the dishes.

"I am not doing the dishes."

"why not? I'm a better cook than you anyway!"

"You are not, what on earth gave you that idea"

"I went undercover as a chef at some senator's mansion once. Your cooking knowledge extends to instant noodles and a roast chicken without the trimmings." It was his turn to assume the huffy hand on hip stance.

"Dishes it is then," Max sighed. At least she wasn't going to be stuck with stew every night.

She wandered into the next room to inspect the bathroom, and immediately wished that she had disputed bathroom duty instead. There wasn't a spot in the entire room not covered with mold spores and the toilet was so corroded in the U bend it looked like no one had flushed the last time it was used.

"Just wonderful"


"Max, how long do you think we're going to be stuck here?" A lollipop stick was poking out of the corner of his mouth. He looked a little like a petulant child.

"In Terminal City, or living together in this apartment?" Max glanced up, an exasperated look on her face.

"Both, I guess."

"God knows how long we're going to be stuck in TC, Alec."

"What about being stuck with your bitchy ass? Should we 'break up' in a couple of weeks, or let everyone keep thinking we're doing the nasty every night?"

"There's not enough apartments in TC as it is, we're better off to just keep pretending."

"You are so mean."

Max poked her tongue out at him.

"Gee Max, real mature."


Eleven pm saw to transgenics on a beat up old couch nursing two beers. One would assume that being genetically engineered to go days without sleep, they would be ready for a quick round of breaking and entering. Perhaps a little sneak and creep through the streets of Seattle looking for some bad guy to rip off.

You could imagine the lizard like transgenic's reaction when he found the aforementioned pair not just nursing their beers, but cradling the two empty bottles like they were their own offspring. They were sound asleep, Max's cheek resting on Alec's shoulder both mouths ajar slightly. Mole snickered quietly to himself as he took a photo, making sure to forward it to all the trannies in TC who had managed to procure cellphones. This one was going on the noticeboard.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads. We've got work to do!"

The clanging of a ladle on a pot woke them with a start.


"Yes, 494, now get your ass of the couch and into the shower."

Max was rubbing her cheek where Alec's shoulder had slammed into it when he awoke. She was too late, Alec was already in the bathroom. She growled, so much for hot water.

"You gonna go take a shower with lover boy?"

"He likes the water way too hot," It was as good an excuse as any.

Five minutes later and Alec was exiting the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist smirking at Max as she gave him the death glare on the way through the door. The kissy face he made almost tipped her over the edge.

Mole smirked, as much as his leathery face would allow

"Oblivious morons."