By Joy
E-mail: jbuchkow@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Catching up with Max and Liz in a parallel No Difference backstory.
September 1, 2003
We pause for a typical students' dinner of pizza and wings, mine mild and his honey garlic with Tabasco added, and I survey the beginnings of our home. We are seated on the floor, since we haven't reassembled our table yet, and a roll of paper towels make do as our plates and napkins. Boxes yet to be opened surround us like a child's fort, but since Labor Day is so late this year, we have a full week to get settled in before classes resume. I catch him grinning at me, a full-fledged, care-free grin that I so rarely see.
"What?"
"You have sauce on your chin," he keeps grinning. I reach for a paper towel, a blush spreading across my cheeks even as my grin matches his own. He stops me with a hand on my own, and leans across the already small distance between us to delicately lick it off himself. His mouth then slides up to mine, and my mild deliciously mingles with his spicy sweetness. We finally surface for air, and I sigh before pushing him gently away.
"We'll never get moved in here if we keep this up!" I gather up the remains of our dinner, and head to the small kitchenette to put the leftovers in our nearly empty fridge.
"I suggest we take a break from the living area, then, and move on to the bedroom!" he follows behind me with his bottle of cherry cola and my sprite. I can't help but giggle.
"Max!" He affects a look of innocence. I once thought that it wasn't possible to love him anymore than I already did, but he proves me wrong each and every day. Not that I mind, of course.
I pretend to be exasperated as I take his hand and lead him to the larger of the two small rooms off our living area that we've designated as our bedroom. The other we plan on using as a study, and already have both of our desks crammed in there as well as our bookcases. This one has a view of the back garden and the early morning sunrise. I can't wait to wake up before him tomorrow and watch the golden rays caress his perfect face.
Our bed is still in it's original box, one of the few new pieces of furniture that we purchased before moving in. Unlike Maria and Michael, though, we didn't happen across one at a local antique store, but did the usual ‘us' thing by poring through catalogues for the best prices, the one that would be a good investment. We did this from my dorm room late this past spring, procrastinating for finals, and it had seemed like such a long time to wait to have a real bed to ourselves, and not the narrow, school-issued bunks we currently made do with. Not that making do every really crossed either of our minds when would spend the night at each other's room, thankful that we didn't have roommates.
I stop my thoughts from straying any further from the task at hand, and move to help my love with the box, though he has already gotten it open, not requiring any scissors, of course.
"Show off," I gently tease him.
We work well together, as always, and our bed is assembled with very little difficulty. I find the box with the new sheets Maria has sent us, complete with a playful note on how to use said sheets, and we each take a side to make the bed up. We settle our respective pillows at the top, I lay the quilt that was Grandma Claudia's on top, and we stand back to admire our work. We have placed the bed in the corner, under the eaves, so we can watch the sunrise, and it looks like it was made to go there. Our dressers stand opposite each other in the other two corners, and a braided rug that Maria passed on to me from her mom adorns the floor. My eyes are drawn to the screen that stands by the closet, made of a soft cherry that we ordered our bed in to match. It was a gift to both of us from Michael, and I absently wander over to it. The screen is constructed with numerous panes in it, and these are filled with pictures that Michael has taken of us. Max and I at our high school graduation, on the road- trip afterwards, last Christmas here in California, even a few from our last year of high school. The very centre one is a
snapshot of the eight of us, at Maria and Michael's housewarming in June. What my life would be like if things hadn't gone the way they did that fateful September day four years ago, I don't want to even speculate about.
I feel his wonderfully warm lips caress my temple, and I turn to hug him as close as I can. He holds me just as close, resting his chin on my hair.
"Have I told you yet today how much I love you, Liz Parker?" He slides a hand to my jaw and tilts my face up to his. It is becoming quite dark, but that can never hide the light he has in his eyes for me and me alone.
"I'm not sure, maybe you'd better tell me again, just in case," I coyly joke, and I see a flash of his white teeth before he is kissing me again. I pull away before my knees can grow too weak, and pretend to be impatient.
"Well?" He takes my hand and tugs me towards the bathroom, ever the conscientious one.
"Come help me clean off the grime from moving, and I'll do better than tell you," he snags a towel from an open box as we go by.
"Oh really?" I let him remove my clothes, and assist him with his in return. He nods his affirmation as he pulls me close under the warm spray of the water.
"I'll show you."
I think I'm going to like having our own apartment, though we'll have to have a discussion about who cleans up after all this water we're getting on the floor.
The End