Fandom: Dark Angel
Word Count: 904
Summary: She blames Normal for all of this.
Notes: Spoilers up to episode 2:21 - Freak Nation. Written for maroon_sue for jam_pony_fic's mini-ficathon.
For the record, she blames Normal for all of this.
It takes Alec a few days to raise the issue (they've been a little busy, between learning to run an entire city and trying to make sure nobody gets killed in the process). When he does, he's got that look in his eyes like he wants something, and she waits, only slightly impatiently, for him to spit it out.
"You know," he says casually - like he hasn't been thinking about this for days, now, hasn't been waiting for the right time to broach the topic - "it was my birthday."
"It was not your birthday."
He looks a little hurt at that, which Max is pretty sure is mostly an act. "Sure it was. Said so right on my Jam Pony application form."
"Which you totally made up," she counters.
Alec just smiles. "Doesn't mean it's not my birthday. Everyone's gotta have one, right?"
Which is ... actually, not a bad point. She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Happy birthday, or whatever."
But Alec's blocking her as she moves to pass him, and she stops, taking a step back.
"It was my birthday."
"Yeah, you said, and I congratulated you already. What do you want, a lap dance?"
At the speculative look in his eyes, she sighs, shaking her head.
"Don't answer that."
"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a cake."
"You want a birthday cake?"
He shrugs. "Why not? Technically, Normal already made me one -"
"- but things got a little heated before I could actually sit down and eat it. Now, I'm not saying that was your fault, or anything -"
She gives him an impatient look.
"- but I just thought it might be nice if you made me a new one."
"You want me to bake you a cake?"
"Well, I am supposed to be your boyfriend."
"Alec." Her best warning tone, and he holds his hands up defensively.
"And we're friends, right? Friends do nice stuff for each other on their birthdays."
She's still looking at him, and he grins, leaning forward a little.
"Unless you wanted to give me that lap dance."
She sighs, and he grins wider, knowing he's won.
"Chocolate, if you can."
If she were asked, she would swear that she tried. But the cake, when it comes out of the oven, doesn't so much look like a cake as it does a vaguely cake-shaped gooey blob.
Alec's leaning against the doorway when she turns around, and she watches as he slowly surveys the scene.
"Aw, honey," he says, taking a step forward. "You baked."
She shrugs. "I tried."
To his credit, Alec barely hesitates before taking a mouthful of the cake. Even more admirably, he doesn't immediately spit it out.
"It's gross," she guesses, watching as he swallows carefully.
After a minute, he nods. "Yeah, it's gross. What did you do, make it out of spare parts?"
"It's not exactly like I could go down to the grocery store. And unless you want to ask Gem for milk -"
He grimaces, and moves the cake further along the counter. "I'll pass. But seriously, this was the best you could do?"
"Hey, if you think you could do better -"
"A blind transgenic could do better. Here, let me show you how it's done."
Max holds out her hands as she steps aside, watching as Alec searches the counter for ingredients.
"Okay, maybe I take that back. What did you put in this thing, anyway?"
"You don't want to know."
As Alec moves forward, raising a hand to her face, she steps back, tensing.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You've got some flour on your face."
"I didn't use flour," she says, but she lets him brush the white powder off her cheek, and he smiles.
"That explains the taste, then. Seriously, come here. You're covered in the stuff."
She's not quite sure exactly when cleaning her off turned into not-so-subtle groping, but she does the only thing she can do - without breaking any bones - in the situation.
She grabs the nearly-empty bag of not-quite-flour, and pours it over his head.
"Hey!" Alec jumps back, his hair turned artificially white, and she can't help grinning. He steps forward, again, and grabs her hand before she can move away. "You're going to pay for that."
"I'd like to see you try," she says, a second before something vaguely sticky descends down her shirt, and Alec smiles at her triumphantly. She shoves him back, against the edge of the counter, and hears an unmistakable squelch a he lands squarely in the cake.
"Oh," he says, wiping the back of his pants. "You're so going down."
She's not sure who moved first, after that, except that when it's over she's on the ground, Alec sprawled on top of her. Her hair is matted to her face, what remains of the cake staining her clothes, and he doesn't look much better; he's breathless, still winded from when she elbowed him (accidentally, she swears) in the stomach, and every bit as dirty as she is. He's half-smiling as he looks down at her, giving no indication he's planning to get up any time soon, and she rests her head back, gently, on the floor.
At least she could say she brought him down with her.