FanFic - Crashdown After Hours
Part 7
by jezebel
Disclaimer: Me no own.
Summary: Aw, come on. You must know by now.
Category: After Hours
Rating: NC-17
While they stayed at the cabin, Liz planned out their new lives. She was Marjorie, now. Max had rolled his eyes in distaste when she told him the name, but she had liked it since childhood when she read it in a book. She christened him Ben. They were Ben and Marjorie, 18-year-old newlyweds from Tuscon. Marjorie's parents were divorced and living across the country, and Ben was recently orphaned. Both were only children. Max looked pained when she told him that detail, but she couldn't avoid it. She didn't want people questioning their identity, and why such young kids never had anyone visit them.

They were just about out of money. Liz had spent the last of it on underwear, jackets and food. While she was finally able to cook some decent food, she questioned where their money would be coming from from now on.

The next day Max went into town and brought almost three thousand dollars in cash back. Liz's mouth dropped open. "Where did that come from?"

"Izzy's bank account. I closed it out."

"What-how did you do that?"

"We had co-accounts. One that was officially hers, and one that was officially mine. I figured she won't be using hers anymore, anyway."

"Oh," she said. She would never question his resources again.

That night, she made spaghetti. It was the two-week anniversary of their abandonment of Roswell. Liz made decent spaghetti, although cooking had never been her strong point. Max came home from a long walk to smell the sauce.

"Got any tabasco?"

"Umm-hmm," she said, holding up a small bottle. "But why do you want it on spaghetti?"

"Not on the spaghetti," he said. "On this." He produced a container of strawberry ice cream from the freezer.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Yuck."

"Well, you don't have to have any. But I promise, it's really good."


Two hours later, he was pouring tabasco on her bare stomach and licking it off. She giggled helplessly.

"Why are you laughing?"

"It tickles!"

"Here," he said, handing her the sauce. "Try it. I promise, it's good."

She looked at him, doubting that it would taste all that good to her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! Trust me!"

Hesitantly, she poured it onto his bare stomach. She turned her head to get closer, and felt the incredible post-coital heat that flowed off him every time they made love. He was on fire.

She touched her tongue to the spicy sauce lightly, feeling it burn her tongue. Combined with the taste of Max's skin, it was an amazingly good feeling. She finished the small patch she had poured on him and reached for the bottle.

Max laughed. "Now do you know why I like it?"

"You're not ticklish," she said, frowning.

"Nope," he said. "Never have been. But you are," he said, reaching for her bare stomach. His fingers brushed it teasingly and she jumped away, laughing helplessly.

"Don't!" she shrieked. She jumped off the bed onto the floor, trying to avoid stepping in the empty ice-cream box.

"You're not getting away," Max said, jumping after her and pouncing. They both fell and he landed heavily on top of her.

"I guess not," Liz admitted, shifting under his weight and noticing a lump pressing against her leg. "Can't outrun an alien with a hard-on. I'll have to mention that to Topolsky."

"Oh, shut up," Max said, and kissed her.


They lay comfortably together on the huge mattress that overwhelmed the master bedroom of the cabin. Max was sleeping, his arm thrown around Liz's waist. Liz couldn't sleep, so she stared at the stars. They were unobscured by the lights of civilization and breathtakingly beautiful.

Suddenly, she saw a flash of bright light soaring through the sky. She almost sat up, and then remembered Max. It was only a shooting star. She had just never seen one that bright before.

Max mumbled something in his sleep that sounded to her like, "Liz, baby..." He moved his hand possessively over her stomach, and she felt a twinge inside of her. It wasn't an aroused twinge, simply a gentle, safe one. One that told her she was home. And reminded her of possibilities.

"Someday, Max," she said softly. "When it's safe."

She turned her head to look at her purse, which contained her container of birth-control pills. They were nearly gone. She wasn't sure where she could get a prescription without seeing a doctor who would question her age and her identity. Marjorie was eighteen, after all, but she didn't have a driver's license or a birth certificate to prove it. Liz reminded herself that she'd have to see about finding some good fake ID. She knew it would be expensive, but the expense would certainly be worth it.


They set out toward Elk Grove the next day. Liz drove.

"All right, so where are we from?"

Max squinted. "Tuscon."

"Don't hesitate. You can't think about it. What are my parents' names?"

"Why would I have to know this?"

"Just humor me!"

"Uh...Robin and Joseph Gaines."

"Yup. Hesitation is good on that one. Okay, so repeat our story to me."

"We're Ben and Marjorie Markham. My parents died recently, in a car crash, but yours didn't want us to get married. So we eloped to Nevada. Now we know your parents will kill us if they found out, so we're staying low for a while."

"Good. Ummm...what was your dog's name when you were four?"

"What? Who's going to want to know that?"

"I'm just teasing, Max. You never know."


Max had called ahead, so the real estate agent had several apartments for them to look at. She claimed all of them were within the price range of under three fifty a month. The first one they saw seemed too good to be true. It was shiny-clean, four rooms, and a gorgeous bathroom. Then they discovered why the rent was so low. As they investigated the bedrooms, a train roared by right next door. It didn't stop, but instead continued at full speed straight out of town. The windows rattled and the sound was loud enough to deafen.

Liz gave the real estate agent a dirty look. The agent gulped. "Let's move on to the next one, shall we?"

The next one was unbelievably dirty. Liz estimated that it hadn't been cleaned in a decade. The grime and the cockroaches were positively disgusting. Max refused to even set foot inside.

"No way. We can do better than that."

The agent looked guilty again and they headed to the last apartment on the list. One of the disadvantages of going to a small town was that there was no choice in apartment buildings. "This is the last one," the realtor told them.

Max and Liz looked at each other and shrugged. If there was nothing here, they could always move on.

But when the agent opened the door on the tiny one-room apartment, they knew it was home. Big enough for a bed, a television and a refrigerator, it cost only three hundred a month. It was clean and seemed to be mostly free of large insects.

"So what do you think?"

Max and Liz looked at each other. "We'll take it," they said.

Index | Part 8
Max/Liz | Michael/Maria | Alex/Isabel | UC Couples | Valenti | Other | Poetry | Crossovers | AfterHours
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