Banner Artist: Me
Title: Not Another Christmas Story
Author: Chad
Disclaimer: The characters of Roswell do not belong to me. I’m just barrowing them for the holidays. No infringement intended.
Rating/Category: Mature/ML+CC/AU without aliens
Summary: Max Evans learns the meaning of Christmas. (Lame
I know. lol. Okay, for real) A condescending contemporary columnist and stanch realist, Max has a bit of trouble when it comes to seeing the true magic of Christmas. But this year he'll get a little help from a most intriguing source: A little lady named Liz Parker. After this whirlwind Christmas, Max will probably never be the same. And hey, maybe that isn’t such a bad thing. 
AN: I know it’s late, but this year I really wanted to write a Christmas fic. With the craziness of the holidays plus my anniversary being on Christmas Eve, (Three years and she hasn’t killed me yet! Yahoo!
) I didn’t really have time to write a story before Christmas actually got here. Now that all the chaos is over, here is a short holiday fic for all of you. This story was originally going to be called “Merry Christmas Max” but I saw that there was another fic out there that already had that title. Since I try to avoid stepping on toes whenever I see bare feet, I changed the title to “Not Another Christmas Story” instead. I think it’s for the better. The new title fits the story a lot better than the first one. Happy Holidays to everyone!
~Chad~
** CHAPTER ONE **
…Santa Claus kills me. He really does. ~Chad~
** CHAPTER ONE **
Not only is the man like a gazillion years old, yet still manages to get around better than any man in his early twenties, we’re supposed to believe that he’s able to successfully defy the laws of physics, space, and time all in one night. And if that weren’t enough, he’s got to be the only man on the planet that can get away with dressing like a pimp and calling people hussies, without getting the shit kicked out of him.
Yeah, yeah, get offended if you want. All I’m saying is if it wears white fur and calls you a ho-ho-ho… but apparently I’m the one that’s out of line.
It’s not that I have anything against good old Saint Nick. He seems like an okay guy. Upstanding, moral, charitable: all good qualities if you’re into giving, humanities, and that sort of thing. Christmas, however is another story all together. Well, let me rephrase that. It’s not the actual holiday that’s the problem. It’s all the extra stuff that comes with it. Sure, Christmas is a great holiday, but let’s face it, it comes with more baggage than an airport security line. There are Christmas trees, Christmas decorations, Christmas music, Christmas carolers, Christmas presents, and those God awful Christmas movies. They litter every channel at every hour for every day in the month of December leading up to Christmas.
Frankly, I just don’t get it. Do I really need to see Frosty come to life five times on four different channels? Is there any chance that red nosed Rudolph, in all his “Claymation glory”, isn’t going to guide Santa’s sleigh tonight? Why are people so crazy for Christmas movies? What exactly is it that makes us continually watch Clark Griswold stuff a three story tree in his two story house year after year, or see little Ralphie try to convince everyone that a Red Ryder BB gun is the perfect gift?
Eggnog perhaps? Or maybe it’s one of the side effects of too much fruit cake. I sure as hell haven’t figured it out.
Whatever the reason, there is undeniably something about Christmas that has people around the country glued to their television sets every year while Ebenezer Scrooge is haunted by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, and sitting on the edge of their seats watching black and white George Bailey find out what life would be like without him.
And for what? To assuage the uncontrollable desire Christmas creates in people to bring on the warm and fuzzies? Or are Christmas movies yet another way of shouting to the world: “Hey, it’s Christmas! Go out and spend money on things you probably can’t afford for people you probably don’t really like!” If so, then we needn’t worry. Wal-Mart has that message covered…
Maria Deluca stopped reading and put down the newspaper she was holding in her hands. She looked across the table to her friend, Max Evans, who was idly sipping a cup of coffee while he waited patiently for her to finish reading the article. The two of them were sitting in a corner booth at his favorite coffee house.
“This is it?” Maria tossed the paper across the table at Max. “This is your Christmas article? Calling Santa a pimp and bashing Christmas movies?”
Max shrugged. “My editor liked it enough.”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Your editor is a jerk, and so are you. Jesus Max, I’m surprised you didn’t go after the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy too.”
Max arched a brow. “Actually if you skip down to the last paragraph…”
“Max!”
“Kidding,” he said, reaching for the paper. “Maria, I don’t know what you’re getting so sensitive about. It’s not like anything I said in this article isn’t true.”
Maria sighed. “I know being offensive and condescending is kind of your thing,” she said, emphasizing the word “thing” in air quotes. “But this time you’re ragging on peoples’ holiday spirit. It’s insulting.”
“I’m always insulting.”
“That’s no excuse to be a jack ass.”
Max looked surprised. “Wait, wait, I need an excuse for that now?” he asked in complete seriousness. “Does that mean I can’t still be a jerk without having a good reason?”
Maria laughed. “Shut up. You are so not funny. What are your parents going to say when they read this, or your sister? You know how much Isabel loves Christmas.”
Max just laughed, “I’m sure my dad will get a good laugh out of it. And my mother learned to stop reading my column a long time ago.”
“And what about your sister?”
He shrugged uncaringly. “She already knows I’m a jack ass.”
Maria shook her head disapprovingly. “You know, she probably watches all of the movies you rag on in this article faithfully every year.”
“Well if that’s true maybe Isabel needs to straighten out her Christmas priorities,” Max answered. He took another sip of his coffee. In that moment he looked as if he could not have cared less what Santa himself thought of the piece he’d written, let alone his big sister.
That was just the way Max was. He’d built a reputation as a cynical, sarcastically contemptuous voice that said exactly what he thought, wrote exactly what he felt, and had a knack for offending just about everyone over almost anything. For the most part, his reputation was not undeserved. He was good at what he did, good enough to have his own column in a major newspaper. And he definitely enjoyed doing it.
Max’s column, “Maxed Out” was one of the most widely read in the city. Containing a large following of lovers and haters, the subjects of his articles varied, but they were all generally focused on his personal, and somewhat over the top opinions about whatever happened to be going on in the world. There was even a website dedicated to “Maxed Out” MaxedOut.com were readers could post suggestions for topics they wanted to hear Max’s opinion on, post their own opinions about his articles, or just fight like children over issues with people that disagreed with them. The website was uncensored so the third tended to happened a lot.
Maria eyed Max despairingly from across the table. The two of them had been good friends since high school, so she was no stranger to his blasé attitude regarding the things he wrote in his articles, and how they might affect people. It was all part of what made him Max. Still, sometimes she wished he would come off as a just tiny bit less cold.
She picked up her cup and blew on her steaming hot chocolate. “You couldn’t have just written a nice little article about the wonders and joys of the holiday?”
Max laughed, “And disappoint all of my loyal readers? Maria, trust me, I’m not the first person to badmouth Christmas, and I won’t be the last. Besides, half the people that read my articles only read them to see if they can find something they can take offense to. They’re social brain farts that just need something to get their panties in a twist about. I think by now they’ve learned what not to expect from me. I definitely know what to expect from them. I’ve reached a point where everything I say is going to be too far. And you know what? That’s fine by me.”
Maria didn’t agree with him, but she knew Max well enough to know that she wasn’t the one that was going to change him. “You’re some kind of something, Max. You’re telling me you don’t feel even a little bad about this?” She pointed to the paper still sitting on the table.
Max shook his head. “Why should I? It’s just my opinion, Maria and I’m only one man. It’s not like I’ve ‘stolen Christmas’”
Maria shook her head. “No, you’re much more of a Scrooge character than a Grinch.”
“Ba humbug,” he retorted mockingly, before taking another sip of his coffee.
With another disapproving shake of her head in Max’s direction, Maria gathered up her gloves and scarf, as well as her cup of hot chocolate, and rose from the table. “Fine, be that way if you want to, but don’t blame me when Santa leaves you nothing but a lump of coal for Christmas.”
Max shrugged indifferently. “I think Santa engraved my name on his naughty list a long time ago, but thanks for your concern.”
Maria laughed. “And on that sadly pathetic note, I’ve got to head out.”
“Where are you off too?”
“I’m meeting Michael. We still have some Christmas shopping to do before this storm rolls in. The roads are supposed to get really slick and I do not want to be caught in that mess.”
Max looked at her strangely. “You’re meeting Michael?”
“Yes.”
“To go Christmas shopping?”
“Yes.”
“Michael Christmas-is-a-scam, Guerin?” he clarified unbelievingly.
Maria just laughed. Michael Guerin, her boyfriend, was probably worse than Max when it came to badmouthing Christmas. However, unlike Max, Maria knew Michael was mostly full of hot air. “Michael whines about Christmas commercialism, but at the end of the day he knows what side his bread is buttered on.” She smiled confidently.
Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. “Meaning he knows you’ll kick his ass if he tries to skimp on the gifts,” he surmised.
She smiled proudly, “Exactly.”
Max lifted his glass to her. “Well…have fun with that.”
“I won’t, but thanks.” She finished tying up her scarf. “Are you going to be here much longer?”
He nodded, taking out his laptop and placing it on the table top. “For a while. I need to tweak next week’s article.”
“Oh, is this the one where you discuss the joys of kicking puppies and eating cheeseburgers in front of starving children?” Maria teased.
“Har-har-har, aren’t you a laugh and a half.”
“Why don’t you just work at your place?”
Max shuddered at the idea. “My across the hall neighbor is moving out, and decided that he and his buddies should make as much noise as they possibly can while they drag his crap out of the building.”
“Awe,” Maria pouted. “Chino is moving out? I really liked him.”
Max arched a curious brow at her. “Okaaay, and I’m not even going to ask why you know his name. Chino huh? Funny I just call him B6.”
Maria put her hands on her hips. “Max, he’s been living across the hall from you for four years. I can’t believe you don’t even remember his name.”
“Well damn Maria, excuse me for not giving a shit. It’s a loft, not a house. I don’t exactly go knocking on his door to barrow cups of sugar.” Not that he was the type of guy that would ever go to a neighbor for sugar. Hell, he hated asking for a car jump.
“We went to his 25th birthday party last year,” Maria reminded him.
Max looked up from his computer. “That was a birthday party? I thought it was a drunken orgy.”
Maria groaned. “Max, I swear to God you are hopeless.” She reached over and ruffled his hair for good measure.
Max batted her hand away. “Come on, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Alright, I’m leaving.” She started to walk away but then turned back to him. “Oh, Isabel told me to remind you that we’re all meeting at her and Alex’s place on Christmas Eve for dinner.”
Max let out an annoyed sigh. He’d only been reminded of that by his sister just a little over a hundred times since Thanksgiving. “Maria, do me a favor. Tell my sister that if I don’t show up at her house on Christmas Eve, she can just assume that I’ve either been murdered, or I’ve killed myself.”
Maria smacked him across the head.
“Ouch! Violence much?” Max scowled at her as he rubbed his sore head.
Instead of apologizing, Maria sent him a look of aggravation. It was a look he was used to being on the receiving end of.
He sighed in defeat. “Just tell her I’ll be there.”
“Much better.” She nodded approvingly before leaning down to kiss him on the spot on the top of his head where she had just smacked him. “Later baby.”
Max waved her off. “Tell Michael I said I’m sorry,” he called out to her as she headed towards the door.
“Kindly shut up, Max!” she called back.
Max laughed quietly to himself and went back to working on his article. With any luck he could get it finished and scent to his editor before the storm hit. Stuck in the midst of an ice blizzard wasn’t exactly his ideal way of spending the evening, but he wasn’t concerned. The article was almost finished. He just needed to fix a few things here and there. Since it was the holiday season, a time when most people were preparing to go on vacation, the paper was practically obsessed with getting as many articles in before deadline as possible. Since this was the middle of Max’s third year writing his column, he had previous experience with the Christmas rush that overcame the paper around this time of year.
Frankly, it was a little annoying being rushed to deliver something so quickly after his last article, but he wasn’t going to go crying about it.
So concentrated was he on perfecting his latest article: his answer to a group of particularly profanity infused reader responses he’d received on one of his articles from earlier in the month, he didn’t even notice when a strange woman slid into the booth beside him. That is to say he didn’t notice her until she leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Pretend like you know me.” Her voice was soft and the scent of strawberries filled his nose when she leaned into him.
Max was momentarily distracted by the scent, but it took him only a few seconds to clear his head again. “Excuse m–,” he started to say, but she cut him off by boldly placing her hand over his mouth.
“Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly. When she spoke she smiled up at him as if he were someone special she hadn’t seen in a long time. Then she did something else unexpected. Letting the hand covering his mouth slide up into the mass of his hair, she lifted her other hand and pulled him closer to her.
Then she kissed him.
Max was completely thrown off. The logical part of him, his brain, was screaming at him to push this insanely audacious woman away from him as quickly as possible. But the male part of him, his body, recognized soft lips, sweet breath, and a sensually sinful tongue that knew exactly how to tangle with his. They were all the components of a kiss that was just out of this world enough to get him, Max Evans, to stop thinking.
The kiss was phenomenal. She teased his lower lip with her teeth, nipping playfully at it, just before her tongue darted inside his mouth to dance with his like hers was its perfect partners, flowing and retreating to and from his mouth. Her lips pressed against his with just enough pressure, and her hands in his hair tilted his head just the way she wanted it, making every second of the kiss an absolute explosion of delight in his mouth.
Too soon, Max felt her pull away from him, turning her head slightly to the right as she did so. He was more than a little dazed from the sudden onslaught of sensation to his oral senses, but that didn’t keep him from noticing that it looked as if she were checking to see if someone was watching.
Sure enough, someone was watching. Max didn’t know when, but another man had joined their little party. He stood across the table, hovering over them like a dank rain cloud over a hot summer day, and he did not look pleased.
“Kyle!” the woman sitting beside Max – scratch that, she was now practically sitting in his lap, gasped in shock, as if she were surprised by the male’s sudden appearance at their booth. Still there was something in her tone, Max noticed, a little too much shock, which told him she wasn’t as surprised to see the man standing over them as she wanted him to believe. Though she had ended their kiss, her hands were still placed very intimately against the side of his face while she addressed the man. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you. What are you doing here?” she asked innocently.
The man stared angrily down his nose at the two of them. “Who is this?” he asked nudging his chin in Max’s direction.
Max, who was still unable to speak after the kiss she’d just laid on him, could only stare down at her silently.
“This is Nathan,” she answered smoothly off the top of her head. As she spoke she let her hand trail strategically down the side of Max’s cheek to caresses familiarly against his neck.
Max had to hand it to her. There wasn’t the slightest pause between the man’s question and her answer to indicate that she actually had no idea what his real name was. Even though the two of them had just engaged in a fierce lip lock in the middle of a public coffee house.
Kyle glared openly at him before turning his attention back to her. “We need to talk, Liz.” he said, choosing to simply ignore Max for now.
Max continued to watch silently as the woman, Liz, looked down at the table. “I told you I’ve moved on, Kyle. I’m in a relationship now. There is nothing left to say.”
Those words seemed to do nothing but piss Kyle off even more than he already was. Enough so that he actually reached out and snatched Liz’s arm, yanking her up from the seat. “I’m not done talking,” he said angrily.
That got Max on his feet as well. He may not have known this woman from Eve, but he wasn’t going to let some loser she was obviously done with disrespect him by manhandling her right in front of him. Even if he wasn’t actually her boyfriend. “I suggest you let go of her arm, right now,” he warned calmly.
Kyle didn’t turn his attention away from Liz, who was still struggling to release herself from his grip. “This is between the two of us,” he said, speaking more to Liz herself. “I suggest you tell your friend to butt out.”
Liz tried unsuccessfully to yank her arm away from Kyle’s firm hold. “Kyle,” she started to tell him to release her this very instant, but she stopped when her fake boyfriend suddenly stepped between her and her old one.
“I said let her go,” he repeated venomously. “I won’t ask you again.”
This time Kyle did look at Max. Never one to back down from a challenge, he smiled maliciously at the man that had dared to stand between him and his girl. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?”
Max sighed. He preferred not to fight in public places. It was definitely one of the easiest ways to get banned, or worse, arrested, which would suck since he really liked this place. It was the only place close enough to his loft where he could get a decent black coffee. But this Kyle guy was clearly intent on becoming his new nemesis, and Max was more than prepared to kick some ass if he needed to. He faced Kyle directly. “If you don’t let go of her arm, you might just have to lose yours.”
With his attention focused so intently on “Nathan”, Liz was finally able to wrench her arm free of Kyle’s hold. This time it was she that stepped between the two men. She stood facing Kyle, poking him square in the middle of the chest. “Kyle, you need to leave right now,” she ordered sharply. Her tone was harsher than either of the two men’s had been. When Kyle still made no move to leave, Liz gave him a hard push in the direction of the door. “Now.” she repeated.
Kyle stared angrily between his Liz and her new “boyfriend” as he started walking backwards towards the door. “This isn’t over,” he said glaring at the man standing so erectly behind her. Then he looked down at Liz. "With us either,” he promised. And with those last cryptic words, he turned around and left the coffee shop.
Liz let out a sigh of relief. Luckily, since they were in a relatively secluded corner of the coffee shop, none of the other patrons seemed to have noticed the scene that had just taken place between the three of them. She turned around to face her new knight in shining armor and smiled appreciatively up at him. “Thank you, so much for that. If there is anything I can do to repay you–”
“Answer this one question for me,” Max cut off before she could finish.
“Sure anything,” she said.
He folded his arms across his chest, leaned lazily against the side of the booth, and glared down at her. “Who the hell are you?”
** TBC **
