Complications (CC,M/L,mature) A/N - 05/08/06[WIP]
Posted: Mon Jul 12, 2004 3:47 pm

Title: The Right Way: Complications
Author: hoLLy BEHRy
Rating: MATURE
Category: Conventional Couples- Mostly Max and Liz
Disclaimer: I own nothing and I claim to own nothing. I’m borrowing from the great minds of Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and the people behind the amazing show that is Roswwell.
Summary:
Sequel to Simplicity/Beginnings. It's been two years since Max and Liz got married. Things were great for the newlyweds...in the beginning. Now it's time for the next step. Are they ready? Certainly complications will arise.
I strongly recommend that you check out Previously on Roswell. There you’ll get the gist of the first story without having to actually read the first story. It’ll get you caught up.
This is the second installment in my series, The Right Way. You don’t have to read the first story, Simplicity/Beginnings, which took place after S3's "Interruptus", but by checking out that link above, you'll be able to understand everything in this story.
Each story of the series is like a season of Roswell. So a lot of things happen in each installment; there will be different storylines, new characters, and so on. There was going to be four installments in my series, but I’ve decided to combine two and three.
Feedback always wanted and appreciated.
Author's Note: You can also check out this story by clicking, [url=htp://www.xanga.com/TRW_Complications]Complications[/url]. It's a site where I'm posting this story with music.
Book 1
Chapter 1
{Max}
“You and your damn Tabasco-frosted cupcakes,” Michael sighed. He walked into the kitchen and bent down to take a peek into the oven.
Michael always made fun of me for baking too much. I can’t help it, I love baked goods. My specialty was cupcakes, especially with my concoction of Tabasco frosting. Maria, Jesse, and Liz never liked my cupcakes topped off with the hot sauce, but Michael, Iz, and I did. I don’t know how I ever ate cupcakes without them, the frosting that is.
Currently, I was baking a whole cake. Like a bun, roast, turkey, or loaf of bread, timing is not a necessity, unless you’re off by several minutes, but timing does not have to be exact.
The cookbook says 36-38 minutes. So sometime after the 36th minute and before the 38th minute, the cake can be taken out of the oven. If you take it out a little before the 36th minute, then it’s slightly underdeveloped, but still edible. You take the cake out a little after the 38th minute and it’s slightly burnt, we’ll call it crisp. It’s still edible. I, personally, will love the cake whether it comes out early or late.
“It’s a regular cake,” I corrected, kicking the door shut in his face. “And shut up, you know you like those ‘damn Tabasco-frosted cupcakes’.”
He hopped up on the counter and laughed. “Actually, I’m not cursing your cupcakes, ‘cause you’re right, I do like ‘em, but ease up on the baking, Betty Crocker. As much as I do like finding a cupcake in my lunchbox everyday, you need to lay off the baking…for the sake of Liz,” he laughed.
“Are you insinuating that baking is just a female thing?” I asked.
“I’m just saying…” Michael chuckled.
I shook my head while wearing a grin. “Well, don’t,” I replied. “A lot of guys bake.”
Michael gave a hearty laugh and launched a baby carrot stick my way. “I’m just messing around with you, Maxwell.”
I snapped my arm in the direction the carrot was coming and caught it in my hand.
“Look,” Michael went on, “you’re falling behind on the books and inventory. I keep coming up short on cherries.”
I gave a little chuckle and hopped onto an opposite counter myself. “Maybe you should stop eating them,” I told Michael. “You’re supposed to be serving them in the drinks.”
He gave a little nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. When are you going to stop by the club? You need to voice your opinion of the renovations.”
Whits. It was the club that Michael and I started about a year ago. Michael had tried his hand at community college but dropped out a few months short of completing his first year. He said something about not being able to stand more school.
So, for a month or two, Michael moped around the house doing absolutely nothing. If Maria hadn’t threatened to leave him if he didn’t start to do anything with his life, Michael would still be sitting on his lazy ass.
According to him, he had absolutely no skills that he enjoyed. Maria had suggested woodworking, but Michael hated the idea. Michael didn’t want to work as a security guard again because he knew that he’d get stuck with graveyard shifts like at Meta-Chem. So, then came the idea of Whits.
I had remembered Michael telling me about how Hank had always made him mix up drinks. Bartending was the one skill that Michael had forgotten about and enjoyed somewhat. So, bartending was what Michael was going to look into.
For a few weeks, Michael worked at the bars (keyword being bars) near the several universities in Boston, but things didn’t sit too well since Michael hated working under someone’s hand. So, he thought of opening up his own club, some place where people could just hang out, like a Crashdown Café for people over 18 where alcohol was being served, for those over 21, of course.
Michael had intended to name the club ’47, but then he decided not to and went a different route, deciding to dub the bar Whits, an obvious tribute to Alex. While it is a painful reminder of a brother that we all lost, his memory lives on, and it’s become not so painful anymore. I know that it was a tribute to Alex, but I think Michael also named the bar after our friend for Maria, and Isabel and Liz.
A sensitive and thoughtful Michael? It was definitely a new turn, and it was all thanks to Maria. Michael denies any connection, but it really has been Maria’s patience and love for the man that changed Michael into…well, into a human.
Back to the club…Michael had come to me with a whole proposal set up. He even had poster boards with charts and pictures and everything. He had scouted possible locations, estimated costs, designed the interior and exterior, and more. Honestly, it was a damn good proposal.
So, in early 2003, I became Michael’s business partner. We found a perfect location in downtown Boston where all the college kids hung out. I bought the property and started our little business with the money that I had saved from working at Behr&Appleby. I’m glad that I made the investment; Whits was raking in more than enough money to support Maria, Michael, Liz, and me. The club’s profits were keeping us afloat.
Liz and I purchased a four bedroom home here in Cambridge a good five minutes from Harvard University where Liz was currently in the second semester of her sophomore year. Our house was only—when there was no traffic—a half an hour from B&A and maybe twenty minutes from the New England Conservatory of Music where Maria continued to attend.
Liz and I bought the home and made it the foundation of our family. As of now, our family only consisted of Michael, Maria, Liz, and I, but sometime in the future, we would have the addition of little tots. Yet, Liz and I agreed (after many arguments) that right now wasn’t the time to have those certain “additions”. She was striving at Harvard and I was still putting money into a nest egg in the bank by working at B&A, and doing my residency at Boston General Hospital.
I only had another year of residency left, but it was going to be a struggle. It was a struggle now because balancing Boston General, B&A, and Whits while spending time with Liz was hard work. To be honest, there wasn’t much “spending time with Liz” at all. I had been working too much and so had she. However, we were going to find ways to spend time with other; soon it would be our 2nd wedding anniversary.
I smiled at the thought. They had been a glorious two years with Liz, and I was excited to remember that that was how life was going to be for the rest of my life. We learned to cope with each other’s stubbornness. We found pros in each other’s cons. We acted like we were still newlyweds or those teenagers in Roswell who went out to Senor Chow’s with Michael and Maria for an always disastrous double date. And I would like to think that we’re more in love now than we were before, even despite the lack of each other due to the busy schedules we had, and I hate to admit, the arguing and fighting too.
“Well?” Michael wondered.
He woke me from my thoughts, causing me to literally wake from my daze. “What?” I asked.
“Whits, when are you going to check out how the remodeling’s going?” Michael reiterated. “I’d like some input from someone other than Maria. She won’t shut up with the pink. ‘Pink’s the new black,’ she says. I mean, come on, what the hell is that?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed. Michael and Maria were still the same Michael and Maria. The constant arguing between the two kept the household alive and always brought amusement to Liz and I whenever we felt down.
Maria still wore the promise ring Michael gave her two years ago on her right ring finger while her left ring finger remains bare. Michael’s not ready to commit, but in my opinion, he’s already committed to her and vice versa. When we all signed up for our lives as this big family, we were bound to each other, committed to each other. Still, Michael doesn’t see it or choose to see it. He won’t even room with her, but actually, that was a mutual decision between the two. So, down the hall from Liz’s and my bedroom, Michael and Maria occupy their own rooms for most of the time. At the end of the day, they usually end in one or the other’s room, but they still chose to store their clothes in different closets in different rooms.
I continued to chuckle as I hopped off the counter to check on the cake. The light in the oven reflected off the golden brown texture of the cake. Its sweet aroma filled my nose as the warm heat from the oven caused sweat to lightly blanket my forehead.
“Is it done?” Michael asked.
I reached for the oven mitt on the counter and slid the cake out and placed it on a cooling rack on the stove.
“Nice,” Michael said delightfully. “Very nice.”
I lifted my chin and gave a little nod. “Thanks,” I replied. “Would you mind setting the table?”
“Sure,” Michael said. He turned to a cupboard and started pulling out plates. “Should I set the table for three again?”
I looked at the clock on the microwave and shook my head. “No, four.”
“Are you sure?” Michael asked. “Maria said she’s working late at the library again.”
Liz was busy working on yet another paper and to make her father proud, Liz made sure that her papers got the A’s her father expected, and they did, at the expense of Liz’s free time, and time with me, specifically.
She was working damn hard. I tried my best to make it home in the evenings in the hopes that Liz would be home from class, but for a long time now, she never was. Michael or I would make dinner, and every night, Michael would set the table wondering if he should set it for three or four and I always told him four, in the off chance that Liz might make it to dinner, and for a long time now, she never would.
“I’m sure,” I replied anyway.
Michael gave me a disapproving stare and sighed heavily. “Whatever,” he grumbled under his breath as he left the room with plates and utensils in hand.
I knew that somewhere in the back of his mind, Michael believed that no one could spend as much time at the library as Liz did. He believed that maybe Liz was doing more than just writing a paper or studying.
The thought never crossed my mind. If Michael wanted to think that, then fine, but I trust my wife completely. I love her, but I’m just not exactly happy with her.
All the nights spent at the library. All the dinner’s I spent staring at an empty plate in front of an empty chair. I didn’t want to ask her to just stop working hard. Liz has worked this hard all her life to get to this point. So I was just going to have to grin and bear it. Yet, it seemed like that’s all I had been doing for the past three months.
“Something smells good,” Maria shouted. The glass door to the veranda shut and Maria made her way to the kitchen doorway. “What’s for dinner?” she asked.
“Baked ziti, garlic bread, garden salad, and cake for dessert,” I replied, pointing to each item of food laid out on the counter.
Maria rose an eyebrow. “Tabasco frosting?”
I shook my head and started carrying the food to the dining room with Maria following close behind.
“Good,” she sighed in relief.
Michael placed the last plate down and then greeted his girlfriend with a kiss. “Can we eat?”
I looked to Maria, wondering whether or not Liz would come home anytime soon. She shook her head and took a seat. I knew that was going to be the answer, but I had to have some hope, right?
I sighed heavily as I took a seat.
“So, what’d you do today?” Maria asked Michael.
Michael gave a little shrug as I let my eyes drift to the empty plate.
<center>*~*</center>
“Maxwell…? Hey, Maxwell…”
I slowly blinked my eyes all the way open and found myself staring Michael in the face. “What?” I grumbled slowly pushing myself up off the couch.
“Go to bed,” Michael replied.
I gave my eyes a little rub and looked out the windows and saw nothing but the darkness. “What time is it?” I wondered.
“A little after midnight. Go to bed.”
I gave an exhausted sigh and looked at the ceiling. “Is Liz home?”
When I looked back at Michael, he stared down at the floor and shook his head. “Not yet,” he said softly.
I brushed past Michael and headed up the circular staircase in the family room that led upstairs to the back hallway/gallery. The hallway/gallery was a walkway that ran along the walls, and so it was open to the family room below.
Our home was the first house we looked at. The moment we stepped through the front door, Liz knew that this was the one. Pricey, but absolutely perfect. She’s the one who coined the term, “the foundation of our family” and she, Maria, and Isabel would talk about raising kids together.
While Maria still lived with us, Isabel and Jesse bought the house just across the street. No kids for them yet, but they were trying. We didn’t want to believe that their inability to have children was due to the fact that one part of the couple was human and the other part was half-human, half-alien. So we all just believed that the two of them were trying at the wrong time. We all had to be optimistic.
Liz always talked about kids with Maria and Isabel, especially since Valenti and the former Ms. DeLuca had a beautiful little girl, but the moment the issue was brought up between her and me, she wanted to drop it. Nearly three months ago we had a huge blow up about children and when to have them. It was the source of most of our fights. We haven’t had many, but I’m not saying we’re the perfect couple.
Nearly three months ago we had a huge blow up about children and when to have them. It was the biggest fight we had. She had said that right now wasn’t the right time while I had to disagree. Eventually, I just caved in and let her have the last word, and thus, we both agreed that we wouldn't make any additions to the family quite yet, and we haven't talked about it since.
Three months ago…That’s about the same time she had started working late nights at the library. Maybe there was some truth to what Michael believed.
I sat up in bed pondering the possibility when I heard a car door slam shut. The heavy, wooden front door slid open and keys jingled. I could tell they were Liz’s keys because I knew the song that her keys made when they hit each other.
The front door was closed and locked as quietly as possibly. Hardwood flooring covered most of downstairs, yet, I could not hear steps made. Liz must have taken off her shoes. I could picture her journey up to our room. Up the carpeted main staircase she went and then past Maria’s bedroom, and then Michael’s. I could hear her feet shuffle when she got closer to our room, and soon, she was at the door, carefully trying to open it without making a noise. I was already awake and so there really was no point of her trying.
“Hi,” I said succinctly.
The door froze for a brief moment and then was pushed all the way open so that Liz could walk in. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” she replied.
“I was already awake,” I told her. “I couldn’t sleep.”
I watched as she walked into the bedroom. Though she was in the darkness, she knew her way around, narrowly missing a chair, an ottoman, my dresser, and my desk.
After emerging from her closet, Liz climbed into bed and curled up against me, resting her head on my chest. “Well, you can sleep now,” she said. “I’m home and you don’t have to worry about a thing.”
I gave a little nod and kissed the top of her head. “How’s the paper coming along?”
“What?” Liz wondered.
“Your paper,” I repeated. “You’ve been at the library a lot lately, working on another paper. You were at the library, right?”
Liz quietly yawned. “Oh, right,” she replied. “Yeah, I was at the library. I worked until it closed.”
“You must have,” I said. “You smell like coffee.”
Liz nodded. “Yup, drank lots of coffee. I think I might as well own stock in Starbucks or something.”
“You shouldn’t work too hard,” I told her.
There was no reply.
“Liz?” I said. “Liz…?”
I peered over her head to find her fast asleep.