Okay how about maybe one about their drive home after the kiss, I know not very exciting but could be cute :)
Linger
This is the second time Max and Liz have ridden together in Michael’s battered-but-smooth-engined truck today.
Everything’s changed this time around.
This morning, the mood between them had been tense, even despite their conversation at the motel. Max knew he was mostly responsible for that—Liz had been nothing but friendly towards him the day before, and all but forgiven him when they spoke at the swings. Yet he couldn’t help waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, not really, and it was only further proof in his mind that Liz was a better person than he ever had a hope of being with. She was far beyond his reach, and he needed to heed her words about them not being meant for each other, and let her stay at arms’ length.
The exhaustion hadn’t helped, but she’d insisted on driving so he could rest. He couldn’t blame her—no amount of caffeine was going to keep him alert enough for the road, and the tension between them only served as a further distraction. But despite his uneasiness about letting her behind the wheel of Michael’s baby (he never needed to know), and despite every unresolved issue between them, his feigned sleep had soon slipped into real sleep. Her presence had acted as an antidote to Isobel’s absence.
If only he could rely on that for more than one brief roadtrip.
But now—now. That didn’t seem so impossible.
He’s driving this time, for the much briefer journey. Back from the caves into Roswell. There’s no tension between them, just an intense giddiness. He can’t keep a grin off his face, and when he glances at Liz from the corner of his eye, apparently neither can she.
He can still taste her, still feel her mouth moving against his. She must have it worse: his stubble has left its mark, and he’s oddly proud of that. It proves he’s not daydreaming and everyone will know she’s been kissed like she’s meant to be.
She catches his eye in the rearview mirror, cocking an eyebrow as she smiles, soft and radiant. The road’s completely clear; he lets the truck roll to a stop so he can lean over and kiss her again. She’s still smiling as he does it.
He hopes she never stops smiling.
“What was that in aid of?” she asks.
“Because I can,” he replies with a shrug. Then thinks better of it. “I mean—I can? That’s okay?”
She laughs, and it doesn’t make him feel foolish. The sound is full of the affection he feels for her. “It’s okay,” she reassures him. “I enjoy you kissing me.”
“Good,” he murmurs, leaning in to do it again.
He starts the engine, wondering if his body can actually physically contain all of this happiness. There are still problems to deal with—Isobel, for a start—and mysteries to unravel. They haven’t discussed what her kissing him means beyond kissing, because their mouths were too busy, but for once Max is fine with just living in the moment. When the moment’s as incredible as this one, it seems foolish wishing it away for an uncertain future.
All-too-soon they reach the city limits, but it’s not enough to break his effervescent mood.
“You want dropping off at home?” he asks her.
“Yeah, I need to shower before I head back to work to check on the samples. Can’t go in looking like, well—”
“Like?”
“Like I drank too much tequila, didn’t sleep, and then spent an hour making out in the desert. Gotta try to cover up the stubble burn somehow.”
It’s his turn to laugh. “Just think of what Maria looks like today. If she didn’t sleep in her truck—”
“Then she slept in the desert. With Michael. I know. Dear God, I know.”
The Crashdown looms into view, and it’s his chance to ask when he’ll see her again. To try and pin this down, to make firm plans or more declarations, but he doesn’t. He decides to let it be.
He’s sure they’ll find their way back to each other soon enough. It’s not that he’s become a hoping man—he just knows. Because nothing felt as right as holding her. For now, that’s all the evidence he needs.
