Snapshot · (Roswell Fanfiction) · √

6. Ears Wine and Virgins

Michael's Bedroom
Friday evening
(2002) Max is 17, Liz is 16

Liz giggled. "You have really funny ears."

Max frowned, offended. "Do not."

Liz smiled broadly, staring hard at his ears. "Yes, you do!"

"Shut up."

"They're completely sticking out of your head." She cocked her head, fascination smoothening out her facial features. "I can see the sun through them."

"Can we please not talk about my ears?"

She inched closer to him, a large smile on her face as she leaned over him where they were lying next to each other on the bed. "They're not that bad. It makes you look cute. In a funny way."

Max's eyes widened as he looked up at her with a fuzzy mind. "You're calling me cute? Cute? Don't you know that a girl should never call a guy 'cute'? Besides, do you have any idea of how many women would love to be lying where you're lying right now? Next to this handsome man."

Liz snorted. "Puhlease. Women? Right. Sluts."

"They're not sluts."

"Someone that sleeps with someone they barely know after being around them for a total of fifteen minutes is a slut."

"It's just the power of my incredible charm."

Liz laughed. "I think it's more about the fact that you're not butt ugly and the girls settle for you because they're horny and you're easy.

"So..." Max wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You don't think I'm butt ugly, huh?"

Liz looked at him incredulously. "That's what you got out of what I just said?"

Max grinned. "I think you're finally warming up to me, Parker."

Normally, she probably would have a very good comeback at this point, but the alcohol in her blood was muffling her cognitive functions.

She frowned. "Could you turn your head?"

He squinted back. "Huh?"

"Your red ears are distracting me."

"You're a mean woman, Parker."

"Oh, so now it's my fault that you have such weird ears?"

"I thought we decided to get off the ear subject."

"You decided."

"Right. So...."

"Where's Michael?"

The eternal question.

Max frowned and tried to turn his head to look at the alarm clock on the night stand. But realizing just how much effort that involved, he gave up half-way and looked back at Liz with a thoughtful expression.

"How long has he been gone?"

Liz rolled away from him onto her back and mumbled. "I have no idea."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You're asking permission? That's new."

"Is this the first time you've been drunk?"

"I'm not drunk."

"You're voluntarily lying next to me on a bed."

As if considering this, Liz paused before she answered. "That's true." Turning to face him again, she added. "You're actually not that bad when I'm drunk, Evans. You look better, somehow."