She scooted away from him, and he did not even care. For someone who was just proving moments ago that he was all grown up, he felt like calling her mean names and maybe pulling a pigtail.

>>"Who asked you to?... Who goddamn asked you to?"

"No one, that's the freakin' point!" he snapped back "You don't have to, Maxine! You never had to! That is just how we work! Ya drive me f*** crazy, and I wait to save your ass when ya' play the same stupid ass game with other guys that would actually hurt ya when you decide ya're bored!"

News flash, Queen Maxine. Sir Gawain was, for once, truly pissed off.
Put that on Wolf News.

"Oh, right," Maxine said, shoving her hair back from her face, curling it into around her hand in quick, tight bun of sheer—

Ugh.

"Right. Because those people who broke into the Mansion and shoot you? Clearly my fault. You're completely right—I'd been out earlier in the day 'playing' with all of them, and whoops, they just followed me home." This was her 'oh shucks' face; wasn't she just the picture of contrition?

It was a good thing he was on that side of the couch. If she could get her hands on him, she would just—

Agh!

"Following your ass to Seattle to find your mother? Getting us into that warehouse? Sure, go ahead and blame me for that, too. I'm a horrible person."

Oh, was that one aimed a bit low? You don't say.

"When have I ever gotten into something I couldn't get myself out of without you riding to my rescue? I wouldn't have even been at the Mansion that night if it wasn't for you. I'd have been home—"

In her apartment, that had been demolished in the first blast. She would have never stood a chance. Minor facts; he didn't need to know that.

"You want to know the reason you died, Gawain? Because you're the hero, out to save the damsel. Maybe if you let the girl defend herself—or, here's an idea, if we worked together—maybe I won't have to leave you bleeding on the floor while I run off to save myself, because those were the hero's last heroic goddamn words to me."

"How about the next time you think about catching a bullet for me, you—oh, I don't know—give me a f***ing self defense lesson instead."

She had to stop for breath; she'd started running out, somewhere between goddamn and the end of that. So help him if he interrupted, though. So help her. The look in her green eyes clearly said she had one more thing to say, to round out the set.

"Get over your knight complex, Gawain."

>>"Oh, right. Right. Because those people who broke into the Mansion and shoot you? Clearly my fault. You're completely right—I'd been out earlier in the day 'playing' with all of them, and whoops, they just followed me home."

That was sooo beside the point. Gawain's eyes narrowed, there had to be logic in there somewhere, but they would have had to be sober to find it. In arguments, it didn't matter much anyway. Not when Maxine was on a roll.

>>"Following your ass to Seattle to find your mother? Getting us into that warehouse? Sure, go ahead and blame me for that, too. I'm a horrible person."

Ouch. She really was pulling all the stops on this one. Gawain winced at the mention of the warehouse. Maxine marched on.

>>"When have I ever gotten into something I couldn't get myself out of without you riding to my rescue? I wouldn't have even been at the Mansion that night if it wasn't for you. I'd have been home—"

Another wince. That was true. Way to make the guy feel more guilty.

>>"You want to know the reason you died, Gawain? Because you're the hero, out to save the damsel. Maybe if you let the girl defend herself—or, here's an idea, if we worked together—maybe I won't have to leave you bleeding on the floor while I run off to save myself, because those were the hero's last heroic goddamn words to me."

Well, at least she was clear on the details. Gawain dug his fingernails into his palm. Being right didn't always feel good. Well, shucks.

>>"How about the next time you think about catching a bullet for me, you—oh, I don't know—give me a f***ing self defense lesson instead. Get over your knight complex, Gawain."

She came up for air, and he dove for the pause.

"Well that would req... require you to actually see me as a grown up wouldn't it!" he snapped "The hell am I supposed to teach you self defense if I'm not worthy enough to die for your majesty!"

Well, that came out almost not blurred at all. Gawain ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.
Look at the both of us.

"Dammit, the hell am I sayin', it didn't even happen!" someone needed to point that out "It. Never. Happened! It was a freakin' dream! You ain't the queen of the Amazons, and I ain't dead, and ya can't go on believing that ya'll ever turn into that, that person, because I sure f**** hope so ya don't!"

"Not worthy enough to...? Not...? God, I could just kill you right. now." She could. She really could. She grabbed the plump fuchsia pillow from under her toosh, and launched it across the couch at his head. Liquor bottles and glasses on the table behind him be damned.

She stood up, towering at the full fury of her five-foot-six frame. With her disheveled curls, five-foot-seven. Leaning towards him on the balls of her bare feet, five-foot-eight.

"Maybe I liked being strong. Maybe I liked being able to kill idiots before they could kill the people I cared about. Just because you got your ass handed to you in the opening credits doesn't mean the rest of us didn't have to act out the movie. Why don't you just—just go back to your girlfriend. She probably died, too. You better hope she did; girls like that, the apocalypse ate alive. Go give her a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. You're so good at that."

She stormed off down the short walk between her living room and bedroom. The door slammed shut. Then open again, with a jerk that did nothing good for its hinges.

"You know what's a little more sexy than dying? Living. Asshole."

It shut again, with finality. Boys. Were. Stupid.

So were young men.

>>"Not worthy enough to...? Not...? God, I could just kill you right. now."

The pillow flew at him and Gawain ducked with ease. He was a trained superhero, even if she was ready to watch the world burn just to avoind having to admit that.

"Maybe I liked being strong. Maybe I liked being able to kill idiots before they could kill the people I cared about. Just because you got your ass handed to you in the opening credits doesn't mean the rest of us didn't have to act out the movie. Why don't you just—just go back to your girlfriend. She probably died, too. You better hope she did; girls like that, the apocalypse ate alive. Go give her a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. You're so good at that."

Ouch. Maxine just turned full frontal witch queen, and Gawain had no problem believing lesse men had wet themselves at the sight. He, on the other hand, just got even more pissed off. Flaming hair and burning eyes and nasty things to say. Most of them were mutual.

>>"You know what's a little more sexy than dying? Living. Asshole."

"B*tch." Gawain muttered, downing the rest of the bottle (there wasn't much left, it just felt manly) before he stood and walked back to the bathroom.

Well, that went splendid. Now he just had to go talk to his girlfiend.

((One very awkward and dramatic breakup thread later))

Midnight was a b*tch.
Maxine was also a b*tch.
Maya, quite frankly, felt like a b*tch.
Ami... Ami wasn't a b*tch, sadly, but she was an ex now, which is the next best thing.

Maya wondered back into Maxine's apartment bruised, broken, exhausted and already hung over. Two thumbs up for that, she decided, when she caght a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The morning after she died, she managed to have a fight with the two most important females in her life. Nothing says welcome back to reality like whiskey and broken hearts.

Talking about broken things: the pillow had hit the glasses pretty well. Maya winced as she walked over to the living room, and stopped, leaning against the back of the couch, to pick a piece out of her foot (shoes got lost in the awakening somewhere). Interestingly enough, it wasn't glass. It was a cherry stone.

"Well, screw you too." she muttered, looking over at the limp figure of Maxine on the couch. Classy. All the booze were gone and redhead had never made it to her bedroom.

This must have been her first sleep since she woke up from the apocalypse. She looked surprisingly calm. Probably from the booze. In her sleep, she also looked much less murderous. Not to mention younger. And totally wasted.

Maya returned from the bedroom a few minutes later, carrying a bundle of covers in her arms. The rest was rustling in the dark, a few muttered cursewords, and the creak of the couch under the extra weight.

Maxine only made a sound when Maya buried her nose in the red curly locks of hair and closed her eyes.

"Don't ya say a word, princess." she muttered, making sure her arm was comfortable "Don't ya f***ing dare say a word."

Maybe, if she was lucky, the world would end again before they woke up.