My Feral

9

Forgoing breakfast and a shower, Max drives straight to Slit's bakery, Shine Cakes, for a coffee and motivation to grow a pair.

Pulling into the small parking lot at the back of the bakery, Max kills the engine and then just....sits there. His knee is aching worse than it has in a while, prompting him to kind of frantically search through the glovebox for pain pills.

Aaaaand....no such luck. Of course.

Grimacing, he nearly falls out of the car and limps into the bakery.

When Max walks into the bakery, Slit greets him first with a look of surprise, and then with a finger to his pursed lips.

After Max cocks his head to the side questioningly, Slit gestures to a padded bench along one wall where Furiosa is sound asleep under a faded red comforter.

Nodding, Max reaches up and silences the bell above the door.

Wiping his floury hands on his apron, Slit comes around the counter and takes Max in.

"You look like shit," he says matter-of-factly.

Grunting in what could be either an affirmation or a 'fuck you,' Max allows himself to be led over to the counter.

Slit pretends not to notice how stiffly Max walks, or how he flinches away from Slit's touch at first.

Once Max is seated, Slit goes back around the counter to pour him a coffee.

Setting the coffee in front of Max, along with three aspirin, he crosses his arms over his chest and declares, "this is only the second time that you've visited me, Rockatansky. I must say that my feelings are hurt."

"Been busy," Max supplies gruffly, taking the three pills and chasing them with a healthy sized gulp of coffee.

Snorting through his nose, Slit goes to the display case full of pastries and sandwiches.

Bending down, he asks, "what's your poison?"

When Max doesn't answer, he shakes his head and grabs a cheese danish.

Getting a plate, he sets the pastry down on it and plops the ensemble down in front of Max, who stares at it as if it may bite him.

Leaning his elbows on the countertop, Slit grabs the danish and takes a bite of it.

Sucking the filling off his fingers with obscene little *pops,* he grins at Max in a way that stretches the deep scars on either side of his mouth in a rather ghoulish way.

"See?" he says, "it's a perfectly good pastry. Now eat up."

Drinking the rest of his coffee, Max sets the mug down and hesitantly picks up the pastry.

Bringing it first to his nose, he sniffs it, and Slit feels his grin morph into a smile when Max's eyes widen at how sweet the danish smells.

Taking a big bite, Max closes his eyes reverently and breathes out, "glory be, that's good."

Slit nods in a 'no-shit' kind of agreement.

"Furi helped me whip up a batch before she fell asleep," Slit says, glowing with pride.

Max nods, finishing off the danish and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"'s good. Really good."

Nodding, Slit straightens up, rolling his neck and shoulders and, motioning for Max to follow him, walks over to where Furi is sleeping.

Sitting down on the bench, he gently pulls her into his lap and strokes her hair.

Max sinks down into an armchair next to the bench and watches the two.

The now Slit is so much different than the Slit that he grew up with.

It is sometimes hard for Max to connect the past and present into one person.

The young man in danger of drowning in his hurt and anger with the thick staples in his face from the self-inflicted Chelsea Smile has grown into a father that holds his little girl while she sleeps.

Right now, Max misses his wife and child more than ever.

Catching onto the silence enveloping Max like a cloud, Slit says, "so you're in love with my brother then."

This prompts a sort of choking noise from the other man, and a bark of a laugh from Slit.

Suddenly remembering the sleeping Furiosa, both men freeze. But the girl only sighs and burrows deeper into the blankets.

With color flooding his face, Max asks, "that obvious, is it?"

Slit nods.

Max curses under his breath.

Shrugging, Slit says, "he likes you, too, ya know. Though your deep-seeded self loathing probably doesn't let you believe that."

Max shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.

"You're a looker, Rockatansky. Whether you like it or not. And my idiot baby brother loves you probably more than he loves cars and explosions," Slit says.

Max opens his mouth to protest, but Slit stops him with a raised hand, saying, "get out of here and go get Nux's damn boot fixed. The love in the air is making me sick."

Nodding, Max stands up and walks to the door, and Slit notices with a sigh of relief that Max isn't limping like he was when he came in.