This is technically my second attempt at a humor fic, because I'm working on a one shot right now, but this will probably be ready to put up before the other one. I don't know how funny it's going to be, but I'm going to try. This is one of those that I'll just update once a week, maybe more, maybe less, just whenever I'm bored or whatever. Probably kind of OOC. Probably not going to be the best writing in the world, either, just because that's not really my focus… anyway, enough rambling. Onward!
Disclaimer: I don't own Maximum Ride, although I kidnapped Fang and he is staying in my fridge.
"Fa-aaang!"
Fang groaned and opened his eyes. His digital clock said 2:00 in glowing letters. He rolled over to face the wall. Max's room was on the other side. "What?"
"Come here."
"Max, it's two in the morning."
"I don't care, come here!"
With a loud sigh, Fang hoisted himself out of bed and shuffled next door to his girlfriend's room (A/N: this is post-MAX and they have their own house, for story purposes).
Fang peeked inside to see her laying on top of the covers, her face all red. He shut the door and walked over to her bedside. "What's the matter?"
"I don't feel good," Max moaned. "I'm so hot, and nauseous, and tired, but I can't sleep. And my nose is all clogged, and I'm hungry but I'm afraid I won't be able to keep anything down."
"You sound like Nudge," mused Fang, smoothing her hair back from her sweaty forehead. "Do you want some toast? I bet you can keep that down."
"Sure." She flipped her pillow over and buried her face in it. "Thanks."
Fang walked down to the kitchen and found the bread. He took out two slices, stuck them in the toaster, and went to the fridge to get some jam. Then he leaned on the counter and waited for the toast to pop up.
"Hey, Fang?"
Rolling his eyes, he called back, "What?"
"Can you bring me a bucket?"
Oh, gross. He ran to the garage and picked one up. As he ran back by the toaster, he realized it'd been in there forever and tried to pull the handle up himself. It wouldn't budge.
"Fang! I need it now!"
Cursing under his breath, Fang ran up the stairs and into Max's room, where he shoved it under her nose a split second before her dinner came up. Trying not to watch, he busied himself with holding back her hair and stroking it.
"Okay. I'm good. Where's my toast?"
"Downstairs. Be right back."
Halfway down the stairs, he could smell it. Once in the kitchen, he realized it wasn't the right smell. And when he got close enough, he realized little sparks were flying out of the toaster.
"Damn it!" Fang yelled, grabbing it and yanking out the cord. The sparks didn't stop. Smoke was floating toward the ceiling, and the fire alarm started beeping.
"Fang? What the hell is going on down there?!"
"Nothing, Max! I got it!" Grabbing the fire extinguisher off the wall, he dropped the toaster and started spraying it down. The fire was spreading across the linoleum tiles, and he rushed to get the rest of it.
"Max! Maaax! The fire alarm's going off!" came Nudge's frantic voice from upstairs. "MAX! MAAAX! FANG'S NOT IN HIS ROOM! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, he got taken! We have to run after them! We--"
"Somebody turn off that freaking thing!" Iggy yelled, and a door slammed. "Max! What's with that?"
Gritting his teeth, Fang stomped on the last of the fire, then sprayed down the whole area, just to make sure. By the time he was finished, the whole flock, minus Max, who must've not felt like coming down, was standing there staring at him.
"Fang?" asked the Gasman, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Why is the toaster in the floor?"
"Is that charcoal?" Angel asked, pointing to two lumps of black Fang hadn't noticed before.
"That," he said, picking them up carefully, "would be toast."
Iggy snorted. "Wow, Fang. Since Max can't cook and apparently you can't either, your little Fax kids will have to eat, like, Weight Watchers yogurt for breakfast."
"Shut up and help me trash the toaster, Figgy."
There ya go. Fang can't make toast.
I might write another chapter right now. Dunno. Review, please!
