Author's Note: Sorry about this. I got into a really silly mood last night, and I wanted to write something that reflected that. I hope it's not too painful for you all to read. Enjoy!

I came home, my wings sore from the two hour long, 200 mile an hour flight home from DC. The house smelled amazing.

I could identify that smell anywhere. Chocolate chip cookies. From scratch.

"Mom? Ella? I'm home!" I called from the front door, taking off my shoes. What I saw next made my jaw drop to the floor. Fang came out of the kitchen, wearing my mom's pink, frilled apron, with an aluminum sheet full of cookies. Oven mitts and all, Fang looked ridiculous. I let out a guffaw of amazement at the spectacle before me.

"Everyone's out," he explained to me, a weird, cavalier tone in his voice. "We have two days to ourselves," he continued. I watched an odd grin creep to his face, as I raised an eyebrow.

"Umm… Fang? Why are you acting so… weird?" I inquired, wondering if he was on drugs. Number one, he was talking, and number two, he was smiling. An honest look overtook the grin, and he sighed.

"I've been thinking about you all day. I had this dream… and I realized… how much you mean to me." He placed the cookie tray down, and I maintained my suspicion.

"Uh… hold on one minute," I told him. "Don't move." He did as I told him, and I walked over. I placed a hand on his forehead. Yes, it was a little warm, but it wasn't anything to be concerned about. When I took my hand away, he followed it with his head, and kissed it, giving a tiny giggle. Damn it, I thought, Fang does not giggle! It was then that I realized that I could see his black wings, and then I made the realization that the apron was the only thing he was wearing! "Fang, what the hell?!" He smiled again and turned around, back toward the cookies, and I didn't want to look, but curiosity got the best of me. I looked. I was relieved at first, but then, honestly, a little disappointed. I could feel my face flushing red. His wings were relaxed, hanging downward so that they covered that no doubt amazing rear end of his. He started to take the cookies off of the sheet with a spatula, placing them on a serving plate. He turned his head toward me, and winked.

"Today is Max's day. You're lucky you just got in, cuz I just drew your bath. Go upstairs, get in, and when you get out, I'll have another surprise waiting for you." Ok. Now I was officially freaked out. I come home, no one's here but Fang, naked (for the most part) and baking me cookies. Smiling, talking, winking. Now, he tells me that I'm going to have to put up with this for two days?? I thought to myself. Well, maybe this was a good thing. I mean, if nothing else, it gave me blackmail material to use against him. And, I was getting to enjoy the only vice I think I have… homemade chocolate chip cookies. Jeez, if I could only snap a picture of him in that apron. Damn Iggy and Gazzy for ripping my camera to pieces! They had said, afterward, that the magnesium in the flashbulb was all they needed, and that I would have been proud of the explosion that it made. I smacked both of them upside the head that day, I remembered pleasantly.

I opened the bathroom door, and sure enough, Fang had done what he'd said he'd done. And more. He had set out about 10 or 15 candles, illuminating the room sufficiently that I didn't even have to turn on the light to see the gigantic puff of bubbles inside the bath. I shut the door, and I decided that even though this was weird as… well, really weird, I did need the bath. My muscles were sore, and I smelled… let's just say "less than savory". I peeled off my sweaty clothes, and left them in a pile in front of the door, and smelling the cucumber-melon wafting from the candles, I just… relaxed. I turned off the lights, deciding that I enjoyed the natural flame-light from the candles more than the artificial light bulb-light. I stepped my right leg into the bath, feeling the just-a-bit-hotter-than-comfortable water. It was nice, though. Hot water relaxes the muscles. I stepped my other foot in, and I slowly began to recline, allowing my body to adjust to the heat, and allowing the liquid to envelop me. After about a minute, I relaxed totally, closing my eyes and thanking whoever it was that gave Fang the crack that he must have smoked this morning. This was nice.

After about 15 minutes, having cleaned myself up and allowed the water to neutralize the lactic acid saturating my muscles and, I stood up, grabbing the towel that Fang had laid out for me. I noticed three little orange capsules on the bathroom sink that looked like candy. A closer examination on my part revealed that they were not candy, but in fact Motrin. What a great guy he was. I mean, I know that there was something between us, something that we had not really addressed or dealt with yet. I mean, we were teenagers for crying out loud. We weren't that adept at dealing with our emotions, especially those we felt toward one another. Fang was like a statue, unfeeling, unexpressive. I didn't display my feelings, but only out of the unwillingness to hurt or get hurt. But what the hell was this?

I stepped out of the bath, pulling the drain plug, and allowing the now suds-less water to void from the tub. I dried my face first, and then I dried my body. Just then, I heard a knock at the door.

"Yeah, Fang?" I asked.

"I have some stuff for you," he informed me.

"What stuff?" I asked.

"Clothes. Sweats. A shirt," He replied. He knew me better than I knew myself. I hadn't brought in any clean clothes with me. Normally, this wasn't a problem, as I would just put the towel around myself and scamper to my room. But I guess Fang had other plans. Not to mention, I don't think I would have wanted to have been wearing only a towel with Fang acting the way he was. God knows what he would do. I covered my body, and opened the door about a foot. He stuck his clothing-filled hands in, making no presumption to enter. I took them, and then he pulled the door shut. I continued to dry my body. When I was done, I hung the towel up on the peg planted in the upper center of the door. I slipped the sweatpants on, my favorite ones with the sides slit at the bottom. I made those slits when I felt that the elastics at the bottom were eventually going to piano-wire my ankles off. They had belonged to my mom. I smiled, walking out the door, feeling as if I had been turned to Jello. I had finally relaxed, and I walked downstairs with those cookies on my mind. And Fang… what the hell was with him? He was cooking. For me. In the nude. I mean, there was tension between us to begin with, and now he pulls this?

I walked in, and I saw him standing next to the table, the plate of cookies in hand, smiling that illuminating Fang smile. I couldn't help but laugh. The bath, the baking, the… naked Fang. He just… made me so happy.