A/N. So I this is an AU and none of the characters have wings. Anyway, I was thinking about what a drunk Fang would be like, which led me to think about why Fang would ever get drunk in the first place and it developed into a story. It's mostly humor, but it does have an actual plot. I hope you enjoy!

-Don't Drink and Be Fang-

Chapter One: The Morning After

FANG

I'm sure it was a lovely morning with birds singing outside and the sun shining brightly. I'm sure that most people were waking up with a smile on their face and were going off to make themselves a nice cup of coffee.

If it was, I wouldn't have noticed because there was only one thought one my mind when I woke up:

Who the hell replaced my brain with a freaking bomb?

I've woken up to a lot of bad things like Max jumping on top of my bed until I either got up or fell off, Iggy and Gazzy putting a snake in my bed that launched the full on prank war, and ice cold water being dumped onto my head courtesy of Max again.

I would've taken any one of those things over the skull shattering pain I felt right then.

I vaguely wondered if this is anything like the brain attacks Max used to get, but that thought it quickly replaced by something slightly more meaningful at the moment:

Ow, ow, ow!

I heard the door open and it sounded so much louder than usual, like someone rigged my room with stereos. I managed to crack my eyes opened slightly and I instantly regret it.

Can someone turning the freaking sun off? I didn't remember my room being quite so bright. The whole theme of my room is darkness after all.

Through the haze of brightness I could still make out a flash of strawberry blonde hair.

Iggy.

"It's alive!" he said dramatically. It was like he was screaming directly into my ear, even though he wasn't. I could feel every word pound into my brain.

Did I even still have a skull or was my brain exposed to the world?

"Too loud," I croaked, my voice scratchy.

Iggy gave me an unholy grin and increased the volume of his voice on purpose. Jerk. "What's the matter, Fangles?" he asked, "Not feeling so good?"

He was mocking me! There I was in great pain and he was mocking me. As soon as my brain turns back to normal, I was going to kill him.

"What did you do to me?" I asked and try to glare as best I can, but even I know it was pathetic.

This has got to be one of Iggy pranks and it's really, really not funny.

"Me?" he raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid this is all you."

My mind was reeling, well as much as it could at that moment. How was this my fault? I don't remember bashing my head in with a sledge hammer. Actually, when I thought about it, I couldn't remember much of last night period.

He stepped away from me and gave me a glass of water and a Tylenol. Groaning, I managed to sit up and I became very aware of two things: one, I was wearing a pink shirt, and two; I had a tattoo of...something on my arm.

Wait, make that three. I used my tongue to feel my teeth and I had...fangs?

Holy. Crap.

"What the heck is this?" I would have yelled if my brain could have handled it.

"Don't worry, it's just henna, not a real tattoo," he assured me.

I yanked the fangs off and was relieved to find out they weren't real. But still, what the heck were plastic fangs to in my mouth? I threw them on the ground and Iggy smothered a laugh.

"Seriously, Fang? Don't you think you're taking the whole 'Fang' theme a little too seriously?"

I ignored him. "What happened?" I asked again. I rubbed my temples, trying to relieve the pain in my head.

"You got drunk and now you're hung over," he said bluntly. I could tell he was trying not to laugh, but a smile was already beginning to break through.

"No," I argued. "That's not right. I don't drink."

He let out a snort of laughter and shook his head at me. "Apparently you do. I should know; I spent most of last night taking care of you."

I shook my head then stopped when it did nothing but add a wave of nausea. "Oh God, please let this be a joke."

"Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, it's not," Iggy grinned. "You really don't remember?"

"Does it look like I remember?" I said miserably.

"Lucky for you then, you have me to fill you in on most of the details," Iggy told me.

"Most?"

He ignored me. "First, let's start off with one of my favorite moments of last night. I took the liberty of loading a certain video on YouTube."

I grimaced, "A video?"

He plopped my laptop next to me and made the screen face me.

Ouch. The screen suddenly seemed very, very bright.

"Apparently, someone caught you in your drunken state and uploaded it on YouTube."

Did life hate me? This seriously cannot be happening. This is not real. The worst thing I've done all year was steal Iggy's bacon that one time, and while yes, that was a grave crime, it certainly wasn't worth this.

"You're joking," I said.

"Nope, a drunken Fang for all to see," he told me.

I took a breath and steeled my nerves. I could do this. I mean how bad could it be?

Understatement of the year.

Hesitantly, I pressed the play button and sure enough, there I was. At least there was a very drunk version of me.

I was standing on top of one of the tables at the bar and almost everyone was looking at me. I'm pretty sure one girl just mouthed, "That loser's really wasted."

Please don't sing, please don't sing, I pleaded silently.

And I didn't sing.

I did something much, much worse.

"I'm not going to sing 'cause how cliché would that be? No, ladies and gentleman, I am going to recite a poem—a poem I am going to make at this very moment. It's original so no one try to steal it."

I watched myself clear my throat and my headache was momentarily forgotten. It was just that bad.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star,

How I wonder what you are,

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky,

Twinkle, twinkle little star,

How I wonder what you are,"

No, no, no, no, no. This is bad. This is very, very, bad. Iggy, on the other hand, found it very amusing and was laughing his head off.

I glared at him and I reached to turn off the video.

"Wait!" Iggy cried, "It's not done."

As if what I'd seen wasn't enough.

"That's actually pretty good. Does anyone have a napkin? I wanna write that down. Man, I'm a geniu—"

I winced as drunken me fell of the table with a very loud thud. The video finally turned off and you could hear a lot of laughter in the background.

I could not believe this was on the internet. I was just glad there weren't that many views and I prayed to God it stayed that way. I will find the uploader of this video and I will make them delete it if it's the last thing I do.

As embarrassing and horrible as that video was, it still didn't explain where the t-shirt, the tattoo, and the fangs came from.

Iggy noticed my expression and placed a hand on my shoulder, "Oh Fangy Boy, we've barely scratched the surface of last night."

A/N. Oh Fang, what I have in store for you. So what do you think? Continue or not? And yes, all members of the Flock will make an appearance.

Tell me what you think through a review! If nobody reviews then I'll take that as a "don't continue."

-Indy