DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything.

Hey guys! I'm back with the sequel! (if you haven't read the first one yet I suggest you do so cos otherwise you might not understand some of the stuff in her). A few things you will need to know – this story is set three years after the first one and A LOT has changed for our favourite flying friends... but you'll have to read to find out what. So I hope you guys like this one as much as the first one! Happy reading!

FANG POV –

I kept my head down as I leant against the door jamb, my hands interlocked behind the small of my back. Max was standing directly in front of me, her angry voice floating from the kitchen into the rest of the house.

"What, so you just thought it would be okay?" Max was shouting.

"No, I knew I wouldn't be recognised..."

"God Iggy! How many times do I have to remind you that we are the most famous faces in America right now? You can't just waltz through the streets anymore..."

Iggy, who had been heatedly dicing tomatoes for dinner, turned to face Max. He held the sharp knife in front of him, using it as a pointer.

"You know what Max? I'm sick of you and your stupid rules," he waved the knife around carelessly. "We all know the risks of exposing ourselves but that doesn't mean that I'm going to stay cooped up in this house for the rest of my life. I have to be able to live and I can't do that here."

"What are you saying? That you want to leave?" Max demanded, ignoring the knife in Iggy's hand.

"If that's what I meant, don't you think that I would have said that?" he retorted.

I sighed, pushing myself away from the wall. I placed my hands on Max's hips and pulled her gently away from Iggy. She turned swiftly, her hands grabbing mine and yanking them away from her body.

"Don't you dare interfere," she hissed at me.

Her eyes were burning with anger but she didn't scare me. I offered her an innocent grin, raising an eyebrow slightly. Max scowled at me before dropping my hands and crossing her arms over her chest. She turned back to continue arguing with Iggy but I'd heard enough. I had no doubt that this argument would replay tomorrow night and possibly the night after, just like it had for the past week.

"Ig, put the knife down," I said softly, speaking before Max could.

She opened her mouth to say something snide but I grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. Before she could protest, I pushed her out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Max struggled briefly against my death grip on her shoulders but eventually gave up when she realised I was still stronger than her.

"Meet me on the roof," I told her, gently pushing her forward.

Max spun as soon as I released my grip and raised a hand, pointing threateningly at me. Her eyes were narrowed and her cheeks flushed in anger.

"I told you..."she began.

I grabbed her finger in one hand, a smile playing across my face. Slowly, I leant down towards her until our noses were nearly touching. I could hear her breathing as it became uneven and my heart beat skipped slightly as her warm breath touched my face.

"Meet me on the roof," I repeated, my voice husky as desire filled me.

Max's eyes were wide and captivated now, all of her anger dispelled. She nodded minutely and I saw her throat move as she swallowed. Her brown eyes flickered from one of my eyes to the other and back again, unsure which one to settle on.

I placed a feather-light kiss on her nose before pulling away from her. The spell broken now, Max huffed and stormed off down the hall. I watched as she left, my eyes tracing every line of her beautiful curvature. When she finally turned into her bedroom, I groaned softly with happiness. My head fell backwards as I closed my eyes so I could see Max's backside again, a guilty smile forming on my lips. How was it that she could tease and tempt me so much even after three years?

Feeling slightly lightheaded and giddy, I wandered slowly back into the kitchen. In the short time it took me to reach the kitchen door, I had donned my expressionless face and was ready to face Iggy. It was about time this constant bickering between him and Max stopped.

Iggy had returned to making dinner, his sensitive fingers scooping up the mass of diced tomatoes and tossing them eerily into the frypan beside him. Not one piece missed the pan. The kid was good.

"Ok Ig," I said, walking over to the tall blonde. "What's going on?"

I leant back against the kitchen bench behind me, my head turned to one side so I could keep an eye on Iggy. I crossed my arms over my chest, prepared to wait. I heard him mumble something under his breath but didn't catch the words.

"What?"

He ignored me, tearing at the Cling Wrap that covered a packet of meat. I knew he was still seething about Max's words; I just needed him to snap. Then it would all come out, just like usual.

"Was Max right? Are you planning on leaving?" I said it softly but the impact was quite profound.

The meat slipped from Iggy's fingers, landing – complete with packaging – in the frypan on top of the tomatoes. Iggy swore and quickly pulled the packaging out of the mix.

"I don't want to talk about this," he told me as he walked over to put the rubbish in the bin.

"You can't keep doing this to her Ig," I muttered. "Max worries about you and she's just trying to keep you safe. You both need to stop fighting with each other."

He snorted in contempt. "Figures."

I frowned. "Huh?"

"You," he replied. He faced me, his gaze managing to find my eyes and pierce me. "You're always defending her, like everything Max does is perfect and everybody else is only second rate."

I stared at him, open-mouthed.

"What has gotten into you?" I demanded.

This was not the Iggy I knew. Something was troubling him.

"Nothing!" he snapped. He turned his back to me and began to stir the frypan. There was a thick silence as I continued to stare at him, trying to figure out how to reach him. A minute passed before Iggy finally released a loud breath.

"God Fang just drop it would you?" he cried.

"I didn't say anything," I murmured softly, finally turning away. "I just want to help you man."

"Well you can't. Nobody can," he whispered.

My frown deepened. What was that supposed to mean?

I pushed away from the kitchen bench and left the room, leaving Iggy in silence as he cooked. In the hallway, I rubbed a hand over my face in frustration. I knew he was wrong. Whether he realised it or not, I was capable of helping him and I was going to do everything that I could to do just that, with or without his consent.