Be my Paris? By Icywingsoffire

I sat on the railing with my legs dangling over the sides, gazing out over the moonlit tree tops. The winds, just cool enough to hint at the oncoming winter, picked up my hair and tossed it gently behind me. If Fang were here, he would run his fingers through it, and tell me how beautiful it was. How beautiful I was.

But Fang wasn't here. Fang had been gone for 2 months, 13 days, and 4 hours. 106,800 minutes ago, he left me. He left a note and went off to god knows where. 6,408,000 seconds ago he left.

So why did it still hurt so badly?

I heard the screen door slide open and closed, and footsteps on the wooden deck. Jeb, I thought. No one in the flock would try to disturb me when I was in one of my moods. Except Fang.

"Not now, Jeb."

"Shi- Max, I didn't know you were out here." It was Iggy's voice, not Jeb's. "I'll leave." The footsteps retreated.

"No, Ig, you're fine. I don't own the deck." All of this wallowing wasn't good for me, or the flock. I knew it, but I hadn't quite gotten to the point where I could be Max again yet.

Iggy stood silently. I still didn't look at him. A tear rolled down my face, and I watched it fall to the forest floor. "Are you, uh, okay?" Iggy quietly asked.

I gave a half-choked laugh. "Okay? How can I be okay?" When Fang left, he left the whole flock, but he really left me. And my heart knew it. I saw him everywhere we went, heard his laughter coming from other rooms, and woke each morning reaching out for him. He was my right hand man, my only love. And now he was gone.

I felt, rather than heard Iggy come closer. "He did what he had to. For the flock. For you."

"It doesn't feel that way." I looked at him. He was wearing pajama pants and no shirt. Not all that unusual, since that's what the guys wore to bed year round, and at 1:30 in the morning, he'd probably expected to be alone on the deck.

"I know." As he said the words, his face matched them. They weren't the empty pacifications of the other people in my life. Iggy knew what I meant. "When someone can't be with you, even for the greater good, it hurts."

"It hurts a lot, Ig."

"Yeah. It does." His jaw clenched for a second, as if he was feeling pain.

I wondered who had left him. Who had been unable to be with him? How could he know my pain? "Ig?"

"Yeah?" There was a visible effort to look casual as Iggy came to straddle the railing on my left, facing me. The only sign of pain left was in his sweet, blind eyes.

"Who-" I chickened out. "Who told you that you could be so smart?"

"I learned it all from a fantastic woman."

"Oh yeah? Where'd you find one of those?"

"Not too far from home, Max." There was hesitation in his eyes. Almost fear. But mostly just sadness. "Everything I've ever learned has come from the most amazing woman on earth. You."

If it weren't for the serious expression, I would have waited for the punch line. But instead, I just watched as Iggy leaned forward.

When his lips first touched mine, they were barely there, just a brush of butterfly wings. But then something inside of me sparked, and I leaned in, too. Iggy gasped, and kissed me harder, but still gently. My mouth opened, and his tongue darted in, tasting me. Hands wove themselves into my hair, holding my face to his. Something in my stomach jumped uncomfortably.

A pulled back, and Iggy immediately released me. I pressed a hand to my lips and felt tears running down my face.

For just a second, I had forgotten who Iggy was. I'd felt soft, warm lips on mine, and I had forgotten Fang. It was something in the way Iggy made me feel. When I kissed Fang, it was a rush of heat and love and passion. But Iggy, he made me feel safe, loved, comforted. A steady, warm candle to Fang's hot, fleeting fireworks.

I climbed off of the railing and turned away from Iggy. I heard him a few feet behind me, standing now as well. "Max…" He whispered. "I'm sorry."

My heart squeezed. What could I say to him? 'Thanks for the kisses but I don't love you as much as I love Fang'? But maybe that wasn't true. A different kind of love. No more, no less. Just different.

"I'm not." I turned and kissed him again, softly.

Iggy would never be Fang's Romeo to my Juliet. But maybe, he could be my Paris.

A/N: As a totally pro- Fax reader, I didn't want to undermine their love, but Max was lonely and Iggy is just too darn cute to leave hanging. I could write more, if you guys want. Reviews would me amazing!