HOORAY FOR ONESHOTS!!!!

I NEED IDEAS FOR MY UNTITLED STORY!!!! (a title would be nice too :D)

xx lys

Disclaimer and Third Edit-- I don't own Maximum Ride. Or Journey. Or Savannah Outen.

Max POV

I sat down at the Martinez's old grand piano. I knew I shouldn't have been up.

Heck, it was three in the morning. Nobody deserves the punishment of being up at three in the morning. (Plus, I was having a really great dream about no one in particular. *wink*)

But hey, my life sucks. I have a freaking Voice in my head, for example. And guess who decided to show up.

Be polite, Maximum. Like I'll listen to a Voice in my head that gives me etiquette lessons and might-or-might-not-be Jeb. Whoop de do. I sighed at the thought of my is-he-a-traitor-or isn't-he-jeesh-make-up-your-mind-father, and I started to play the song I felt described my feelings about Jeb.

~You tried to lock the door with me forever

But I broke my own way out

You tried to build a wall and tell me never

But I was never backing down

Ohh, you tried to take my wings I,

I just kept on flying...

Fighting, fighting, fighting for my life~

I finished with a elaborate (look at me, using big words) power chord piano solo, and I decided to have a little fun. (God knows my childhood was more than deprived of that.)

Don't stop believing

Hold on to that feeling

Streetlights

People... Ohhhhhhh!!!!!

I heard a rustle and the whisper of a deep voice behind me.

Fang.

"Now, mister, what on earth are you doing up at this time?" I grinned widely.

Fang grinned back. All this emotion. Jeesh. Too much to handle.

"Max, you do have a very pretty singing voice, you know. You just always sing really sad songs." I turned around, and there was Angel in her sparkly pink nightgown, holding Celeste, who was dirty but still having a cleaner-than-usual day. Angel was staring at me with that slightly-unfocused-actually-kinda-creepy thing she does. "Ange. Go back to bed." I tried to look mad.

Fail.

Surprisingly, Angel obeyed. I guess I didn't hide my shock well, because a thought was pushed into my head.

I don't wanna ruin you and Fang's moment. And Angel turned and padded up the steps. Moment? WHAT?

Fang tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, and all I saw was Fang's black Trapt shirt, his strong arms around me, his breath on my neck. Fang isn't a hugger, so when he graces you with a hug, you gotta take it for what it's worth. I hugged him back. Too early for kissing, I decided. Though we were alone... Ugh. I'm turning into Iggy.

And right then, I didn't care if the Chu Corporation was taking over, didn't care if Gozen II was busting down the door.

All I wanted, all I needed, was Fang, my right-wing man, here next to me, both of us breathing as one.

We lay on the couch silently, (as is the tradition with Fang) but all too soon, Iggy tromped down the steps, sliding down the rail. (I keep telling him that's a bad idea, but does he listen to me? Nooo.) He narrowed his eyes in our direction.

"Calm breathing, two erratic pulses. At least I don't hear kissing noises." He mock sighed. "No suspicious activity, you two. I'm making breakfast."

Fang sped off to the kitchen, most likely to try and get his pan of scrambled eggs before me. (Gazzy called dibs on the first pan, but he wasn't there, now was he?)

I guess there really are some benefits to waking up ar three in the morning.

YAYYYYY!!!!!!!!!

I just realized, there are a LOT of hyphens in this story. :D

This was sweet, dontcha think?

Click the green button!!!