Who's in the mood for Eggy? Fax may be the kickass couple, but no one messes with adorable.


"Ella," Iggy drawls suddenly, purposefully leaning across the dining table. I look up at him. His angular face is utterly confused, his thick blond eyebrows pulled up high on his forehead. His eyelashes are white and long, curving upwards like a beautiful spider (am I really saying this? You won't see me within five feet of a spider, but I guess this can be a possible exception). I laugh softly and take his hand, which is longer and rougher than mine.

"Why do you like me, Ella?" he continues seriously, honestly, sounding bitter. His brilliant blue eyes bore into my muddy browns. Once again, I marvel at his blind accuracy, how he seems to know exactly where I am without physically seeing.

"Why do I like you?" I snort and roll my eyes, amused by his shyness. "You idiot! I love you because you're sweet and amazing. You're sensitive and protective. You saved my life. You-"

"Stop," he interrupts, still dead-serious. He glances up at the ceiling, looking frustrated and helpless. I hate it immediately, whatever's making him like this. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

"Ella, I have wings, GOD DAMMIT!" He thrusts his clenched fist on the table, and a loud thud emerges from the surface of the table. The bowls and silverware rattle. "I'm blind," he whispers, voice cracking as he stares at me. His blue eyes are like an ocean, distant and beyond what I can ever see or understand.

I get up, walking around the table and to him. I hold his face in my hands, roughly, but he sure as hell needs to know I'm not kidding around. "Iggy. I fucking LOVE YOU, I DON'T CARE that you have wings. I DON'T CARE that you're blind. I DON'T CARE about anything else. I. Love. YOU."

Iggy reaches for my cheek with one hand. "You're not just saying that," he says, first as a question, and then confidently.

I press my lips to his in response. My hands flutter up to his neck, the sparse hair catching between my fingers. I whisper I love you against his soft, thin lips once more. So he doesn't forget.

Iggy's a really good kisser, despite his lack of sight. How many times have I heard Fang back talking Max, droning on and on about "typical teeth-bangers, least she doesn't have braces," et cetera et cetera? Good thing she loves him or he'd be dangling from a rope in a public area without clothes on.

I breathe in a little as his hands cup around my waist. "I love you back," Iggy whispers, suddenly calmed into a lull, his smile against mine crinkling his eyes. For a minute we just stand there, rocking back and forth gently, my arms still around his neck, his hands still around my waist.

And suddenly, beautiful music floats into the room.

It's most definitely one of those little gremlins, fooling around with relationships. But this time, I don't mind.

Dancing with Iggy is nothing like school dances at all. There's no one around to impress ("I got his number OMG!"), no one to sneak glances at shyly, it's just him and me in silence, swaying to and fro, our eyes locked on each other's. I don't think I've loved anyone as ridiculously much as I love this gorgeous mutant.

Iggy stops suddenly, pulling away.

"Iggy?" I say, aware my voice is laced with hurt.

"I'll be right back, Ells," Iggy mutters, leaving the room. I hear his footsteps up the stairs, and sit in the seat Iggy left just a while ago.

What did I do? I ask myself. It was going perfectly. I bury my face in my palms, upset and confused. I stare at the worn tablecloth angrily, plain navy and blue checkers. I start to count them. I'm up to 21 when he returns.

"Why are you sad?" Iggy asks innocently.

I can hear the lopsided grin in his voice, and I know what he's up to before I finally turn around.

I can barely see the ring through my tears.


Happy tears, mind you! R&Rs are appreciated. Have any other couples in mind?