Max looked out the window, reminiscing those days when she and Fang were at the School. He had been the strongest person she'd ever met, apart from herself. Whenever those putrid whitecoats would take him away and bring him back later, he'd have a new batch of bruises. But he never cried, never yelped in pain. He'd sit in the corner of his cage, quiet.
All those memories came easily as she waited for her mom to come home with Fang. Earlier, he'd injured his ankle after he slipped in the kitchen in a puddle of water. Max was had laughed, that is, until she noticed he was limping. Her mom immediately took him to the vet hospital she worked at; the same one Max had went to for x-rays.
X-rays. Max shuddered. Fang was going to get one. "It's necessary," her mom had said. "He might have sprained his ankle or worse." Max had agreed.
Actually, she wanted to tell her mom that the x-ray wasn't necessary, since Fang would heal in a few days. But then again, he might have broken a bone and it might heal the wrong way, like what had happened to Angel on their expedition to Antarctica.
No, he'll be fine, Max told herself. He's been through tougher situations. She forced herself to clear her mind and join the flock.
Downstairs, they were sprawled on the couch, yelling at the TV.
Fang still wasn't there. Why was it taking so long? He'd left approximately forty minutes and thirty seven seconds ago. Max pursed her lips, settling down beside Iggy. He sensed Max.
"Anxious?" He asked. Max nodded. "You know his ankle's going to be fine," Iggy said.
"No, I'm not anxious of his ankle," Max said. "I'm just wondering, what if something went wrong? What if Erasers found them and attacked them?"
"Gee, Max," Iggy said smugly. "I didn't know you cared for Fang that much."
"Shut up," Max said hotly. "I care for everyone in the flock."
"Interesting..," Iggy said, raising an eyebrow at her. Despite the fact he was blind, he seemed to be staring right at Max.
"To punch you or not," Max sighed to herself.
Then she heard the faint sound of the car door slamming close. Max jumped up and ran for the front door. She flung it open to see her mom helping Fang out of the door. Helping Fang out of the door? Something must be wrong.
Instead of acting calm, she rushed to Fang. "What happened?" She inquired.
"Nothing serious," Fang said, recieving two, long metal crutches from Dr. M.
"God, Fang. You need crutches?" Max said incredulously.
"It's only for a few days," Fang said, glaring. "They had to 'adjust' the bone and now I can't walk until I heal."
"No way," Max said. "Was it that serious? Who 'adjusted' your ankle?"
Answers. Right now, Max needed answers.
"The other vets had no experience, and we couldn't find a hospital. So you mom did it," Fang replied.
Riveted, Max looked at her mom. "That's both cool and gross. How'd you do it?"
Earnestly, her mom answered, "It wasn't easy. Max, can you make sure Fang doesn't fall on his way to his room?"
Endeavored not to burst out laughing, Max nodded and followed Fang upstairs.
Knowing her best friend so well, she stopped at the top of the stairs where her mom wasn't watching them anymore.
"Is it just me or have you suddenly become weak?" Max remarked.
Snapping his fingers, Fang said sarcastically, "It must be you."
Soon, though, Max's arms were around Fang's neck. Her face was dangerously close to his, particularly her lips.
"Is it just me or has the great Maximum Ride been worrying over her best friend?" Fang smirked. And then Max's lips were on his and they were kissing. Max had been worried. Fang didn't need to know that, though.
Neither knew how much time had passed when they finally broke away. Fang regained his balance on his crutches, studying Max. "It's you," He said, answering his own question.
"God, Fang," Max rolled her eyes. But she still loved him. When she glanced at the bottom of the stairs, the flock was there, chanting a rhyme.
What was the flock chanting?
It's hidden in this story somewhere.
Virtual cookies to anyone who figures it out. :D
~Zikkie
P.S. Can't figure it out? The answer is...
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'Max and Fang, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.'