A/N: Hey-lo! Thank you guys so mush for the reviews! Thank you Angel Ride, I Hate Jam, and Amazingness! Your reviews motivated me and made this story possible. Enjoy!

I am James Patterson. Do you believe that? Probably not. I don't either. I DON'T OWN MR.

It was Fang's turn to wash the dishes. Iggy developed a cold, so I had to cook. How ironic. It went like this:

"Man, Max, I really don't feel all that great." Iggy's forehead radiated waves of heat.

"Okay, yeah, I said you could just chill today. You know, try to cool that fever." I said. I really didn't want a sick bird cooking my food.

"I don't feel good Max. Someone else has to make breakfast."

"Yes, Iggy, I get it, 'k? Nudge'll make something, or Fang could, or Gazzy. Whatever. You rest though." I was trying hard to not lose my patience but failed miserably.

"Nudge can't, she'll contaminate it with some freaky cosmetic. And Gazzy will fart in the food. Besides, he's only eight. Fang has to wash the dishes and Angel—"

"You left Fang in charge of dishes? Wait, what dishes? We haven't eaten yet." I asked incredulously. After what happened yesterday? Was this guy nuts? Was he mentally blind too?

"You and Fang never finished washing dishes last night, smart one. You got a problem Fang doing his chores? Anyway, Angel is just plain out young so she can't. That leaves you. You're cookin." Iggy said, doing the Beiber flick with his strawberry blond hair. How annoying. Not in the mood for arguing, I decided to hatch a plan. There's no way in the Underworld that I'm making food. I'll just end up killing the Flock. My food is to die for. Literally. It's no fair that Fang—

Fang.

Fang, Fang, Fang.

He's the solution to all my problems! Fang could cook, I'd do the dishes…

I felt like I reinvented the lightbulb. Slamming Iggy's bedroom door, I stalked to the kitchen to see Fang. He stood there, in all his gloriousness, managing to look pretty smooth for a guy who just woke up and was forced into doing housework. He no longer smelt like soapy strawberry soap and I realized that his hair still looked damp from his late night shower last night. "Hey," I said. "Listen up, I wanna do the dishes, and you can cook. Deal?"

Fang did the Beiber flick. GAH. "Nope." He popped the 'p'. "I'm almost done with the dishes. I'll end up doing more work than you." He reasoned. Dang it. That boy was smart. I never beg. Maximum Ride does not beg; ever. But this was for the sake of the Flock. I didn't want their tongues falling off because of me.

"Please, Fang. Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" I was disgusted by myself. But Fang didn't even have to think to say:

"Nope. Zip. Never. Never ever."

"Oh my goodness, Fang, I'll do anything." I said, not realizing what I'd just gotten myself into.

The last time I said I'd do anything, Angel and Nudge turned me into a freakin' Barbie, and Fang, Iggy, and Gazzy had a good laugh making me do all the work in the world.

He hesitated. "Okay. I'll do it. You'll end up killing the only bird-kids alive with your cooking anyway. So yeah, I don't wanna die." Way to boost my ego, Fang.

I jovially bounced away. Just kidding. More like walked away. My stomach growled, though. I missed Iggy's fast and delish cooking. I leapt upstairs and to my room. Speaking of Iggy…

Gazzy rocketed toward me in the speed of light. Busting through the doorway, he nearly knocked me over, but I stepped aside just in time. "MAX! MAX! IGGY'S DYING!" he yelled. Fang couldn't hear any of this because he was downstairs.

"What the…?" I hopped out of bed sped two doors down to Iggy's room. Angel and Nudge were giggling in the bathroom, so it was just me, Gazzy, and –

"IGGY!" Gaz shouted. "STAY WITH ME, MAN!"

Iggy was curled up in drenched covers, shaking and sweating like a human fountain. His hair plastered to his tomato-red forehead, and his hands holding his stomach like he was afraid it might explode, Iggy certainly looked like he was dying. His eyes were squeezed shut and he pursed his lips. It scared me to death. "Oh…my…freaking…Lord." I said. I practically flew down the stairs. "FANG! FANG! GET UPSTAIRS!" I hollered. I didn't slow to see Fang's reaction or to hear what he was saying. My feet pounded against the floor. Iggy held us together. He was the blind guy. He helped us out in so many ways. I knew he'd live today, but he might go away tomorrow if his fever didn't go away. I couldn't think like that though.

I threw open the back door and sprinted the whole muddy way to the nearest Walgreens without stopping to take a breath. Not once. My body prickled with sweat and my hair stuck to the back of my neck. Tucking my wings into my back and adjusted my jacket some, I flung open the double doors to Walgreens and inhaled the sharp scent of mint and air freshener. A million isles splayed out in front of me, and I'd no clue what to ask for. Everyone in the building stopped to stare, but I didn't bother shooting them dirty looks. I located the nearest lady in a Walgreens T-shirt and nearly grabbed her. "I need medication for my brother." I said.

She seemed startled but she answered anyway. "Uh, how old is yer brother?" Despite her Southern accent, she seemed really professional.

"He's 40." I lied. Mutants can take WAY stronger medicine than normal humans. "Shaking with a stupid fever, gonna die soon, and I need the stuff NOW."

She just stared with her blue eyes. I think I was being too vague. "He's sweating buckets, tomato red, and he's havin' major headaches. Please, I need the medicine." I explained impatiently. Walgreens woman nodded and rushed behind a counter and when she came back out, she was holding two bottles in her hand.

"I ain't supposed to give ya these, you got no prescription, but your brotha' mighta need 'em. I know he ain't dyin', 'cause you'da drove him to the 'ospital by now. Read what the instructions say, okay? Now hustle, get to him." She finished. I nodded my thanks, snatched the bottles and shoved a twenty in her hand. I ran for it.

You may be thinking, what the hey, you're way overreacting. Well, when someone you love (like a brother), gets so much a scratch on them, you'd be doing the same thing. Heck, and when your brother's shaking and sweating and bright red, you'd be spazzing and making a million phone calls.

I ran all the way back home, my knuckles white from grasping the bottles so hard. Angel opened the front door and she looked relaxed. How was Iggy doing? "Iggy's fine, Max." Angel said, reading my mind. "But we still need whatever you've got in your hands." She added. Handing her the bottles, I strode in and collapsed on the brown couch, panting. The blank walls stared at me. Angel rushed upstairs.

"Hey, Ange?"

She paused. "Yeah?"

"Is Ig seriously okay?"

She hesitated. "Yeah."

And that's when I knew he was not okay. I ran up the stairs.

*~0~0~*

Fang flopped next to me on the couch. Our shoulders were almost touching. "The medicine's helping, you know." He said quietly.

Iggy had salmonella.

"Yeah." I said, looking up into his endless eyes. "I hope. Should I give Ig some popcorn? He'll feel better."

Fang laughed, and I loved the sound of it. I wanted to make him laugh all the time. "Iggy'll just groan and refuse it anyway. Either that, or he'll chunk it at you. You'll be Corn Head." He said.

"You should be an Oracle of Delphi."

"I'm not a hippie mummy thing."

"Yeah, you are."

Fang threw the TV remote at me. I ducked and it hit the wall. "That's it." I declared. "I'm making popcorn." I stood up and shuffled to the kitchen. Fang laughed again.

I'll remember to talk about popcorn more often, then.

*~0~0~*

Angel, Nudge, and I were watching 'How to Train Your Dragon'. Fang offered to take The Iggy Shift, which was like a watch, but you watch Iggy the whole time.

Jeez, that sounds so stalkerish.

Right now, Hiccup just lost his leg fighting a huge mutated dragon. But then he comes back to his village-thing, and there are dragons everywhere and everyone says he's a hero. I think about that.

Everyone has a huge dragon to battle, all the time. No matter what form the dragon comes in.

*~0~0~*

A week later, Iggy felt way better. All of the Flock was in a great mood, including Gazzy, who had honestly thought he was going to lose his best friend. While, Iggy and Gazzy were bonding by building bombs, and I suggested the rest of us go out to a restaurant.

"What? We've been to restaurants before. Don't look at me like that!" I protested. Even Fang's emotionless façade was broken. They literally gaped at me. It would've been comical if I hadn't been totally serious at the time.

"Max, you've mentally lost it. We're gonna order a ton of food and it'll be really embarrassing and we don't got the cash to pay for it anyway so—"

"It's don't have," I snapped. "And it isn't embarrassing we eat a lot, we can't help it. And I already figured out about the money. And we're going whether you like it or not." Okay, maybe I was being kinda harsh, but did she just call our family 'embarrassing'"?

The Flock stared me down harder. Oh Lord, I don't want to act like a mom. "We're gonna go to IHOP." I said to no one in particular. "Come on, guys, it'll be fun!" Angel warmed up to the idea of pancakes, a delicacy in the bird-kid dictionary. Grudgingly, one by one, the three of them agreed. Halfway there, I pointed out to Fang he was the only guy in the posse. He somehow shrugged while flying. I'd memorized the way to IHOP because I'm so in love with it, and we were there in no time, strolling through the glass double doors.

Nudge ran ahead and sat at a booth seat facing a window, and the rest of us filed in behind her. Fang sat on the edge, me beside him, Ange and Nudge on the other side in a way that I was facing Nudge. A framed menu lay in front of me. I took a good, long look at the menu and spotted it.

It was The One.

CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKES! I nearly fell over with amazement. Oh, and I squealed like a dying pig. I now officially love IHOP. Fang watched me with amusement twinkling in his eyes. A young blonde waitress came over. "Do you guys know what you want to order yet?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at Fang. She looked like she was undergoing a facial seizure.

"Yeah," I said coldly. "I'm ordering six orders of chocolate chip pancakes. I don't know about them." I gestured to Angel, Nudge, and Fang. Her jaw dropped.

"All for you? That's like, twelve pancakes!" she exclaimed, but then turned red and covered her mouth. Nudge looked embarrassed. "And what does your daughter and her friend want?" Annoying Blonde Girl said, recovering from her shock.

"Angel—? She's not my daughter. I don't have kids. I'm 15." I said. The waitress flushed a brighter shade of red.

"Sorry, you're tall…" she mumbled. Angel broke the awkward silence.

"I'll get three orders of blueberry pancakes, ma'am, and four strips of bacon, please." She said sweetly.

"I'll get one order of French Toast." Nudge said.

"Uh, I'll have three Big Steak Omelettes." Fang said.

Annoying Blonde Girl wrote all this down, looking flustered. "That'd be it?" she asked. We nodded. But I needed to talk with Nudge. "Nudge," I hissed. "I know you would eat more than four blueberry pancakes. What happened?"

Nudge looked away, leaving me to gaze at her kinky, Afro curls.

When the orders arrived, we were starved beyond measure, and the sky outside proved it was noon. None of us made a sound as we devoured the multiple orders we ordered. Nudge had finished early, and I thought I heard her stomach growl, pleading for more delicious French Toast. Annoying Blonde Girl clomped over to our booth and stuck out the bill. Eighty-four dollars. Of course, I'd come prepared, and of course it wasn't my money. I held out the credit card under the name Bob Sullivans that I'd stolen from some fat guy. She nodded, took the card and stayed at the register for a minute. She came back with a frown. "Your name is Bob?" she asked Fang.

Fang shot me a glare and said, "Yeah."

I held in my hysterical laughs. Fang as Bob. He would never live it down. I slid out of the booth. Nudge followed Fang and I out the double doors. Angel was filling her pink pockets with those crayons you get at restaurants. A burst of fresh air and the smell of flowers greeted me. "Oh! Ma'am! Sir! You forgot your daugh—er, the little girl." Annoying Blonde called after us. Angel ran to catch up with us, dropping some crayons in the process.

"Stupid waitress," I muttered.

"What?" Fang inquired.

"The girl thought Angel was my freaking daughter. I'm only fifteen! Jeez…"

"It makes sense though." He said.

"What?" I said, more surprised than anything else.

"We mutants are freakishly tall, so thought we're older. She thought Angel was ours." Fang said.

"Oh," was my intelligent reply. She'd thought Fang and I were married or something. Ew.

*~0~0~*

Before bed, Iggy had cooked a special dinner to honor his improving health. How selfless of him. It was great though, and Nudge wolfed it down in seconds. I lay in my bed, counting sheep. Fang stopped at my doorway.

"I'm excited about tomorrow." He said.

"Why?"

"I washed the dishes and cooked breakfast. Plus, you failed the intervention. You have to do whatever the rest of the Flock makes you do for a day. That day is tomorrow."

I was speechless cause he was right.

DUN DUN DUN. Max has a fun day coming up. Special thanks to I Hate Jam for subscribing this to her Story Alert. It means a lot!

~Hallie