A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short. Iggy was harder to write than Max.
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Iggy and the Gasman were up to no good. Jeb could tell that from listening (cough) eavesdropping outside the bathroom door.
"No, Gazzy, the blue wire!"
Jeb could have fainted right then and there. Only Iggy would teach a three-year-old how to build a bomb. Jeb took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Iggy, I need to talk to you! It's important!"
"Not now, Jeb. I'm, er, doing my business!" Iggy's voice sounded strained as he scrambled for the right words.
So that's why they were building their bomb in the bathroom. So they had a good excuse in case they were caught. But their excuse was not good enough. Jeb didn't get a PhD for nothing.
"Iggy, there's smoke coming out from under the door! You're building a bomb, and you know that I know!"
"Crap!" Jeb heard a small voice yell.
"Gazzy! I did not teach you that word!"
"Crap!"
"I didn't teach it to you, either, Iggy!"
Where did these kids learn their language? Jeb had thought he was careful around the children. Especially, the younger ones.
"Fine, Jeb. I'll be out in a minute," Iggy called, defeated, after a long pause.
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Iggy made his way to the sofa where he heard Jeb's breathing. "Yeah, Jeb? What did you need to talk about?" asked Iggy, turning his face to where he knew Jeb was.
"Well, Iggy, you're getting older now. And as you get older, your body will begin changing. Your voice will change and...well..."
Iggy frowned. He wanted to touch Jeb's face to see if he was sweating as much as he thought.
"Jeb, you may not know this, but I'm blind. If you don't talk, then I don't have any reason to be here. It's not like I can stare at your beautiful face or anything." Iggy said after a very awkward moment of silence.
Jeb's eyes widened. Where had Iggy learned how to use sarcasm?
"Well, as you get older..."
"You said that already." Iggy said impatiently. He wanted to know what was so darn important.
"Ig..." The ex-whitecoat's voice trailed of threateningly.
"Sorry."
Jeb took a deep breath. It had taken him an hour to calm down after Max's talk. Now Iggy was making him anxious again!
"Well, you'll begin to get...well, desires for the opposite s--er, gender. You'll want to...oh for the love of God! YOU'LL WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH GIRLS! THERE! I SAID IT!"
Max had stuck her head into the den to ask if Jeb needed anything. Recognizing where the conversation was going, however, she scurried away as fast as her little avian-hybrid legs would carry her. Iggy heard Max running away even over Jeb's yelling. Iggy smiled inwardly; this was going to be good.
"So tell me more about this 'sex' of which you speak."
The next sound Iggy heard was Jeb's head hitting the armrest of the couch.
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Another traumatizing two hours.
And only one preteen bird kid to go.
Things might just be looking up.
"So, Jeb," Iggy asked casually, "Have you ever had sex?"
Or not.
