Wow, I looked at all my reviews and I have 17 so far. I decided to respond to some of them…. So yeah.

pancakes-for-you: yeah, I thought it seemed weird, and I didn't intend for angel to be so… therapist-y, I just thought maybe Fang should show a little softer side? Thanks for your compliments and your criticism.

Trapped in Narnia: It probably should…. if it's because of the cussing, let me know what I should cut down on using, because I'm not sure what qualifies for M. AND DYLAN WILL NOT BE HERE BECAUSE I HATE HIS GUTS. I might put that he got killed off, though. Heheh.

wingedgymnast12: Thanks for your suggestion, but I'm not sure if that will be relevant to the story anymore, but I don't know.

Petemidnight13: Thanks for your suggestion too, but could you please explain? I'm not really sure what you intend it to mean.

And thank you to all my other reviewers.

MaxPOV

I woke up the next morning missing the usual feeling of Fang's arm around me and his Red-Hots-ish scent. I sat up, panicking. Where was he?

Oh, RIGHT. He couldn't sleep in here. For a MONTH.

I groaned just thinking about it, flopping back onto my sheets. Sometimes my mom annoyed the heck out of me… And then, a familiar smell wafted in through slightly open door. CHOCOLATE. CHIP. COOKIES. I leapt out of my bed and took the stirs two at a time into the kitchen. "Where are the cookies?" I demanded, not caring that there should/would probably be tension between my and my mom at this point.

"Still in the oven," she said, smiling at me. "I thought you deserved a bit of an apology. I didn't trust you guys last night, but you did what we asked."

I suddenly felt guilt wash over me. "Uh, yeah," I mumbled. "We did." (Technically, we didn't, because we tried...) I gave her a fake smile and a hug, feeling bad for betraying her trust as she stepped back. "I was going to call the flock down for breakfast," my mom said, gesturing at Iggy, who was making waffles, "but I thought you'd like to. I know how you hate it when someone else takes care of them." I grinned a little. Huh. I guess she knew me better then I thought.

"GAZZY! ANGEL! FANG! NUDGE!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "BREAKFAST IN FIVE OR YOU GET SOGGY WAFFLES!"

Iggy laughed. "Nice one, Max," he chuckled.. "That'll get them out of bed." His words were apparently true, because at the mere mention of soggy waffles, Gazzy and Nudge were downstairs in a flash. Angel came down right after them, eyes bright. How does she do that? It's, like, nine a.m. I am not an early riser when I can afford not to be.

After Angel, Fang stumbled down the stairs into the kitchen. He was covering a yawn with one hand, the other one messing up his hair further. And… bonus for Max… he was shirtless, just wearing his black sweatpants. My breath hitched in my throat a little, and Angel giggled in my head.

Iggy heard me and smirked. "Allow me to take a crack at how many articles of clothing Fang is wearing," he snickered. Before he could, I smacked him in the arm. Hard. Fang mumbled something sleepily, but I didn't bother to see what it was.

"Ow, Max! Be careful, I could burn your waffles. Or worse- your precious cookies!" he taunted. "My hand just might slip over the temperature dial." Said hand inched toward the dial, threatening to turn it up.

"DON'T. THREATEN. MY. COOKIES," I growled, grabbing his wrist. "Or I will threaten your manhood." Gazzy and the now-wide-awake Fang cringed at that. Iggy snatched his hand back to the waffle iron when I let it go, scowling at me. I laughed. "Just get me my waffles, Ig."

"Flock, I'm going to run a quick errand. Don't blow anything up," warned my mom, grabbing the keys and walking out the door. There was a chorus of "Okay, Dr M,"s and waves goodbye.

I sat down at the table next to Fang as Iggy dished out the waffles onto everyone's plates. I grabbed the whipped cream before Gazzy could and smirked at him, spraying it all over my waffles and then piling on the strawberries. (I'm hungry now…) "Here you go, Gaz," I said, still smirking as he tried to spray the now-empty can over his waffles. What can I say? Three thousand calories a day, remember? And we don't get waffles that often.

"Iggy, Max used all the whipped cream!" complained the Gasman. Iggy snickered and said, "Nice job, Max. What do you see in her, Fang?" He walked over to the fridge and got out two more bottles. (What? We still had Angel, Fang, Gazzy, Nudge, and the chef himself to go through. Hell, we might need three.)

"We're both throwing you death glares, Ig," I said, doing so. He laughed a little and said, "Ooh, scary. Glare at the blind guy."

I felt myself boiling with rage. And then Fang turned to me, holding a finger over his smirking lips. He got up silently, picking up a can of whipped cream and creeping up behind Iggy, who was busy putting the extra waffles on a plate. There wasn't very many, trust me. Fang smirked again, looking at us, and promptly sprayed whipped cream all over Iggy's head.

Iggy turned around, smiling deviously. I saw his right fist clenched over a bottle of his own ammo. I shook with silent laughter, deciding against warning Fang. This was gonna be good.

"You didn't think you'd get me that easily, did you, Fangles?" said Iggy, smirking. "COUNTERATTACK!" He shot the delicious whiteness all over Fang's hair.

Fang growled in response. "No. One. Touches. My. Hair."

I busted out laughing and grabbed a can, aiming at Iggy's pants. "Hey!" he yelped. Gazzy got a can of his own, and Nudge and Angel ran to the fridge and got some, joining the fray. (Yeah, we have that many cans. What can I say? We use a lot.)

It ended with all of us clutching our sides, covered in whipped cream and cackling madly. (Well, except for Angel and Fang. Fang was just laughing and Angel with her sweet-little-girl-ness was having a giggle attack.) I stood up straight, truing to catch my breath, and surveyed the kitchen. "We are absolutely dead," I whispered.

"You've got that right," said a voice in the doorway.

My mom.

Oh, hell.

"I want this kitchen SPOTLESS in the next forty-five minutes or NO COOKIES! FOR ANYONE!" she yelled. But I could see that she was holding back laughter.

"Not the cookies! I screeched. "All right! Iggy and Gaz, you guys take the sink, the surrounding cupboards, ad the island! Nudge, you and Angel take the fridge and the area around it, and Fang and I will do the stove and the counters! Go!" Iggy snickered at the last pairing and the joke I had unknowingly given him opportunity for. I whirled on him.

"One. More. Sound. Now get to work." He sobered immediately and began scrubbing, and I turned back around, holding my own washcloth.

It's gonna be a long day.

OKAY! *cowers behind iMac* PLEASE DON'T KILL ME FOR WRITING A FILLER! I know it had virtually nothing to do with the plotline but I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE SOME SUGARY FLUFF! AHHHHH! *RUNS AWAY SCREAMING HYSTERICALLY*

Fang: Sorry for Sierra's outburst. She did tell you she was a nervous wreck.

Max: Yeah. But that food fight seemed fun. Wanna go start one?

Fang: Sure, but first, does your breath really 'hitch' when I'm shirtless?

Max: Um… No? *FOLLOWS ME, ALSO SCREAMING HYSTERICALLY*

Fang: Psh… girls. Review. Actually, don't. Don't even read this story. It's embarrassing to me.

Me: I HEARD THAT!

Max: SO DID I! WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT GIRLS?

Fang: Ummm… BYE!

Me: Fang was kidding! REVIEW AND READ ON! AND AGAIN, DO NOT SEND THE EVILE DORA CLONES AFTER ME! I BEG OF THEE! (Haha, I rhymed. that was terrible. I'm embarrassed.)