Hey, guys! So, so, so, so, SOOOO SORRY I haven't updated in weeks! I'm serious, my internet went out so I couldn't go on! I'm SOOOOOOO SOORRRYYY! :( :( :(

Here's some comments:

Jessica Jay Jackson: Thanks! It sort of came to me while writing. :) Glad you like it!

Xx-ThisSucks-xX: I bet he is. ;)

Again, I'm SOOO SORRY I haven't updated! Thanks so much to you all for being so patient with me! Here's the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. James Patterson does.

After the phone call with Fang, I sat back on the couch, groaning inwardly. I had sent the flock to bed an hour ago, forcing Gazzy to take a shower before hitting the hay. He had complained a bit, of course, but I put my foot down, and now he finally looks (and smells) a little better.

Which is good, because we have burritos in the freezer, and I really don't feel like smelling that plus one-week-in-bed b.o.

Sighing, I rubbed my eyes, exhausted. Everyone seemed to be feeling the same way: tired and extremely cranky. Must have been the week. Thank God it's almost over, I hoped. With Angel's funeral, it might ease some tension. Cause things to go back to reletively normal.

Hey, I did say maybe.

I grabbed the remote from the armrest, deciding to watch a little TV before going to bed. Of course, what would be on at midnight? I hadn't really been keeping up with television since, well, since Fang left. Been too busy with the saving the world gig. The only shows I had really watched was the news, thanks to the Doomsday Group, the psychotic cult whose motto was "Kill the Humans, Save the World". We defeated them back in France, the last place we'd gone.

The place where Angel died.

I settled on a movie called Fast and Furious. The cars looked cool, and the sandy haired guy looked pretty hot. Brian, I think his name was. They were in the middle of a race, the one where he bets his pink slip. Oo, the engine just blew. Stinks to be him.

"Enjoy watching guys cuss while illegally racing?"

I jumped, turning to see Dylan behind the couch, looking down at me. "Almost as much as you like watching the girls with sleezy outfits," I smirked.

Dylan watched as a few girls walked across the screen, their shorts more of a joke than actual clothing. "Eh, they're alright," he said, shrugging. "I'd rather see you in that, though." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

I smirked. "In your dreams," I said, turning back to the TV.

Dylan jumped over the back of the couch, landing beside me. "I can deal with that," he said matter-of-factly. "For now."

I rolled my eyes. "What are you doing up, anyway?" I asked, poking his arm. "I thought I put y'all to bed."

He looked offended. "What? A guy can't stay up an hour to talk to his girlfriend?" he asked innocently.

"That's a little creepish, Dylan," I said as I schooched away from him.

"You're right," he smiled. "I was actually getting a drink, but when I saw you were still awake, I decided to bug you instead."

"That's... better," I mumbled. "I guess you aren't that much of a stalker than. You may stay."

"Thank you." His gaze returned to the TV. There was a party going on, and the bald guy -I think he was played by Vinn Diesel- was shouting at this other guy, grabbing his beer and giving it to the hot one. "Woah, what just happened?" Dylan asked, pointing.

"Don't know," I said, trying to remember. "I think-"

Dylan's mouth crashed down on mine, interrupting me. I closed my eyes, shakily wrapping my arms around him and kissing him back with everything I had. I mean everything. There wasn't enough room to fit paper between us. He wrapped his arms around my waist, tilting his head to go deeper. Which totally brought us closer together, if that were possible.

I don't know how long we sat there, kissing and whispering to each other. Finally, we broke apart, our lips swollen, our breathing ragid. "I'm guessing you don't really care what happened, then?" I asked, my voice shaky.

Dylan didn't seem to have heard me. "You're so beautiful," he breathed, mesmorized.

I sighed, remembering France. "You already told me that."

"I'm not finished," he whispered, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, slowly running his fingers through it before letting it go completely. "You're so strong and powerful," he continued, staring into my eyes, making my heart beat faster. "Yet so kind and sweet. You tear down your enemies as if they're nothing, and then watch over your flock like a mother. You're honest when you need to be, and a real jerk when you have to be." I decided to let that go, knowing his intentions were good. And the fact that, well, I kind of was... "You're a breath-taking leader. A wonderful person. And everything I could ever want.

"In short," he continued, "you're amazing, Max." He leaned closer to me until we were a breath apart. "Totally amazing." Then claimed my mouth with his own, softer this time, but just as sweet.

My heart beat painfully inside of my chest as I gently kissed him back, his words circling my brain. Fang was the only other person who had said anything to me that was remotely like this, and that had been on a goodbye letter. Dylan had said these things to me -directly to me- and for some reason, it felt a hundred times better than anything Fang had ever said to me before. It was special.

Slowly, we broke apart, our lips linguring before breaking apart completely. "I called Fang," I spouted out.

Where the h-e-double toothpick did that come from?

Dylan stared at me blankly, probably wondering the same thing. "What?"

"I called Fang," I repeated, then immediately regretted it. Why in the world am I bringing this up? We were just making out, for Pete's sake!

"Uh-huh," he said slowly. "I got that. What about?"

"Angel's funeral," I babbled, despritely wishing I would just shut-up. "I called and asked if he wanted to come tomorrow, to say his goodbyes with the rest of us and to help Gazzy."

Dylan waited. "And?"

"And he said yes," I finished looking into his eyes, waiting to see anger or annoyance flash through them. "He's coming tomorrow."

"Well, good."

I stopped, staring at him blankly. "Good?" I repeated dumbly.

"Yeah, good," he repeated, his face indifferent. When I didn't say anything, he continued. "Fang needs to come. Angel was as much a part of his family then as he is now. Heck, she knew Fang pretty much her whole life. Why not let him come?" He chuckled. "It would be kind of rude to disclude him, anyway. Don't you think?"

I nodded, a smile slowly appearing on my face. We certainly have come a long way, I thought wonderously, remembering back when Dylan had first come, the almost immidiate tension between him and Fang. Now, Dylan was not only accepting that Fang would come, but was happy about it. I guess things change pretty quickly then, huh?

Well, the fact that Fang was pretty cozy with Maya right now probably also eased some of the tension, too.

I rested my head on Dylan's shoulder, seeing that the movie was now almost over. "Wanna go to bed?" I asked, all of a sudden feeling how incredibly tired I was.

Dylan glanced at the clock: 1:36. "I guess," he said, kissing my head and resting his head on mine. "I'm still a little thirsty. Want some water?"

"Sure," I said, turning the TV off and standing, holding out my hand to hoist him up. He grabbed it, and pretty soon we were heading to the kitchen, his arm wrapped around my waist, my hand in his.

It was pretty peaceful, all in all.

At least, until I went to bed.

Then, things started to get weird.

Alright, that's it for now. Again, SORRY! :( I seriously feel bad! Hope you liked the chapter, though.