A/N: Hey! So, unfortunately, I'm kind of skipping Christmas in this story because it doesn't really make sense with the plot, and I can't see Max and Jeb exchanging gifts at this point. Can you? Yeah, didn't think so. Thanks again to all the reviewers! I didn't get a chance to respond, but I'll try to do some later tonight. If I don't put out another chapter before Christmas, Merry Christmas!
Queen Max. That sounds nice, doesn't it? And that's what I basically was when I blackmailed Jeb like never before. My new power, to be blunt, kicked some serious ass. It wasn't perfect, of course. But it still kicked ass.
I continued to avoid Jeb as much as possible; memories of that night were far too fresh to start anew with my father. He just made it easier to forget he existed now that he had a dose of fear himself. It was like all that anger he usually channeled at me was now redirected towards his work. Our most recent fights, while often common and brutal, were easily won by a reminder of what he had done. He was merely a dog with a shock collar clamped around his neck; every time he barked he got stung. I couldn't help but laugh internally when I saw the expression on his face when I picked up the phone and asked innocently, "What was that number again? 9-0-0, was it? 9-1-1?"
Of course, this all evolved over the course of several long months, which I would tell you all about, but for the fear of boring you to I will now recount an abridged version of this new stage in my life.
My previously non-existent social life went uphill as well. Nudge, the little sister I shared with Fang, took a vow to help me become 'more of a girl' and fulfill my true potential as a 'steaming hot mug of vanilla latte.' This was all done without my approval, and Fang was most definitely at fault. Knowing it would annoy me to no end, he told Nudge tales of me longing to be popular and mainstream, which lead to her making me her new project. Ever seen Wicked? Well, then just picture Nudge as Glinda and me as Elphaba. It was easily one of the most irritating experiences of my life, but even I must admit that I slowly learned to enjoy her company.
"So what are we?" she asked me one day as she cleaned out my closet, flinging t-shirt after t-shirt onto a steadily growing pile. (I didn't even know I had that many clothes.)
For a moment, I was terribly afraid that she was gay, and this was her way of taking it to the next level. Not that I was homophobic at all. It was fine is she was lesbian, I just... wasn't, and I didn't want to ruin our friendship with an extremely awkward rejection.
"Uh... What do you mean?" I asked cautiously. She rolled her eyes.
"I mean, are we friends, or are we like, close friends, or are we best friends, or have we become total and complete besties, or are we just sisters at this point?" I exhaled in relief, although I was slightly puzzled how to respond. "Because, like, I was like, serious sisters with Tamara, but then she went and stabbed me in the back like you would not believe... Did I tell you about this?"
"Yes, Nudge," I answered in a vain attempt to prevent a complete regaling on the trials of her life.
"No, I didn't," she continued obliviously. "Yeah, no, we did not talk about Tamara. Because the thing is, she was telling everyone about my crush on Parker Wilkens, which was like, not cool. And I asked her about it after science yesterday like, 'Hey, Tamara, WTF is your problem?' And she was all like, 'Girl, you have lost your mind if you think I was the one blabbing to everyone about your pathetic little obsession,' so I was like, 'Then you better lock me up in some kind of asylum,' and there was like a crowd and all gathering like we were gonna have a catfight, but that is tacky to the max-and not like you Max, like max like the word maximum-so I was like, 'You stay out of my business, Tamara,' and I left because I am the bigger person, you know?" I resisted the temptation to slam my head against a wall. Although, I couldn't imagine myself having thsi conversation with anyone but a sibling that I truly cared about, so I boldly answered,
"Then I guess I'm gonna have to be your sister instead." This cause Nudge to have a mini panic attack, and she flung herself at me, squeezing me uncomfortably closely. I tried to reciprocate, but before I could she was jumping up and down clapping on the other side of the room.
"OMFG Max, we are gonna have so much fun! 'Cause now we can tell each other, like everything, and we should even know like the boring stuff about each other, like, what our favorite colors are, and-"
"You mean this hasn't been the boring stuff?" I exclaimed in mock despair, and she punched my arm lightly.
"Max, don't be mean to me!" she whined, pouting. "I'm your little sister."
And so I started spending more time at her and Fang's house, ignoring his shocked expression whenever I ran upstairs with her. It was only a matter of time, though, before we were forced to speak to each other, at which point I tried my best to be civil, and he didn't try at all.
"Have you missed me so much that you had to come see me, Max?" he goaded me from the kitchen as I sat on the couch. Nudge wasn't home yet, even though I'd made her promise a million times she would be.
"Actually, I'm waiting for your sister," I hissed, struggling to keep my patience.
"What, got a crush on her?" I rolled my eyes in response. "I always wondered why you never succumbed to my charm, but now I think I might know the answer-"
"You're a disgusting, sexist skeezeball who's incredibly self-absorbed?" I shot back. Fang snorted.
"Ha, ha, Maxy." He didn't elaborate on this, instead beginning a long search for baking materials. I held back a guffaw.
"You bake, Fang?" He glared at me.
"Who was just calling who sexist? I'm defying gender stereotypes." I stood up, crossing the room to lean over the counter and watch him.
"I wasn't being sexist," I lied. Yes, I admit it, maybe I was being a little sexist. But just because Fang always acted so macho! Anyways, I had to come up with some new excuse as to why I was surprised he liked to bake, so I said, "I was just thinking about how ridiculous you'd look if I did this."
And with that, I crushed an egg into his hair. Shocked with myself, I cackled loudly as the yoke slid down his ear and the whites trickled into his eyes. He said nothing, though. In fact, he remained silent for so long that I almost was scared that he was allergic to eggs, or something, and that his throat was closing up. Almost. Because just as I was about to call 911, he whipped the liquid out of his eyes furiously, and stared me down.
"You did not. Just do that," he announced solemnly, stepping towards me. I snickered to myself before responding.
"It would appear as though I did." He cracked a small smile before grabbing a measuring cup filled to the brim with flour, and thrusting it at my face. I screamed so girlishly that if you tell anyone, I'll have to deny it.
"This is war," I whispered to him through a grin before coating him with baking powder straight out of the box. He dug his hand into a jar of frosting, reaching over to me in order to smear it on my face. In counterattack, I pelted him with hardened brown sugar, which was met with a flurry of chocolate chips. I batted them away form my face, deftly opening the salt shaker and dusting his clothes with its contents. His face was like some kind of abstract modern painting that you always wonder, How did they think of THAT? about. Now, I guess I knew. After several more rounds of baking goods including Crisco and vanilla were catapulted across the room, I slipped an ice cube down his shirt and, I swear to God, he growled. I giggled nervously at his murderous face.
"Oops," I tittered in a voice much higher than my own. He took a dramatic step forward. I screeched in uncharacteristic apprehension, sprinting away from him and into the living room.
"I was baking a cake for my Mom's birthday!" he bellowed from behind me, but I heard the laughter in his voice.
"Now she can bake you instead!" I yelled back. Suddenly, arms wrapped snugly around my waist, dragging me back into the kitchen. My heart hammered against my chest as I saw his hand pick up a pitcher overflowing with syrup.
"No, no, no," I squealed, struggling against his grasp. I had once had a disastrous mishap with the sugary, sticky fluid while making pancakes, and I was not in the mood to shower for ten hours again. This, of course, had no effect on Fang, and I winced as I felt a cold liquid engulf me. For the first time ever, I heard him burst into laughter as he leaned over my shoulder to see my disgusted face. Discreetly, while he distracted, I took the opportunity to pick up a full stick of butter, smashing it into his open mouth mercilessly. He gagged at the taste, but I held it firm, at which he poured more syrup over me, at which I stuffed more butter into his mouth, and so it became a vicious cycle. I was so caught up in it, I completely forgot Nudge.
"Max! I am soooo sorry I'm late, but my ride cancelled, and you and Fang weren't picking up your phones, so I had to ask Iggy for a ride with Angel and Gazzy and stuff, and now his car's broken down, so we all just walked here since it was closer than their house, and-" We didn't hear them until too late. It may seem unbelievable that we failed to notice that string of words, but keep in mind that this is Nudge we're talking about. She can spit out twice that in a millisecond flat. And so she, Iggy, Angel, and Gazzy walked in on our food fight awkwardly.
I know how it must have looked, really, I do. Fang's arm holding me to him, my hand on his lips. But I cannot bring myself to understand why Nudge would possibly respond the way she did.
"Oh. My. God. You guys were totally getting it on!" she concluded to my chagrin. "And you're gonna be like the new Ross and Rachel, like on Friends, and you're gonna break up every five minutes and then have like, intense make-up sex, and-"
"God, no," Fang and I denied at the same time, now a good ten feet apart.
"She just-," he tried to say, only to be interrupted by a tirade of voices.
"Max, I thought you hated Fang!"
"...And we're all gonna be in the wedding partayyyy..."
"Ooh, Max, Fang, can I be your flower girl?"
"This whole situation is makin' me feel kind of sick... Hey, where's the bathroom around here?"
"Everyone shut. Up," I commanded loudly, distracting everyone from their own personal monologues. "Fang and I did not have sex, or make out, or even kiss. And we never will kiss. I hate him, and he hates me, you got that?"
"Sure, Max," Iggy said smugly. He wasn't unconscious for too long after Fang and I pounced on him.
Despite my declaration that Fang and I would always hate each other, we were pushed closer and closer together as our circle of friends solidified. We were unofficially crowned the leaders of the group. We laughed, we joked, we actually spoke to each other. I began to forget my strong first impression of him as the worst type of human being imaginable, and grew to tolerate, and then maybe trust him just as much, if not more than, the others. So, after a while, I found myself asking him almost the same question that Nudge asked me.
"Hey, Fang, are we friends?" He smirked crookedly, and I was struck again by his good looks.
"Why, you wanna be more?" I rolled my eyes playfully at him, a trace of a smile on my face.
"I was just making sure you knew your boundaries." I was used to our sometimes sharp banter by now, and I even enjoyed it. "Seriously, though," I continued, my smile fading. "Are we friends?" Fang furrowed his brow.
"Yeah, of course we are, Max."
"I thought so."
And somehow, I left that conversation feeling a little happier than I should have been.
A/N: Aww, fluff! You like? Tell me in the reviews! Yeah, this is fast, but truthfully I love Fax too much to keep them enemies much longer. :)